British telly is about to serve up something properly bonkers this Saturday — and that’s meant as the highest compliment. The mad scientists behind Doctor Who have cooked up a crossover with Eurovision that’s either brilliant or completely barmy. Maybe both.
Think about it: Doctor Who meets Eurovision. It’s the sort of telly marriage that sounds like it was dreamed up after one too many drinks at the BBC commissioning party, except it actually works. Rather brilliantly, as it happens.
Russell T Davies, who’s never met a big idea he didn’t want to make bigger, has spent three years orchestrating this collision of British entertainment juggernauts. While the actual Eurovision Song Contest unfolds in Basel with its usual sequined chaos (37 countries vying for that crystal microphone), Doctor Who’s taking the concept several light-years further — literally. Their version features 40 alien worlds competing in what they’re calling the Interstellar Song Contest.
“Every episode of Doctor Who is a great big celebration, sort of noise and color and spectacle,” Davies explains, somehow making it sound completely reasonable that we’re getting space aliens belting out power ballads. The thing is, he’s not wrong. Both shows share that wonderfully British ability to be simultaneously ridiculous and sublime.
The production values are properly mind-bending. Picture 40 different monitors streaming unique content simultaneously — each one telling its own story of alien performers, backstage drama, and interplanetary intrigue. And before anyone asks, no, this wasn’t done with some fancy post-production tricks. They actually shot all of it. In 2025, that’s still impressive, even with all our technological wizardry.
But here’s where it gets properly interesting. The episode (penned by Juno Dawson) isn’t just throwing glitter at the screen and hoping it sticks. They’re billing it as “Eurovision meets Die Hard” — which, let’s be honest, is exactly the sort of pitch that makes television worth watching. “The moment it starts, there’s trouble,” Davies teases, clearly enjoying himself. “Someone’s out to sabotage it. There are villains behind the scenes trying to disrupt the program.”
The meta levels are getting properly twisted, too. Ncuti Gatwa, our current Doctor, is set to announce the UK’s jury scores during the actual Eurovision final. It’s the sort of fourth-wall-breaking moment that British television does particularly well when it’s feeling cheeky.
What’s fascinating about all this is how it reflects the evolution of Saturday night telly. Both shows are, as Davies puts it, part of “the DNA of old-fashioned Saturday night television.” Yet somehow, they’ve managed to stay relevant. When Eurovision pulls in viewing figures that make the Super Bowl look modest, it’s worth paying attention.
Remember Monday’s Eurovision entry “What the Hell Just Happened?” feels weirdly appropriate for the whole situation. It’s as if British television looked at itself in the mirror and decided, “Right then, let’s get properly weird with it.”
And you know what? In an age where streaming platforms are churning out algorithm-friendly content by the skipload, there’s something rather wonderful about this gloriously ambitious mess. It’s the sort of television that reminds us why we fell in love with the medium in the first place — because sometimes, just sometimes, it dares to be magnificently, unapologetically bonkers.
Davies will be watching both shows from home — can’t stand people talking over it, apparently. Fair enough. Some television moments deserve your full attention, even (or especially) when they involve singing aliens and time-traveling doctors.
In the end, this cosmic collision of Doctor Who and Eurovision might just be the most British thing to happen to television in 2025. And that’s saying something.
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