We can't change history but it's now so hip to be square

I've recently come to realise I'd have had a much better adolescence had I been born 16 years later, or had access to a functioning Tardis in the late 1990s.

Heck, I'd even have taken a modified DeLorean at 88mph to escape growing up in the wilderness years without Doctor Who.

These days he's back and he's on prime time telly. He's been cool, dashing, young and oozing sex appeal, even now that he's played by someone in his 50s and wearing shiny, patent boots.

He didn't exist to my generation except for a few of us who happened to have got hold of a bunch of old videos and watched them over and over again to the point where we spotted some of the little mistakes, like the Dalek operator's trainer sticking out the bottom or the time Tom Baker said 'spack off' instead of 'back off' (our pub chat was worse than a depressed Cyberman).

All my Doctors were old, out of fashion and nerdy. And by association, so was I. The bum fluff moustache and centre parting didn't exactly help either but we won't go there. Skinny boys in suits are suddenly turning heads whereas when I was their age all I did was turn stomachs.

For some reason quoting Sylvester McCoy's withering put down of Davros and how he wanted to conquer the galaxy for 'unlimited rice pudding' never raised a smile among my classmates. Well, not until after I'd left the room anyway.

Today it's so very different. Geek, c'est chic. The kids are going to their proms dressed in waist coats, fob watches and frock coats. They're being taken there not in limos but in Tardises on the back of their dad's low loaders.

People buy tickets to see orchestras perform the Doctor Who soundtrack. There are children running around in tweed jackets and bow ties.

And they look so cool. The older fans of the 'classic series' might decry the popular culture references and the romantic storylines but they'll just have to console themselves with the fact that 13ft scarves and floppy hats are never going to be the in thing.

Doctor Who as a cultural phenomenon has well and truly regenerated, which brings us neatly on to tonight's eagerly awaited new series.

It's now so damn hot it's enough to tempt an Oscar winner like Peter Capaldi to the lead role. He's Malcolm freaking Tucker from the Thick Of It for Skaro's sake.

This guy doesn't need Doctor Who. He wants it. He loves it from his childhood and he loves that it's back.

Unfortunately he's about the only one that gets to live that dream and run with the kids today without looking a bit Operation Yew Tree.

The rest of us will just have to marvel at his stamina and think of how far we've all come since those lonely evenings in front of a VHS on the telly, watching Colin Baker dealing with bunch of Sontarans and wondering why no women with fake American accents wanted to 'travel' with us.

I was all right in the end. I found the right person to spend the rest of time and space with, despite the enormity of my DVD collection and a sudden desire to wear tweed as soon as Matt Smith appeared in 2010.

But I'm still jealous of modern teenagers who can openly celebrate a love that once dared not speak its name.

In my day you didn't dare tell anyone you followed the adventures of a mad man in a box. Otherwise you had to run and hide in toilet cubicles until the end of break time. And believe me, they're smaller on the inside.

Keith Harrison is too cool for this week's column