This new Doctor makes my blood boil

What on Gallifrey was Steven Moffat thinking? Somewhere a distant cloister bell is ringing, warning of a cataclysm not felt since Tom Baker fell off a radio telescope and turned into Peter Davison.

There are so many reasons to hate Matt Smith, who will take over from David Tennant at the end of the year. And like the spiteful, angry geek I am I shall list them.

The first is that haircut. When the legendary Tom Baker played the Doctor in the 1970s he had a mad hairstyle, an absurd number of curls, but it looked like the wild do of a true eccentric. Smith's looks like a whole team of stylists would need a room to themselves somewhere in the TARDIS.

Next is his odd face. True, the Doctor has always had an odd look about him. Sometimes he has been handsome in a quirky way and Smith is, admittedly, those things. But he almost looks like someone has taken Gordon Ramsay, bleached his skin and held a steam iron to all his wrinkles before flattening him out with a rolling pin covered in flour.

Thirdly he has landed the dream job of pretty much every sci-fi nerd under the age of 50 at a time when scores of people are losing their employment in the face of inevitable recession.

Finally, and most importantly, he is a year younger than me. How dare he? It is completely unfair to do this to me. I can't watch my favourite TV program in the same way anymore. The lead characters in my favourite shows have always been older than me, giving me some childish comfort that I still have all that saving the universe ahead of me. I came to terms years ago with being older than the cast of Hollyoaks, mainly because I can't stand the sight of Hollyoaks and threaten to throw a shoe through the TV screen if the remote is not immediately found whenever it's on.

I can live with the knowledge that some of my favourite bands are fronted by people who were still in school last week – The Enemy, The Hoosiers and so on. But The Doctor? That's just tragic. When the announcement was made on Saturday I felt all 904 years of the Doctor's life come flowing through me, burning me up inside and destroying every single cell the same as when Christopher Eccleston had to absorb the time vortex out of Billie Piper and was forced to regenerate.

It would be easy to point accusing fingers at new chief writer Steven Moffat, slating him for toeing the line and casting someone who will be a safe bet for keeping young fans and swooning girls watching and buying the merchandise rather than taking the series in a bold new direction that would keep it fresh for years to come.

Grudgingly though I have to accept Smith's appointment. He was brilliant in Ruby In The Smoke and Party Animals. He is not yet a household name which means he will hopefully stay a few years, something we need as we are now on the 11th of only 13 Doctors.

Now I have been forced to stare into the Eye of Harmony and realise that I am evidently too old to save the universe and I shall never play the Doc. I know in my heart of hearts (and no I'm not claiming to have two) that the Beeb were never going to come calling, but at least there was the fantasy.