Behind the Sofa - The Collaborative Doctor Who Blog

I'm rather fond of bumble-bees...

In a final rush to get this done before tonight’s probable spate of reviews here goes,

The Robots of Death

I absolutely love this era. For me, it’s Doctor Who at its best: a healthy amount of violence, a couple of jokes and loads of fun. Robots of Death probably isn’t the best example (step up Talons) but it is proof that even the stories not remembered as liquid gold classics can stand up to scrutiny.

"It’s unpretentious and bloody entertaining"

There is a case for designing a season in the old style of having each adventure primarily concerned with telling a story because then you don’t get rubbish filler episodes like Idiot’s Lantern or Fear Her. The downside is you lose the irresistible, sweeping saga which has become main-stream, thanks in no small part to the great Joss Whedon. That doesn't necessarily make them “good bad” pieces of writing – a topic which came up in Stu's recent thread, just a differnt type of good. It’s unpretentious and only interested in being bloody entertaining.

First of all, the main characters are adorable – the contrast between them and that slightly prickly relationship they have could probably carry a 4-parter all in itself. Baker and Jameson are on top form, the latter managing to get the balance between a convincing savage and a hackneyed device almost perfect. In my rather incoherent notes it says, “Leela could charm the socks off a Clanger” and that the Doctor “goes a bit Shining”.

"Poul’s quiff was definitely from the David Tennant school of hair-dressing"

Of the rest of the mining crew, only Zilda left a large impression, mainly because of the dreadful scene where she has to cry. The costumes are far more memorable than the characters in most cases: Toos had a skwonk Statue of Liberty thing on her head and Poul’s quiff was definitely from the David Tennant school of hair-dressing.

Aside from costume, the design is excellent. The robots are dead creepy (especially because of their glittery eye-shadow) and the sets are, considering the studio’s size, very impressive. I love the model shots, even if they do re-use them. The interior ones in particular help you get an impression of the space and are used to neatly book-end the story.

"unashamed fun that puts a smile on your face"

The script, while it has its draw-backs (the random re-call of the murder-bots only to issue the same instructions is very weak) is fantastic; it packs enough pace, wit and zeal into the 100 minutes or so to make them fly by. Some of the dialogue is bordering on the poetic; I like the description of the Laseron Probe “it can punch a fist-sized hole in 6’’ armour plate or take the crystals from a snowflake one by one.” The prop in question is clearly just a plastic tube but those words are so evocative it’s barely an effort to take it seriously. I also liked the way real science is used to solve problems. Voice responsive robots? Just change their evil genius’ voice with helium! It’s simple and practical.

Hopefully, over the coming weeks we’ll see some Doctor Who like this – exciting, sharp and fun. That’s been missing lately and there’s little more satisfying than a scary thriller with a hyperactive-5-year-old mentality. I really do hope season 3 will turn out like that: unashamed fun that puts a smile on your face.

The best and bravest of all foes

Worst kind of under graduate humour...parasites...nasty filth...if they don’t like the show, then they can just fuck off...

The Curse of Fatal Death

I’ve had to postpone my contribution to Stripped Down 5 partly due to work but also because, over the past month or so, I’ve begun watching Battlestar Galactica (I’ve just finished Season 2) and wow. It took half of the other bloggers and Charlie Brooker to persuade me but now I’m hooked. Anyhow, onto the matter at hand (at least it was, 2 weeks ago).

I can’t remember watching this on transmission, but Youtube to the rescue! Actually, if you don’t mind them being cut into 10 minute chunks, it’s a great resource for old Who episodes not yet out on DVD. I’ve even found Timelash.

"It could have looked like a bunch of post-modern twonks jeering at an extinct TV show"

Unlike so much of “Comic” Relief, it’s really funny. Steven Moffat knows his audience down to a tee; I picked up on dozens of references and in-jokes, probably only getting a third of them but the obvious satire is where this skit is truly successful. It could have looked like a bunch of post-modern twonks jeering at an extinct TV show but instead you get a sense that the jibes, while searing, are affectionate; that while the writer knows how much dodgy plotting was covered by technobabble, he loves it nonetheless. Some of the jokes are a little crude (*sigh* fart gags) but at least they aren’t spread over an entire 90 minutes.

"Richard E. Grant gives a convincing impression of someone who could carry the character for an entire story"

On the whole, the cast is wonderful (Atkinson in particular) but I do wish they could have got someone other than Jim Broadbent, or at least given him something interesting to say. Richard E. Grant gives a convincing impression of someone who could carry the character for an entire story (ha!) and Hugh Grant is just his lovely self. Joanna Lumley is suitably bizarre to pull her part off and I found the ending rather satisfying. There’s always been something going on between those two and where better to clear the air than a Red Nose Day sketch? Let’s just hope RTD doesn’t have plans of his own like this...

Incy wincy spider

I will freely admit to coming to this special with every intention of enjoying it and succeeding in my aim. In many ways I think it proves the argument for showing Doctor Who in the winter – it’s much easier to create a spooky atmosphere in the dark and cold and people are more forgiving too.

The Runaway Bride has its problems – not least its title. As usual there are some plot points which fail to come together (such as the force-feeding of Lance with Huon-particle mineral water) which could have been explained  with a few lines of dialogue. So much of the plot hangs on shaky pseudo-science anyway, it wouldn’t have jarred at all to say, for instance, that the Huon particles in Lance were simply used to draw Donna back to the nest. In fact, it probably was said, it was just lost under Murray Gold’s score and Sarah Parish’s mannerisms.

And thus, handily, we come to the biggest turkey on the plate – the Racnoss. Such an opportunity! What could be scarier than a massive spider? Unfortunately not nearly enough is made of that fantastic prosthetic. So many shots are of the head in close-up, losing the scale and highlighting the human features. Why not make her scuttle about a bit, chewing the scenery on all sides? Admittedly Sarah Parish does some great stuff with all the head-tilts and jerky movements and I don’t think an ancient, omnivorous scourge of life on all planets should be subtle and underplayed. She comes across as little more sophisticated than a talking spider and it fits. Despite what Julie Gardner  may say on the commentary, we finally have a proper, evil villain who gets killed and that’s fine. No sympathy, no “I’m so sorry,” just incy-wincy killer spiders from the Dark Ages of the universe getting washed down the drain. Fantastic.

At last we’re seeing the Doctor we were promised – ruthless and scary and not constantly hopping about saying “avoid the void!” It’s a double-whammy of continuity glee as we get transcendental pockets and, at last, GALLIFREY. It actually brings in a lots of elements from the past: there was some City of Death, the secret at the centre of the Earth made me wonder about Inferno and the intelligent spiders, regrettably, recalled Planet of the Spiders. Finally, too, the whole “pilot fish” problem is sorted out. It makes much more sense for the robotic santas to be remote-controlled mercenaries – whose master I imagine we may meet next year (if a third special is commissioned). The big gong though has to go to the flying TARDIS sequence. Forget the physics, (the simplest way is just to think, “the Doctor’s smarter than me” as Salem suggested on the Canada Redux thread) it looks brilliant. The CGI is some of the best we’ve seen yet and when it spins up into the sky it’s a real punch-the-air moment. Don’t get me started on the final de-materialization though, what the hell was that supposed to be? In fact, my only quibble with the sequence is that I really didn’t like the children cheering them along, which other people loved. It just seemed too cheesy.

My biggest worry was always Catherine Tate – her programme is the sort of sub-Little Britain schlock which pollutes British comedy at the moment. It’s all endlessly repeated catch-phrases and gross-out “humour”. What happened to the Pythons, hmm? Intelligent, witty and 100 times funnier than a man dressed as a WI member being sick on a vicar. Of course, I needn’t have worried because the comedienne wasn’t writing and, as a character, Donna really grew on me over the course of the episode. She’s a brash selfish type but whose heart didn’t bleed when Lance said he’d prefer being the Empress’ escort than spending a night with Donna? Ouch! That’s just mean. She also fulfilled the wishes of many a blogger and kept the Doctor in check – delivering a quick slap when he started getting smug and flippant.

Being an RTD script, (oh here I go again, RTD-bashing) there’s a lot of excellent dialogue, my particular favourite being “walking in the dust”. I actually think he constructed a very good story – well-paced, exciting, entertaining and I watched with a cheesy grin – what more can you ask for? And before you reply, yes, I know: tighter script editing, a more dynamic villain and a remote controlled K9.

One year and counting

It has, roughly speaking, been a year since I joined this site. It was in between the Pudsey Cutaway and my birthday – I can’t name the exact date as I have long since removed my first “review” out of embarrassment. I haven’t contributed a massive amount but it’s been a pleasure reading what others have to say and taking part in the debate. I’ve learnt a lot in the past 12 months – I am not a wonderful writer but the process and discipline of producing a critical essay once a week, and then having it compared to those of accomplished writers, has really helped me.

Of course, there’s also the sheer entertainment value of some of the things written and the bizarre paths some threads lead down. There’s always been something informative, thought-provoking or hilarious to read. So, thank you and here’s to more of the same quality from Behind the Sofa, obsessive and alarming as we may be.

Suzie Gold

Wildly behind time and mostly written on a train, my very late review of Everything Changes:

RTD is an expert in audience manipulation. He showed his prowess in the regeneration scene last year (impossibly poignant) and again this July with Rose’s departure. The only trouble is, his cheap tricks don’t stand the test of time whereas subtlety does. I’m not trying to debate whether programming should be for posterity but the validity of such a shock ending. It plays with expectations – Suzie had been presented as a regular both on and off screen – and I was constantly wondering whether this would turn out to be the final test of Gwen’s suitability. Even Suzie’s slightly fumbled search for her gun looked staged. When finally she decorates Cardiff with her brains it is shocking. It would have been better had we known the character but the aim was clearly to hook the audience, and that it did. Personally I loved it the first time I saw it, but after more consideration I saw it was...well, cheap. Not a brilliant way to kick-start an “adult” drama.

The episode bears a strong resemblance to Rose, but thankfully there is little attempt at a full-blown story, just a small occurrence drawing audience identification figure #1 in. Thanks to this, the extra five minutes and the short titles there’s far more room to play with. In the future, however, this extra room could weigh heavy on the hands of flimsier plots which would have been lost in a 45 minute slot, never mind 50.

The scattering of small references is fun, especially the hand – notice the swell in music as it hoves into view – but the real moments are in the dialogue. Captain Jack has been turned into some stand-up comedian it seems for he’s forever spouting witticisms. Still his performance does seem, as others have noted, a lot more sedated. In many ways older and wearier; he doesn’t seem happy about his immortality. It rather sucks any possible tension out of future episodes but Gwen is the only one to know so perhaps there could still be an interesting dynamic seeing what risks his colleagues will let him take.

The rest of the team haven’t really been explored in any detail but they’re clearly no Firefly troupe. But then, who is? I’ve become a convert to the doomed programme very recently and I’m not sure anything could compare. In all the character profiles the Jack Pack (©Jon Clifford) were mostly described as genius bastards and, while there was plenty of the latter on display not much of that genius has shone through. There’s been a lot of heated debate about the now infamous date-rape scene but I think the real point is Owen isn’t presented as a hero nor is his behaviour lauded. We don’t get to see much of Tosh but she seems the nicest of the group and certainly took home the best toy. Suzie does get a scrap of development - the little scene with her bringing a fly back to life was beautifully done. Of Ianto...very little has been revealed and he does seem to just look good in a suit.

Gwen’s ordinary life is very well done – her boyfriend is just the kind of chap who’ll end up being killed off a few episodes in and his theories about the alien incursions are perfectly typical. Psychotropic drugs in the water indeed.

The budget has been well spent: the Hub is a fantastic set and everything in it too. Very bat cave. I recognize those rolling doors from Attack of the Graske, but then I’m sure the same style has appeared in many places. The props are all stainless steel and sexy. Those aliens sure are stylish – just look at the pheromone bottle. Cardiff looks amazing too and the only blot of the landscape is Gwen. PC uniforms are not known for their flattering shape and I’ll be glad to see the back of that vest.

Overall, I think it would have been a perfectly inoffensive episode were it not for the shock ending which insulted a lot of people. I think it’s a difference in expectations and, essentially, an age difference. When Torchwood was marketed as “adult” drama I expected, well, adult drama but what they really meant was “teenage” drama. It has all the thrills and coy little immature flirtations with sex and swearing they could want and the kudos of being on at ten o’clock, too. This generation expect the whole deal with the publicity machine as part of the deal and RTD is simply manipulating that tool. I can just slip in that age barrier so I imagine I can enjoy Torchwood a lot more than some but can’t Doctor Who cater for the same group? When it was aimed at the “intelligent 14 year old” some of the best serials in its history were created and there was no need for “f-this, f-that”. If Torchwood had been aimed at the people who are getting a raw deal, the actual adults, then perhaps we wouldn’t have needed the gratuitous Day One either and there would have been the intelligent 14 year olds enjoying it too as something challenging and more exciting than the sort of cheap thrills you can get on any number of programmes.

Private Eye

I’ve tried, with limited success, to review City of Death before and I couldn’t do it again. It’s clear to anyone sane who watches it that it’s a near perfect union of plot, character, dialogue, performance, design and location. The script is almost too witty for its own good, (but not quite) the leads are almost so charming they’re smug, (but not quite) and plot is brief and padded, (but what padding it is).

Instead, I’d rather highlight a DVD feature similar to one which came with The Green Death – taking the piss out of classics. I love the DVD from the summation to the lovely matte disc (it's a thing for unwrapping - same reason why I like subscribing to magazines) and in the last SSS I commented briefly on the extras but, in the absence of anything original to add to the episode, I think I’m justified in reviewing a featurette. Hey, if you can podcast them...

He has no Parisian villa (no Parisian wife, either)

Eye on Blatchford purports to be covering the strife of an outsider struggling to integrate into rural England – Sardoth the Second to Last Jagaroth. He has no Parisian villa (no Parisian wife, either), no bricked-up Mona Lisas or even a decent Julian Glover mask. The ensuing “documentary” ticks all the right boxes: Brasseye-ish titles, EU mocking, finding work for some extras happy to charge about fields and they even have their own comedy-accented expert, played by nonetheless than Gabrielle Woolf.

I wonder if it would be such an outrageous idea to include more fan-contributed material on DVDs. Some of the stories themselves could have been fan-vids, but more on that tomorrow. Very often the commentaries merely repeat what the documentaries used to bulk up the release will tell you in shorter time. There’s no need for a person to be attached to a production for them to have something entertaining to say (and anyway, it’s probably safe to say they played Agador at some point), and I’m sure out there would be some fans with an acidic sense of humour and a microphone... Maybe it’s a bit unlikely but still, there’s a terrible epidemic of commentators announcing how much they love everything – particularly in the new series – when it’s clearly bollocks. A whole commentary may be too long, but I can’t help but wonder what the results of letting Mr Querry loose with a camera and a rough spec would be.

what, I wonder, is a “duck procurer”

Back to my original point - which appears to be wandering the plains at the moment – what, I wonder, is a “duck procurer” and what were they doing on a production which, to all appearances, is devoid of duck-life? Answers on the back of a postcard.

PS - if anyone is interested and remembers a rather rabid piece of bile I wrote on Love & Monsters, they may be relieved to know it's now been edited to conform with EU standards and the law of reason.

Freedom from Tedium

The funny thing about this is how much more tedious these epics feel when viewed spaced out, as opposed to my usual method of watching them omnibus stylee usually with a bottle of something strong to dull the pain.

Episodes 5 & 6

Whoop-de-fucking-doo. A mad computer. That staple of poor sci-fi: what would you do if your Dell started humming Satie and plotting with your microwave? BOSS is an improvement on the standard fare, not speaking in a dreary monotone and being able to hold a decent conversation. It’s just a pity all his complex circuitry is undermined by a simple paradox that wouldn’t flummox a Texas calculator. The answer is clearly – “you’re talking unadulterated dingoes’ kidneys you pompous twat”.

Often described as UNIT’s last grasp of greatness, it is certainly noticeable where Lethbridge-Stewart finally loses his tenuous grip on credibility. He manages to be hypnotised by accident with such a gormless expression on his face it only serves to highlight the affronted-llama pose a few seconds before. Where all indignation sensors should be focused on the pretty blue plot device, you can’t help but cringe at this tubby soldier.

Thank Dicks it’s the final episode.

While the Doctor tries to exert a brain-cell to find a cure, I can only worry about that pupated maggot. What has it turned into? It sounds as if the production team has set themselves quite a task, and if you can’t realize an idea well and it isn’t vital then don’t bother. Nobody would have felt cheated if no mention had been made of the monstrosity, just another chapter to the big book of early 70s CSO catastrophes would have been spared of us.

When the BOSS dies, it makes the episode make some kind of sense. With the zany colour scheme and the sine waves across the screen, it looks very 70s, but the best the 70s had to offer. Unsurprisingly, 70s telly does semi-hallucinogenic very well indeed. While not screaming out for sympathy, it is a poignant moment when Stevens condemns himself, and his friend, to death, crying just a little bit.

I do love this era. Despite the long drawn out plots, the awful CSO, the pompous Doctor, the poor characterization, the tedious Earthbound constraints and everything else that can be thrown at it. It’s still fun and cheesy; it just takes a little patience which gets rewarded with occasional moments of beauty,

Thanks to amazing Welsh healing powers, Jones is back on his feet in no time and they can start production on “Jo and Jones on their Quest for the Fantastic Fungus”. What a great spin-off that would have been. It could have featured all the beloved Nut-Hutch crew with guest appearances by different Amazonian tribes. We might eventually get to find out what it was the Metabilan sapphire cursed.

The final scene is rightfully remembered as one of the triumphs of Doctor Who. It’s subtle, under-played, layered and heart-rending. The absolute apposite of today’s style in three of those respects. It deals perfectly with the complex relationships, (Jones treating the Doctor like the father of the bride, Yates’ heartbreak) and it’s a credit to Jon Pertwee that he packs such a lot of emotion into such little dialogue. The final image is perfect – a glint of light but an otherwise solitary figure fading away with a subdued buzz. If you don't mind, I've got something in my eye...

Hugo BOSS

Let’s quickly review what happens this episode - [SFX: chirruping of cicadas and the occasional tumble weed.]

Episode 4

In a less than straight laced resolution to last week’s cliffhanger, what’s-his-puss sneaks in on Jo and our maggot decides he much prefers the dark, macho type and he’ll have a piece of that. It buggers off in shame when its unwanted advances knock what’s-his-puss off. At least this proves the maggot virus doesn’t just affect welsh miners.

our maggot decides he much prefers the dark, macho type and he’ll have a piece of that

UNIT relish the opportunity to get nasty with some high explosives. They’re always up for a little wholesale destruction and nothing so namby-pamby as logic will stand in their way. Just give them a shit load of TNT and they’re off.

Stevens should be awarded some kind of medal for his superlative effort in withstanding a whole half-hour of quality scientific advisor scowling. Eventually he gives in and calls in his counter-weapon – the formidable Mike Yates.

Now, there been some considerable Richard Franklin bashing recently and I’d like to stand up and defend Yates as he’s always been my favourite of the UNIT family and in their final year he gets very interesting. I think he was a sort of proto-Harry, not so developed but still a start. He’s great in the double-speak scene (accompanied by Yate’s Guard, whoever that is) and he manages not to laugh at Pertwee’s drag act, which must earn him a BAFTA at least.

The Brig’s slide into lunacy worsens

When they do eventually blow the mine to fuck, it’s a very good model shot, instantly overshadowed by an utterly 3^rd Doctor moment denouncing sin from the pulpit like a luxuriantly eyebrowed Scots elder to quote someone or other.

The Brig’s slide into lunacy worsens as he describes the maggots as “creepy crawlies” and utters the single most inaccurate prophecy since the old fluttering paper, “Peace in our Time” gag. A flutist, (or the electronic equivalent of) dies in gasps of agony at the tedious inevitability of the outcome with a “tra-la-la” and nary a “wa-wa-waa” in sight.

Some poor dear gets the shock of her life as she enters what was, only a week ago, a top security room only to find the crazy maggots have overflowed their breeding ground and managed to climb the pipe, clinging to the sides and squishing on top of each other in the hope of finding another choice morsel like that chauffer, what’s-his-puss. On the other side of the moor, we get yet more UNIT troops so thick they don’t notice the massive maggots kissing their boots.

As usual they try to shoot the bastards but, as they should have learnt by now, it would be too easy to have an attack so easily repelled. Don’t they know this is lazy sci-fi and they’re invincible to all conventional weaponry? It’s no wonder the Brig and that other UNIT troop can’t even hit a single maggot – it’s so ingrained in their training to shoot between the eyes, they aim at head height despite the maggot being on the floor.

Poor Elgin’s copped it and we have yet another break-in where nothing is achieved save the scarring of a generation. I bet Jon Pertwee waited for years to be allowed to do a drag act on Doctor Who. It seems BOSS is fuelled solely by milk judging by the amount’s delivered. If the sight of Pertwee in a bushy false moustache doesn’t induce nausea, the dress will. I think I feel that coma coming on again...

That bloody fool Jones tries to use a microscope without any of the lenses in position for the whole time. He’s a charlatan. He’s not discovered a cure, he’s just been starring into darkness. Before he can share this tremendous news, he realizes Jo was driven away by his excessively Docteresque pomposity and discourtesy.

Ahh, the predictive power of Dicks and Sloman – in the future, all computers will be so large and so expensive only the most powerful governments will able to afford them. And these super-computers will be imbued with a tremendous power over mankind: they will have fruity voices. BOSS, to be fair, is more interesting than your average megalomaniac calculator (because, as he says, he’s irrational) with more of a humanity to him – a passion for Wagner, little idiosyncrasies, a playful relationship with his minion and, of course, a plummy voice.

If nothing else, this story has imbued me with a terrible fear of the cash registers you get called BOSSes. Tune in next week to see if it’ll screw up your order!

Close your eyes

Yes, I’m a wee bit behind schedule but the truly atrocious CSO sent me into a shock-induced coma. Four episodes and just two days... can I make it?

Episode 3

Blown up condoms, hippie love-in communes, fire-side trysts, the amazon, “going down”... this is charged! Of course, you’d never find such innuendo laden children’s entertainment nowadays. Just wouldn't happen.

Sweet tap dancing, sugar coated Jesus just look at the punting scene. Where to begin? The backdrop, perchance: why couldn’t they have used the far superior shots from earlier or at least made the maggots appear a little bigger. Then there’s the troublesome yellow screens... heads and limbs vanish at random and the cart looks like it’s floating in midair, supported only by Pertwee’s, err... pole. See? There it is again. If that wasn’t enough, they show the thing twice.

Always the Gentleman, our Doc shoves Jo into the path of danger first, taking an egg to make a socking great omelette for tea. He even tries it on in the pipe. Poor Jo. Is there anyone in this story who hasn’t had a good feel so far?

I’d draw the line at the Brig, who’s now changed into a smart navy blazer. I suppose he’s a bit like Barbie: you have the khaki outfit, the sheep-skin coat, the preppy boy ensemble and there’s even accessories. There’s his sporty roadster and that all-purpose nuclear-resistant jeep. Just like the shoes, though, you always end up losing the moustache.

In that phone call you can tell the Minister for Ecology is sick to the back teeth of that bloody UNIT chap and his supposed “alien invasions”. He all but tells him where to stick his maggots but Stevens aids the healing process with a stiff Scotch in the first of many debauched, drunken scenes.

Fell continues being stilted and s-p-e-a-k-i-n-g b-r-o-k-e-n-l-y, while Elgin continues to be oddly dishy in a “I didn’t go to Specsavers,” half grown moustache kinda way. The bizarre security system at Global Chemicals demands all pipes be fitted with cameras on the off chance some hapless miner may try to climb them. Thankfully that saves Jo and the Doctor’s sorry arses and screws with Fell’s brain so much he craves increased You and Yours input. Five hours of John Waite and Liz Barclay concentrated into one single dose would cause severe haemorrhaging in anyone but he’s already that side of deranged so one more man from Worcestershire complaining about the number of black fruit pastilles you get per tube tips him over. It’s a good thing too because those side-burns just looked out of place. He makes a good splat in what is, after all, quite a surprising event for a children’s programme.

It’s nothing to the horror of Jo’s dress though: the colour of parma violets and shapes like a six year old bride’s maid’s frock with an extra long skirt it makes her look about seven months pregnant. The Doctor – bloody typical – ruins the evening’s mellowness (Brig smoking a joint, everyone tucking into some “special” mushrooms) with news of Bert’s death. Poor bugger collapsed under the weight of his own stereotype.

Bert’s soon forgotten as Jo and the Professor enjoy a moment together by the fireside, completely ruined by a jealous Doctor. Staying up late reading, ha! That’s a pretty euphemism.

This week’s cliff-hanger involves the latest CSO disaster, the maggot hatched from the Doctor’s egg which everyone forgot about in the swing of the party. An inflatable condom sidles up to Josephine Grant and rears up. Nice.

Green is the Colour

The Green Death Part 2

Some rarely seen super-human qualities save Bert, but not before he’s had a good grope off Jo. G’an ya son! Of course, the dangerous levels of CSO in the atmosphere of the pit mean she won’t remember a thing. Ah, the wonders of modern technology.

I can only presume Dave’s been vid-fied judging by the glisten on him. Maybe he’s just seen a preview of the next episode. At least he can still see. Jo & Bert don’t even notice Dai when they’re practically tripping over him, glowing bright bloody green nonetheless.

Back upstairs, the search is on for some cutting equipment but, would you believe it, no one has any. Well... Global Chemicals does but they’re clearly evil and the meanies won’t hand it over. The mysterious “boss” appears but he hasn’t a hope of taking over the world – a voice that fruity and your only hope is as an over-theatrical bit-part player or a telephone operator. The Brig’s too polite to press the matter but he gets a good rollicking from his scientific advisor and anyone else with a bit of sense and a back-bone. For some reason, the Nuthutch borrowed it a few weeks back but we’re never told why. What could a hippie commune want with oxyacetylene cutters? Perhaps they’d had too much pot and thought they’d have a little game with the neighbours. Who can scorch the most Welshmen to the tune of Set the Controls to the Heart of the Sun.

Before you can say “disastrous 2005 Tory election campaign” the Doc and our Jones have hatched a daring plan which rather depends on Global Chemicals’ security completely over-reacting to a minor – I say minor, I mean weedy – protest. Thankfully, these mercenary chaps are terribly obliging types and Pertwee manages to reach a convenient open space to go Venusian on their ass. A few minutes later, he’s got his hair back, but he’s also locked up, curse his luck.

Ah, another appearance of “efficiency” – could that be a plot point in the making, Dicks? The smoothie-smooth Stevens gets let off the hook and Pertwee goes back empty handed. Never fear, some’s been found and they even got Jesse from the Fast Show to operate it. So what was the point of the last twenty minutes, huh? It’s even a bit suspect how they procured the equipment: cutting up an old bugger were you Brig?

Why is it everyone feels the urge to touch the slime? Would you? After finding your colleague dead and glowing strangely green too. He gets what he deserves, the prat.

Towards end it gets v e r y tedious with only endless faffing about in the mine and standard protocol pomposity to occupy our retinas. It’s a blessed relief when we get a shot of the maggots in all their oozing, green, slimy glory.

The maggots are another triumph of this production: they look maggoty, they creep the beejeebers out of me and the rats’ teeth are inspired. I don’t have a clue why they’d have rodent teeth or make hissing noises but then they’re gross and threatening. Good thing too because we need a cliffhanger soon or else the viewing public may lose the will to continue.

The Bumper Book of Tachyon TV Made Up Facts has this to say about The Green Death Part 2: John Dearth’s voice has been found to contain Vitamin C and cure scurvy.