"...and then shall the dark evil rule eternally"
I sat down on Tuesday to review as I normally do - watch one episode a day and then review it at the weekend once I'd had time to process it. But something happened. I sat down to watch the first episode, and two hours later got up and wanted to watch it all again. And that never happens with classic series stories. Ever.
So what I did was watch it all again today, with a clipboard, pen and paper and jotted down notes as I went along. The end result is less along the lines of what I would normally write, but it should feel somewhat familiar to the rest of you. Good thing? I'd like to think so. Let's find out, shall we?
Bear in mind that I couldn't afford the DVD, so these are the episodes as transmitted. I'm sure they'll be even better in the collected version, and I'll find out for myself when I get the money, but for the moment I'll have to take it on faith. Not that it mattered, I fully enjoyed what I had anyway. Also I apolgise for any spelling errors that you may spot, but I was rather rushing to get this done before Torchwood started and didn't really have time to spellcheck the entire document. Still, who cares about the occasional typo when you've got moderatly funny humour abound, eh?
Part I
The story starts well enough - I enjoyed the intro, which at the very least tried something different, rather then just being an adaption of what had gone before for a new Doctor. And I thought the music was funky. I seem to remember it from my childhood, which is always good. Anyway! The story starts proper with a low budget invasion of Normandy, only for that theory to be blown away as we're show the long awaited return of the Loch-Ness Monster! Huzzah! And then the Russians land and something's clearly gone wrong. Which always happens in these things.
The TARDIS appears and Ace, who appears to have Chewing Gum stuck in her hair, emerges in full period dress. And her 'leather' coat. Hmm. That said, she does have a fair point about just strolling into a top-secret military base. Where are all the boys in brass and so forth? ...oh, there they are. Surrounded by big... okay, tough... alright, weedish soldiers weilding big powerful guns, the Doctor launches straight into a bluff that whizzes right past their heads and leaves them reeling. Then he goes and forges his own authorisation papers. The felonies are bulding up - Breaking and Entering, Forgery, Impersonating a senior member of staff...
Meanwhile the Russians, who have conviniently decided to speak in English (and good thing too, I'm watching this story, not reading it) decide to set up camp on the beach, where they'll get sand in their tent and start grumbling about how it's too windy to build decent sandcastles. Still, those are their orders and they're going to obey them, stupid as they may be. And while one of the guards is on patrol, he finds something. Is it a winning lottery ticket? Plane tickets to Florida? A classic issue of Playboy? No, it's just their orders. Fun. Suddenly someone places a green filter over the lens, plays some menacing music and the poor fellow screams (which, amazingly, nobody hears) and gets all the blood drained from him. I would LOVE to know how they drain the blood from someone is such a short space of time, but I guess that's a much a mystery as why Chantelle hasn't been shot yet. Irritating bitch.
I'd like to take a few seconds here to point out a glaring error that was brought to my attention thanks to my mother being curator of a museum doing an exhibition on World War 2
last year. This is for you, Mum! When Ace meets the two future victims-to-be, she says they should meet at Maiden's Point, which is handily signposted. But during the war, they took down all signposts in case German troops landed in the country - that way the soldiers wouldn't know where they were or which way to go. So that's a bit of an 'Oops' mistake right there.
Back on track, we're introduced to the Commander of the base, or Herr Obermann, as he prefers to be known. And we're also introduced to the Reverand something-or-other, who goes on about a curse. Evil was 'ere BC 2000, or somesuch. Another query, if I may - shouldn't the TARDIS be translating the runes? Silly me, of course not - that'd ruin the plot. Anyway, the man the Doctor's apparently here to see, Judson, is bossed about by his carer who I've no doubt will end up dead before the day is done, and I come up with a few smutty inuendos.
The two future corpses Ace met go for a swim - they'll be sucked down under in no time (Fwar) AND a Russian prays that, once they're out of the water, he won't have to fire at them with his big gun. Well, you wouldn't want to be shooting blanks at two fairly pretty young ladies now, would you? (Clean up on Aisle 4!)
Moving on. Ace meets one of the ladies who listens for German communications and finds out she has a baby called Audrey - a name she detests. Can't blame her there, I've never liked the name. But apparently it was the name of her mother. Hmm. Taking shelter, her and the Doctor take a look at the cliffs were Ace hung out with the two cadavers-in-waiting, and the pair find a dead Russian. And a lot of live ones. Pointing guns at them. A cliffhanger at a cliff? genius!
Part Second
The Russians decide not to shoot the Doctor since the episode is going out pre-watershed. Meanwhile, the Commander and Judsen have translated the runes and are reading them out loud, for some god only knows reason. This will lead to very bad things, of that you can be sure.
Moving on a bit, because there's a few minutes that I can't make fun of, the Reverand makes a lovely speach to a completely empty church while the Doctor and Ace explore the runes further and discover that some new one have appeared. Only they aren't new. Which is a bit of a confuser, really. Finding a secret chamber leads them to the Commander, who has been stockpiling green slime. Surely we've already reviewed a story about Green Slime? No? Oh well. He's got lots of it. Lots and lots and lots of it. An when he demonstrates that only a few drops can kill a room full of birds, his brilliant plan to rid the beaches of seagulls is revealed. What a nice man he is.
Back at the beach, the two girls run headlong into the water again, not a care in the world, and as the fog machine goes into overdrive, they're killed faster then you can click your fingers and say 'Just like that'. When they return, trying to seduce a Russian soldier in the most twisted seduction I've seen since Gigli, their hair appears to have been through the wrangler. Should have used Herbal Essences, methinks.
Moving on from soldiers to men of the cloth, they make their move on the reverand, who reveals that they are now, in fact, vampires. Which just doesn't make sense, because everybody knows vampires have imaculate hair. And, once again, the holy water/cross/bible legend is shattered. How many times are we going to have to be told that they don't work? The Reverand is saved, amazingly, by the Doctor, who barges in and tells the vamps firmly, yet politely, to leave. And they do! It's a wonder he doesn't try this approach more often.
Suddenly, the team realise that they;ve got to stop Judsen from translating the new runes that have appeared, since it's resurrecting all the old pop groups of yore who have faded into obscurity. But no! They're too loate! And since the producers of the show have run out of time, they just decide to make that the cliffhanger. Classic stuff, really.
Parte the Third
The Doctor convinces the Commander of the danger and tries to get re-enforcement sent in, but the Commander's quite stupidly had the radios 'disabled'. Which must have been fun for Perkins, who did the honours with a rudy great axe. Meanwhile, we're told that the revived pop bands are what human beings eventually evolve into. So how come Cassandra isn't a blood-sucking leach... oh. Right.
Returning to make sure baby Audrey's alright, she assumes Aubrey's mother is a single mum. Sadly, we'll have to wait about 20 years for that story to be told, but then that said... with a husband in the war, surely it's only a matter of time, right? And on the other side of the base, McCoy shows his true colours by playing the clown. Which is always funny.
Flash forward to a seemingly pointless return to the church and there's water seeping in. Oh dear, that can only mean one thing. Attack of the Undead! There's a good movie in the waiting for you. Running up the top of the chruch, Ace reveals a ladder, which is what all the cool kids are carrying around in those days, apparently. Alas, she climbs down straight into the arms of some waiting monsters. Don't stuggle Ace, all they want is a cuddle! Oh, and to drain all the blood out of you, but that's a given, right? Good news, however - the Russians arrive and promptly blow the budget away with their bullets. Huzzah. Back inside the church, the Doctor chants the words to Pertwee's eternal classic I Am The Doctor, prompting a hideous response from the vampires as theyir brains remember the naffness of the record.
The head Russian holds he creatures at bay with his Abba fan club badge, representing his undying faith that the group will reunite one of these days. After grabbing his men, he returns - just to talk, of course. But the Commander is having none of it and locks him up for the sheer hell of it. Nice chap.
And low and behold, I was right. Single mother ahoy. Now's your chance, fellas!
Outside of this, Ace finally decides to challenge the Doctor and he responds with a wonderful piece of nonsense that puts Ace off ever asking anything of him ever again, which is a blessing I think all Doctors could do with. And then, quite out of the blue, Ace comes up with the most bizarre chat-up technique since... well, Part 2. I'm tempted to try them out myself next time I go down the pub.
Back on something a little more sane, the creatures are making short work of both the door holding them back and the Reverend, marking the beginning of the Great Extras Slaughter of '42 which lasted a whole 40-odd minutes and which is barely known outside of the BBC. We bow our heads in remembrance of the fine extras who fell in the line of budget cuts. May they rest in piece(s).
Judsen has recovered the container of the main villain of the piece - apparently Evil needs a body. Try telling that to Cassandra. But once again the DOctor is too late. The Commander is spewing text like Shakespeare reborn and the crippled Judsen is crippled no more! Although he is now host to an evil from the dawn of time, but still - nice to be up and about again, isn't it?
Part Goes Fourth (that one doesn't work so well, does it?)
And we're straight into the backstory, although it doesn't last long as Fenric shatters windows with nary but a hand gesture and goes to greet his minion(s). Bet they were surprised to meet their maker, hmm? Meanwhile the Doctor and Co. (Another spinoff for you, RTD!) almost get shot before being rescued, while that nice old Commander goes completely fruit-loopy.
Fenric orders the fetching of The Ancient One, which is a bit of a misdinomer, seeing as he's from the far future and probably not very old at all. But it's an impressive title all the same, and I doubt he's pushing very hard to get it changed. Fenric, however, is revealed to have a weakness for Chess - well, who doesn't? - and the Doctor arranges to find a set so he can beat the evil bastard once again. As he waits for the Doctor to set it up, Fenric starts eulogising about the good old days. Unfortunately he'll be waiting for a while, as former nice guy the Commander has rigged his chess set to blow up, but luck be with them, Ace remembers where she saw another set, so off they go.
On the outside, the Russians are being killed left, right and center, and the last two decide to go blow up the deciphering machine which started the whole mess. A wee bit too late, but then that's Russia for you. Back on the inside, the Commander, who really was a nice guy once, honestly, realises that his great chemical weapon will be used to wipe the earth clean, which begs the question - why the bloody hell does he have so much? Overkill much?
Ace gets back to flirting with a Russian soldier, ensuring his demise in the process, while the Great Extra Massacre continues in full swing. Once she's convinced the man to part with his beloved Abba Fan Club badge, she has a sudden pang of conscience and decides to go back and help Audrey's mother escape with her baby. The other Russian, meanwhile, tries to destroy the machine, only to get a bullet in the chest courtesy of the Commander, who, let's be honest here, may well have been a nice guy once, but by now has completely lost his marbles. The Doctor, having FINALLY found a chess set, sets the game up once more.
Fortunatelly for the few survivors at this point, Fenric's superiority complex rises to the fore and he has all the other creatures killed by the Ancient One in a stunning display of disintegration. Then, realising he'll never score any chicks in Judson's body, he leaps into the Russian's. Not knowing this, Ace reveals the solution to the Doctor's puzzle to him, and with nothing standing in his way, he starts laughing in the manner that maniacal villains often do and reveals that everybody was little more then a pawn - Ace included. In a stunning display of twisting someone's words to mean something completely different, the Doctor convinces the Ancient One that Fenric wouldn't do him a single favour one the Earth was his and so gets him to sacrifice itself to take out ol' Fenric.
On the side, the Commander, completly ga-ga and, not just a portion of fries, but also a burger and a carbonated beverage short of a happy meal, finally gets his comuppance as the surviving Russian (the one he shot, remember - I never said he was dead) teams up with a British soldier and shoots the big guy dead. An eye for an eye, and all the rest. Ace learns that is was in fact her mother and grandmother she helped to escape, and wanting to rid herself of the whole horrid experience, washes all the terror away with a swim. Lovely.
...So there we are. Different, but somewhat enjoyable. Anyway, I thought this was a great story and I WILL watch this one again - I'd love to see the extended edition. Hope I haven't bored you guys with this long 'un!
The Bumper Book of Made Up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about The Curse of Fenric: Ace's original seduction speach was to have been the much more simple "Fancy a quicky round the back of the bike shed?", but unfortunately the sideplot that would have developed from this, involving a rock to the back of the head, the cutting up of the body and the burial of the pieces, would have required an extra two days filming which the budget simply wouldn't allow for.
Incidentally, wasn't Torchwood a cracker? And it didn't matter if you loved or hated John Barrowman, 'cause there was something for everyone!
The Doctor's faced with his deadliest confrontation to date. Someone who he's been playing postal chess with has tracked him down and is demanding the next move. How very Daily Telegraph. Stuck in the shadow dimensions for 17 centuries, without a regular mail service, has driven Fenric to distraction. His Game Boy stopped working after the first 13 days, his Rent Boy some time thereafter. His Eartha Kitt compilation album was nowhere to be seen and, worse than all that, he'd only strayed into the shadow dimension because some bird lobed in some mini Baby Bel and he ran in after them.
But, he's free now. And after a quick bathroom stop it's on with the carnage. First name out of the book it's the ancient one. Or the great serpent. Or Barbara Cartland as it's known as on Earth. This gnarled herbert with the flappy gills is required to spew poison all over the Earth, followed by a quick wank over a smutty periodical. Anyone who looks like a cross between Dillon, the Magic Roundabout's dopey rabbit and Sir Leon Brittan always did have a social mountain to climb. He shouldn't really be prioritizing the poisoning of an entire world. Perhaps a quick gill tuck and a dermal peal would be a good first step. One should always look one's best when about to commit genocide on a scale unimaginable (at least, unimaginable on a BBC drama budget).
Ace, on the other hand has to dabble with the manic jet wash of doom. The rampant spewing jets of water heralds the departing of Kathleen and her baby from the story. She's packed off to her nan in Old Street. But not before Kathleen produces a black & white 6x9 glossy of the baby for Ace to remember her by. Why has she been wandering around with large monochrome Polaroid of the kiddy in her jacket pocket? Was it for her entry into the camp's annual bonnie baby competition? She probably has a whole slew of them stashed around somewhere and will bore people ridged with her tales of family bliss. But perhaps they're just the right size to be seen in camera shot. Especially when turned just right so that the camera can see it in all its glory. That's right love, a little to the left, that's smashing.
But at last, the titty wall is back for the final climactic battle. The massed ranks of alien armies battle for supremacy across the very face of the world. Huge battle fleets clash high above in the stratosphere as armies of several millions fight hand to hand on the ground. And if the budget can't actually stretch to that, we'll make do with a game of chess. 
By now Millington's mouth is hanging open for about five minutes at a time, a record that outclasses even Katy Manning in her prime. Although to be scrupulously fair, Jo Grant could have expected something else to plug the gap at any time during her visit to Peladon, whereas Millington has merely given up consonants for Lent. And with GCSE English Lit coming up tomorrow too...
Meanwhile the last of Fenric's own pieces is summoned out of Battlefield with the promise of a second fee, looking for all the world like a genetic cross between the blue blowfish eaten by Homer Simpson and a wad of chewing gum stuck under the table, graced with all the decorum of Matthew Waterhouse. The first thing the Ancient One does when he opens his mouth (or tries to) is WHINE. My world is dead. Oh boo hoo. Small wonder Fenric is so sneeringly disdainful.
Judson's beaming dead face mirrors that of the entire viewing audience as a great cheer erupts throughout the nation when Nurse Crane finally gets hers. Fucking YES.
The destruction of the other haemovores by the Ancient One's sonic thoughtwaves (setting 183: dissolve undead) is the only real let-down in an otherwise superior story; not because it isn't suitably icky (it is), but for how it focuses the entire time on Jean and Phyllis alone. I know the McCoy era was always strapped for cash, but Gordon Bennett; an extra few jump-cuts to other groups writhing in agony wouldn't have been too difficult, surely? Instead of conveying any sense of spectacle, it instead makes you want to flick back through the DVD to check that, yes, there were only half a dozen or so haemovores to begin with. Sad smiley face.
How mindbogglingly STUPID is Ace? The first thing she does when she figures out the chess game metaphor is to go right back to Fenric in order to pointlessly gloat about it. Let's leave that shit to the Master, OK? Fenric's already done a bunk into Captain Sorin anyway, who's never going to get his cossacks off with Dorothy now. This week on Trisha: 'My Boyfriend's An Evil Force'. And THIS time the BBC glass-break noise as AYYYYYYYYYYYYYCE realises she's done it again is loud enough to wake the Empty Child himself. Mummee. Muuuuu-shit, what was that?
Let's face it, Ace has been long overdue for some applied psychological trauma in order for the Ancient One to apply chemical death and take the possessed Sorin out with him in a cloud of green vapour. But even she does not deserve the dead leg I will dish out to the first person to say 'Sorin gas'. Recriminatons are quickly forgotten down at the bay when the Doctor remarks, "Look, there's a Blue Peter badge down there", so naturally Ace feels compelled to dive in and fetch it.
Much like alien worlds in the new Who, the sexuality of the Doctor's collection of waifs and strays was rarely ever explored. That is if you ignore the episode where the Third Doctor had to whore out Jo Grant's muck spreader, to bribe many a lusty prison guard on the penile colony of Rectal 7, to let them escape their incarceration. What's that? Penal colony! I know what I mean... Even Perkins thought he was in with a chance of some lady action thanks, in part, to his manly handling of his little chopper.
As a counter balance to this animal attraction they had to make up Ace's future grandmother to look like a Disney cartoon cat with a cheek disorder so disfiguring it would have made John Merrick wince with pity should he have ever seen her. Her purring soon curtailed when she receives news of her husband's death and the option to come back next season in a parallel Earth show where she meets her dead husband. Yeah, like that would have ever happened.
Meanwhile, the low rent Pirates of the Caribbean watery fools, the ones with multi cheerios stuck all over them, get rather excited at the news that the sultry Scandinavian singing sensation, the Sundvik's, are appearing at the local church. For those who aren't familiar with their work, these three singing transsexuals have packed abattoirs and convents alike, all across the lowlands, with their own brand of onanistic solo abuse. Their attraction isn't limited to flesh, even the Ultima machine is a fan, spunking out the single word titles of their greatest hits. Who couldn't forget the haunting stains of the thrash folk ballad, Sigvald? What's that? Strains? I know what I mean...
Why is it that these things always seem to come down to evil from beyond the dawn of time? Or after the dusk of the Universe? Or from outside the M25? And why is it using, as one of its lead emissaries on Earth, someone from Grange Hill? Whilst Ace is withering on about wind in her clothes, the Vicar is experiencing an all too different form of wind in his clothes as bodily functions make a right mess of his slacks.
Episode three already? Time for the mad computer to do its stuff then. Judson and Millington watch forlornly as the viewing figures start coming in; it's not good news as the Ultima machine has time to print out a list of every single person left watching. Here's hoping it's long enough to keep it occupied until part four. Millington in his frustration has had a typically Brigadier moment and lashed out at the studio props most vulnerable to a spot of needless violence; 'disabling' a radio with a fire axe isn't just excessive, it's a bit Goon Show. You stupid nit Eccles.
Considering Ace has been blessed with her own private time-travel education she must be skimping on her homework a bit, since after roughly the same length of episode time even Billie was more au fair with cultural attitudes over 1940s out-of-wedlock offspring than Ace is. It's a good thing she wasn't stranded on Iceworld for long then as who knows who knows what kind of nuptial customs she would have gotten used to. Kathleen is quite extraordinarily forgiving, as well as having the scariest Howdy Doody smile that I'm sure must be the real reason Ace is so estranged from the rest of her family. Pay attention Russel, this is how you do 'domestic' PROPERLY.
Andrew Cartmel obviously put in this next bit from the spectacular view it affords as Ace climbs down the turret. Why else would she keep a rope ladder in that limited satchel space already heaving with illicit explosives? What prompts a person putting a survival kit together to think, 'Food, water? Nah, I'll keep a knotted sheet handy just in case I have to escape from the Tower of London. Sorted.' I'd like to think that somewhere in Ace's magical bag of holding there's also a big fuck-off zeppelin from The Age Of Steel. 
Just as all looks lost Sly plumps for a last desperate gamble, attempting to summon the aid of his cohort David Rappaport by uttering six words with double-O in a row. Astoundingly it works, as the haemovores are tormented with visions of Adrian Hedley miming at the camera, and flee in panic. Thank Doig for that. 
I don't want to dwell too much on Kathleen's letter, the angry confrontation between Ace and the Doctor, and Ace's enigmatic verbal teasing of undercurrents in the guard's trouser tent-peg, because the writing and drama are just so beautiful it would only spoil the mood. I don't think I'm exaggerating that for sheer passionate delivery, 'evil since the dawn of time' is right up there with 'humans, they're indomitable' and 'do I have the right' from Tom Baker's first season; and just as I felt with Tom more than thirty years ago, this was a moment to remain in the enraptured minds of small children that told them yes, Sylvester McCoy really was the Doctor. Can you see Tennant's mug stop grinning long enough to project even one single sentence of this? NO.
Ingiga. The Great Wyrm; also old high Scandinavian for 'you're shagged mate'. We play the contest again, Time Lord. It'll be live from Cleethorps, where the teams are dressed up as penguins and have to run up a slide carrying buckets of water.
Do you know, in over sixteen years I haven't once heard anyone question the logic of a glorified C++ Eliza program that reads like a Tolkien book. It's like an executive office meeting with presentational Venn diagrams that play out the opening scene from every episode of The Prisoner. Perhaps its the sheer poetry of such a device that makes it so much more evil and sinister that you accept it here without question - though if Bill Gates ever launches an operating system scripted entirely in Shakespearian sonnets, I'm booking the first flight out to Mars.
Returning to the church basement in order to split up and look for clues, Ace and the Doctor find nothing, save a fresh OLAF WOZ ERE scrawled on the wall. Chin up lads; it hasn't been a total loss so far as there's a second scrunched-up Blanketty Blank chequebook and pen in their possession now, liberated from the Russians who are grimly hanging on for the chance to win a weekend in Brighton for 300 blanks. There aren't, however, any blanks in Millington's revolver; that stony expression is fooling nobody since he's clearly a Do Or Die card short of the Escape From Colditz board games he orders off the base later on.
Luckily for Sylvester, a few choice phrases from the Dirty Norwegian Phrasebook are enough to convince Millington to reveal the ultimate lethal weapon for winning the war; the original first-draft text of Monty Python's funniest joke in the world. Down in the secret eggbox laboratory, a crack team of scientists are working to encode the joke one syllable each at a time for maximum safety, and once the political climate is appropriate, the plan is to allow the Ultima machine to decrypt the entire joke at once right in the heart of the Kremlin. The consequences would be horrendous for all mankind - no wonder Sylvester looks so disgusted, though it could just be intense jealousy from not having material of this calibre of his own during his Tiswas days.
Miss Hardaker is determined to make the most of whatever little screen time the production let her have before the boom microphone explodes from her shrill delivery. Here's a tip for prospective adoption agencies: old spinsters with eyeballs that threaten to pop out and reveal Judge Doom from Who Framed Roger Rabbit underneath are people your abandoned waifs should STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM. But before Jean and Phyllis can reach a phone to contact the 1940s equivalent of Social Services, they fall victim to the giant dry-ice hose that saw off the Primords in Inferno, reappearing mere moments later sporting the most inept manicures known to man. The reason I'm writin' is how to grow chitin...
Wainwright's Seventh Seal-esque response to present developments is to wish Ingmar Bergman was Ingrid instead so he could bugger off on the plane to Casablanca.
Kudos to the make-up artist for a bang-up mask and prosthetics job on the Norseferatu as they rise from the sea, although logically they should look more like bloated Michelin Men corpses if they've been drowned underwater for so long. Evolution dictates that in the future, mankind will become so dependent on sugary junk food that human facial physionomy will genetically adapt itself for maximum consumption and absorption of blueberry Fruit Loops.
Part of the reason The Curse Of Fenric is a positive breath of fresh air in a sadder, wimpier, jaded time of underpowered British fantasy telly is that it feels so much like a more traditional slice of Who as Phillip Hinchcliffe and Eric Saward in his fresher years might have envisioned it together; Phil giving us the base under siege, period and costume detail and loving horror-movie homage, and Eric providing the brisk pace and copious quantities of gratuitous death. Back in the 70s this would have been the season's six-parter, no question; it almost feels too epic for four episodes, with just the OB video (film always makes Who look more expensive than it really is) and music spoiling the illusion somewhat. Late 80s post-Radiophonic MIDI sounds dated and incongruous in a historical setting no matter who the composer, but if it's a choice between Mark Ayres' occasional nod to the Billy Cotton Band and Keff McCullough's anneurism-inducing faux-fifties torture from Delta And The Bannermen, I know which side my bread's buttered.
How many Scooby Snacks must it have taken to persuade Ace to climb into that 1940s attire and slinky-spring hairdo? Though she does remain defiantly true to her cock-er-nee ragamuffin credentials by wearing a string vegetable bag on her head from the local East End fruit market. Between Fenric and the Victorian dress and penguin suit she would be forced to wear in Ghost Light, the Doctor's definitely having a spiteful laugh to see what he can get away with - like he can talk; the chunky tramp's pullover is synonymous with every fashion age. It's almost a pity the show had to end after this season and we were denied Mark Platt's original vision of Lungbarrow in which Ace is shown around Gallifrey in a harlequin outfit, and doesn't look a hair out of place. Somewhere along the line I reckon Andrew Cartmel misread the script and thought Jean and Phyllis were calling her 'paper doll' instead. Dress your own Ace! BBC Enterprises could have made a fortune out of those from Cartmel alone. 
Poor old Nicholas Parsons has drawn the short straw and been given the Derek Nimmo role in the stage farce comedy 'No Necks Please, We're Bloodsuckers'. It's a tribute to Parsons' little-opportuned skills as a real dramatic actor that once Reverend Wainwright reaches his sell-by date in part three - as you know the faithless vicar must do, Father Karras from The Exorcist nodding sagely at this point - he really isn't a character I wanted to actually snuff it; and this level of sympathy for a support charcter was pretty thin on ground at this stage in the programme's life.
Back in base, Fenric's time paradox is already starting to become unravelled by way of baby Audrey's stuffed Superted. Ace's valiant efforts at rudeness over baby-naming conventions are instantly overshadowed by Millington's own, which is why he's the commanding officer and privy to such office luxuries as the Doctor Who pewter chess set by Danbury Mint. And after twenty-five minutes of condensed plot, it's almost a relief to be greeted with a cliffhanger that requires no dialogue or exposition as Ace and the Doctor stumble across the dead soldier, only to be instantly surrounded by an accusing circle of Russian rifles.
