Doctor Who Decades: The 1970s

Every time Doctor Who reaches the end of a decade, it seems to be an automatic point of change and renewal for the series. Here's the second in a series of blogs looking back over a decade of Doctor Who.

The 1970s

So here I am, more than two years after I wrote about the 1960s, at the end of another decade of Doctor Who. It's not quite the end of an era, but it definitely feels like the end of Doctor Who's 1970s with the final episode of The Horns of Nimon, broadcast just 12 days into 1980. A lot changes after Season 17, and although there's another season of Tom Baker's Fourth Doctor to go, it's a good opportunity to stop, take stock and look back at what has been a rollercoaster 10 years.

Whereas the 1960s began as a mild curiosity in a junkyard, the 1970s began with a technicolour bang at a cottage hospital in deepest Essex. Doctor Who changed so much between Seasons 6 and 7 that it was almost unrecognisable to what had gone before. The War Games had been an epic finale for the season, the Second Doctor and the decade, but as soon as Jon Pertwee collapsed out of the TARDIS in Oxley Woods in Spearhead from Space - in colour, and on film - it was clear the series had a renewed impetus. Pertwee was an older leading man, but that didn't matter because this new Doctor was all about the action! It was like Doctor Who had been given an ITC transplant, and suddenly it felt like a contemporary of one of Lord Lew Grade's genre-twisting action-packed exports such as Department S or Strange Report.

The Horns of Nimon Part Four

The one where Romana visits a planet ravaged by the Nimon...

It's the last episode of this story, as well as the last episode of Season 17. It's also the last episode made in the 1970s, the last episode produced by Graham Williams, the last episode script edited by Douglas Adams, the last episode featuring David Brierley as the voice of K-9, the last episode scored by Dudley Simpson, the last episode to feature the diamond logo, the last episode to feature the original Tom Baker titles from 1974, and the last episode to use the Delia Derbyshire arrangement of the theme tune. It's also the last episode to see Tom Baker wearing his original multi-coloured scarf, and the last Fourth Doctor episode to crack 10 million viewers (or get anywhere near it). That's a lot of lasts.

Of course, it wasn't planned to be the last of any of these things, but following the loss of the sixth and final story of Season 17, Shada, thanks to industrial action, The Horns of Nimon inherited them all. I won't be reviewing Shada on this blog because it was never finished or transmitted in the way it would have been at the time. To all intents and purposes, Shada was aborted and only forms part of the Doctor Who canon thanks to subsequent recreations in audio and animated form. I think I'd find it hard to review an audio Shada or cartoon Shada in the same context as I have the rest of the series, so I'll leave it to one side, just as happened back in 1979.

The Horns of Nimon Part Three

The one where the Nimon's plan for mass migration becomes clear...

It's the first episode of the 1980s, and the first notable thing to happen is that a dying man splits his pants. Let's hope it's not a bad omen for what lies ahead, but I suppose it summarises the last few weeks of the 1970s quite aptly!

Now that the Doctor's back on the scene, Romana reverts back to her second-in-command status, which is a shame because Lalla Ward made a fantastic lead. Most of this episode concerns the Doctor, Romana, Seth and Teka running along corridors and asking questions to which there are few answers. Simon Gipps-Kent's Seth feels like a prototype for Season 18's Adric, but I can't help thinking it might have been better if Gipps-Kent played Adric, or perhaps Seth became a companion who stayed on into Season 18. I don't feel the same fondness for Janet Ellis as Teka sadly. As the prototype Nyssa of the set-up, she's just as plain as Sarah Sutton.

The Horns of Nimon Part Two

The one where Romana becomes the Doctor...

Tom Baker might as well have taken the week off for this episode for all the impact he has. It would have been absolutely fine with Romana taking the Doctor's lead role for the episode, and to be honest, preferable. Lalla Ward is every inch the lead actor here: she looks the part, she acts the part, and she's even given the part by writer Anthony Read. While Romana gets on with the story proper, the Doctor's back in the TARDIS messing about like he's in an episode of Crackerjack.

Every now and then the episode cuts back to the Doctor in the TARDIS, like a late 1970s BBC variety show which jumps between barely amusing comedy sketches. All the guff with the Doctor trying to fix the console is puerile, and when Dick "Special Sounds" Mills wheels out that awful sound effect for the console going whiz-bang-pop (from an old radio episode of The Goons?), it descends into embarrassment. I'm not sure Doctor Who has ever been more infantile. Dear, oh dear...

The Horns of Nimon Part One

The one where the Doctor dismantles the TARDIS...

Another post-Star Wars Doctor Who story, another opening shot of a spaceship flying past the camera. They never look as awesome as George Lucas's ships, of course, but I admire the production team's indefatigable determination to reproduce its effect for British TV! The inside of this ship has quite a detailed set by Graeme Story, full of computer banks and controls and all sorts of gubbins on the walls. Story has also used the ubiquitous triangular wall moulds that date back as far as 1972's The Mutants, as well as some barely disguised ribbed tumble dryer hoses! Ingenuity at work.

These opening scenes mainly comprise two grumpy space pilots arguing over how quickly they can get from A to B. The Pilot is keen not to rush things because the ship is so old it might not take the strain, whereas the Co-Pilot wants to get to their destination as fast as they can when he learns this is the last time they'll have to do it. The Co-Pilot's rash behaviour causes the ageing ship to buckle under the strain, and after a series of explosions and collapsing set, the craft is left hanging in space, powerless and directionless. That'll teach Co-Pilots to take matters into their own hands.

Nightmare of Eden Part Four

The one where we find out who the drug smugglers are...

There's a lovely scene near the start of this episode where Romana and Della talk about what happened on Eden and to Della's lover, Stott. Romana knows that Stott is alive, but holds this vital information back until she discovers exactly why Della thinks Stott's dead. It transpires she was told as much by Tryst, who even went to the trouble of mocking up a grisly vis-print to prove it. Lalla Ward and Jennifer Lonsdale pitch the dialogue beautifully, Lonsdale in particular hitting the right emotional tone when she learns Stott is still alive. It doesn't quite pass the Bechdel Test, but it's a touching moment between two women amid the nonsense.

The Doctor comes round aboard Dymond's Hecate, having slipped through the wrong side of the closing matter interface. He discovers Dymond has a CET machine and an enchooka laser aboard ship, which would enable him to extract the crystal projections from Tryst's CET machine aboard the Empress, then turn tail and run (with the vraxoin safely stowed within the projections). It's an ingenious idea, and all credit to Bob Baker for such an adult, thoughtful, workable plot. When you take away the silly monsters and the silver space costumes, Nightmare of Eden is actually one of the most original stories of the era.

Nightmare of Eden Part Three

The one where the Doctor discovers the source of vraxoin...

The monsters are called Mandrels ("Mandrel. Doctor, they're called Mandrels") and, let's take a step back here, they're not that bad. Often maligned, these monsters are actually quite nicely designed, quite well sculpted, even if they do look a little bit like grinning toads. They tower over human beings, they're big and scaly, they're ferocious with slicing claws and glowing green eyes, and they ROAR at people, just like proper monsters should. They look infinitely better in the gloom of the Eden projection, and lose most of their impact when lit in the harsh studio lighting of the Empress corridors, but still... I'm not going to knock them too much because they look like proper Doctor Who monsters. So there.

The early scenes of the Doctor and Romana creeping around the forest of Eden are gorgeous, lit so effectively by Warwick Fielding. It all feels so dangerous and dark, which heightens the tension and atmosphere no end. I love the slo-mo footage of the vines wrapping themselves around the Doctor's legs, like something out of an M R James adaptation, sort of uncanny and unsettling.

Nightmare of Eden Part Two

The one where Captain Rigg's drink is spiked with vraxoin...

Seeing the cliffhanger reprised just makes the whole thing seem even worse than before. You can actually see Tom Baker and David Daker trying to disguise their mirth as they approach the panel to remove it, because they know what lunacy lies behind it. A monster lunges out of the hole, swathed in dry ice, and K-9 wastes no time in shooting at it to fend it off. The oddest thing about it all is that neither the Doctor or Rigg appear to be very scared of the monster, which is probably because it doesn't look all that threatening, but really, as actors, they should have reacted a little more realistically.

And then they just pop the panel back into place (held from behind by a mysterious hand!) and the monster's gone again. "What the devil was that?" asks Rigg with barely a trace of fear or apprehension. They just take the fact there's a monster in the walls in their stride, it's directed so poorly by Alan Bromly, with no attempt at realism (as real as science-fiction can get).

Nightmare of Eden Part One

The one where a spaceship materialises as part of another spaceship...

"By Bob Baker". Whatever happened to his mate, Dave Martin? Baker and Martin were consistently the most imaginative scriptwriters Doctor Who had throughout the 1970s, and certainly the writers with the least regard for the programme's budget. They were fantastic ideas men who let their imaginations run riot on the page, and it was up to the programme makers to translate that imagination into affordable TV drama. Sometimes the boys' ambition outweighed the programme's capabilities, and at other times Doctor Who rose admirably to the demands, but whatever the outcome, Baker and Martin rarely disappointed. Now that Martin is gone (not dead, just gone), I wonder whether Baker can carry on the tradition?

The opening shot is another of Doctor Who's attempts to be Star Wars, with an extravagantly designed spaceship CSO'ing its way through space reminiscent of, but not much like, Star Wars' Tantive IV and Star Destroyer. But then the ship shimmers out of existence, and straightaway Doctor Who has done something different (although it later transpires its jumped into warp-speed, for which we must read light-speed, so perhaps Baker's imagination has wandered somewhat).

The Creature from the Pit Part Four

The one where a giant egg weaves a metal shell around a neutron star...

It's all coming out now! Now that the Tythonian beast has got his little appendages on the weird shield thing, he's able to take control of the larynx of whoever holds it and communicate with everybody. The big green blob is actually named Erato, High Ambassador from the planet Tythonus, who came to Chloris 15 years ago to strike a trade deal. But instead of been welcomed with open arms by the people of Chloris, Erato was unlucky enough to bump into the self-serving Adrasta first, who tricked him into falling into the pit and skulking around in her spent metal mine.

It's all about economics and greed, you see. The Tythonians live on chlorophyll and mineral ores, but that's all running out on their planet, so when they heard there was a world virtually made of chlorophyll (the clue was in the name) they thought it would be a good idea to trade Tythonian metal for Chlorisian vegetable matter, so that the big blobs could eat well and the people of Chloris could use the metal to fight back the suffocating plant-life. But Adrasta, being owner of the only metal mine and most of the metal on Chloris, saw the trade mission as a threat to her wealth and supremacy, so chucked Erato into the pit and fed astrologers at him (great line from the Doctor, that!).

The Creature from the Pit Part Three

The one where the Doctor tries (and fails) to communicate with the creature...

The creature from the pit looks like a giant plastic carrier bag. There are actually endless amusing ways to describe what the creature prop looks like - many have done so, many more have yet to try - but what it essentially boils down to is that it looks absolutely appalling. It's one of the biggest design flops in Doctor Who history. It's not as if designers haven't managed to come up with similar monsters convincingly in the past (the Axons, Krynoid and Rutans spring to mind), but visual effects designer Mat Irvine really does drop the ball here, producing something that makes the programme a laughing stock.

Pity poor Tom Baker who has to spend half the episode in a one-way conversation with the thing. It's a testament to Baker's ability to hold a scene by sheer personality alone that he gets through it at all, but you can see him failing to suppress his mirth at one point. It's inadvisable that he should gently tap the creature's skin, as that merely emphasises the fact it's made of polythene. But it's absolutely the wrong choice to make when he lifts the creature's waggly appendage and blows into it. We're supposed to see the Doctor investigating whether it is a voicepipe, but what we actually see is Doctor Who wandering dangerously close to adult entertainment (a word I use loosely).

The Creature from the Pit Part Two

The one where the Doctor meets a subterranean astrologer...

Grappling onto the sides of The Pit's wall, the Doctor produces from his capacious pockets some rock-climbing pins and a hammer. Now, that's pretty silly isn't it, although certainly not unprecedented that the Doctor should be carrying something wildly appropriate (or inappropriate!) when required. But when he realises he's not altogether sure how to use the rock-climbing equipment, he produces from his pocket a book entitled Everest in Easy Stages. Now that's even sillier, bordering on ridiculous. But when he discovers the book's written in Tibetan, he then produces another book entitled Teach Yourself Tibetan, and that is just several steps too far! It's a great joke, very funny in fact, it's just that it doesn't really have a place here. It's more Basil Brush than Doctor Who (although telling the two apart sometimes is tricksy). This is not a sketch show, this is an adventure in time and space, so stop trying to look smart and get on with it.

Admonishment over. Moving on to Romana, she is the prisoner of the Lady Adrasta, a woman who knows her mind, is no fool, but is more than happy to talk about her problems and fill complete strangers in on the situation at hand. She answers almost every one of Romana's questions, but refuses to expand on why she's interested in the giant eggshell. "There are some questions, my dear, it is better not to ask."

The Creature from the Pit Part One

The one where the Doctor and K-9 are attacked by sentient vegetation...

The TARDIS spins through time and space. Well actually, it's spinning through a big cloud of soap suds, but we'll let that slide. Within the police box, we have to endure one of those ridiculous introductory scenes where Tom Baker gets to be childish and anarchic. This time he's found slumped on the TARDIS floor (the Fourth Doctor rarely uses chairs) with K-9 reading Beatrix Potter, while Romana is busy cleaning out the hold.

There are two observations to zone in on here. Firstly, that K-9's voice has changed, now provided by David Brierley and not John Leeson, which is a little jarring. It can be explained within the fiction by the fact K-9 had laryngitis at the start of the season, but Brierley's prim voice just seems wrong. There's nothing actually wrong with it, it's just that it's different, and as a result, not as good (rather like David Gooderson's Davros). The other observation is that Lalla Ward is wearing one of the most horrendous outfits I've ever seen come out of the TARDIS wardrobe (this is a wardrobe that also harboured the Sixth Doctor's coat). I just don't think it suits her at all, it's like a Victorian nightie, and then there's the awful headband and curtained hairstyle. I'm sure some people appreciate it, but it's far too Laura Ashley for me. Gillian Thomas's make-up for Ward is awful too. It looks like it's been applied by an eight-year-old girl experimenting on mummy for the first time. Yeuch!

City of Death Part Four

The one where Scaroth goes back in time in order to stop himself having to go back in time...

This is the big one, the episode that a whopping 16.1 million people sat down to watch at 6.15pm on Saturday, October 20th, 1979. It is the single most-watched episode of Doctor Who ever, and will probably retain that record forever. Sadly, the main reason for that is not because everybody thought Doctor Who was the best thing on the box, but because it was pretty much the only thing on the box! ITV was on strike, it was completely off air, leaving just the two BBC channels to choose from, so it's no wonder that everybody plumped for Doctor Who. After all, the only other thing they could have watched was Grapevine on BBC2, which was about how trades union and community self-help groups were taking action to... oh blimey, who cares?! There's a spaghetti-headed monster on BBC1 dressed like the Man from Del Monte!

So 16 million people saw David Graham reprise his "death boogie" from last week, and those same 16 million people saw the culmination of one of Doctor Who's wittiest stories ever. Thank goodness these circumstances didn't manifest a few weeks later when it could have been The Horns of Nimon everybody saw!

City of Death Part Three

The one where Scaroth starts to go to pieces...

I love the knowing exchanges between Julian Glover and Tom Baker (and later, Lalla Ward), they're all so adept at delivering the dialogue with just the right tone it was written for. The characters metaphorically circle each other, weighing one another up, going along with the charade of false politeness. When the Doctor asks Tancredi what he's doing in 1505, the Captain replies: "I will tell you. The knowledge will be of little use to you, since you will shortly die." Wonderful stuff!

It seems that Captain Tancredi is not a distant relation of Count Scarlioni's; they are the same man, or at least aspects of the same man. They share their thoughts and can communicate mentally across the barriers of time and space. Tancredi affably explains that he is really Scaroth, last of the Jagaroth race (the spaghetti-headed aliens), and that when the spaceship we saw at the start of part 1 exploded, he, as the last survivor, was fractured into several splinters through time. So Tancredi and Scarlioni are both Scaroth, different shards of his splintered existence. All identical, none complete. What a fascinating idea. It's also rather tragic, as reflected in the solemn way the Doctor responds to the news (as opposed to a cheap wisecrack). I suppose the Doctor, as a Time Lord, can relate to the feeling of being one man being in several places at once.

City of Death Part Two

The one where the Doctor finds six genuine Mona Lisas...

Why does Scarlioni take his face off? It doesn't lead to anything other than providing a good cliffhanger, but the sense of it is lost. What is clever though, is that the carving on the great wooden doors of his chateau appropriately reflect his true spaghetti-faced countenance. In reality, they are the doors of the Hotel des Ambassadeurs des Hollande on Rue Vieille du Temple, and the carvings depict the heads of Medusa, with her hair of snakes. I googled the doors and it looks like they've since been painted red. I wonder what the Count would say about that?

Inside, it's back to a BBC studio, but Richard McManan-Smith's stunning design and decor for the chateau's interior is richly detailed. You barely get to see the corridor properly (fleetingly at the end of part 1, and only in part in this episode) but it's so well dressed, and the amount of research, not to mention time and effort, that went into designing and dressing the living room is astonishing. McManan-Smith was more accustomed to designing sets for variety and comedy shows at the time, such as Mike Yarwood or Lennie Bennett, although he had dabbled with period drama in the past, notably The Pallisers and Colditz. But here, he simply excels himself, as he does with the Renaissance scenes later on.

City of Death Part One

The one where the Doctor and Romana go on honeymoon holiday to Paris...

Ah, this one's written by David Agnew, the same bloke who wrote The Invasion of Time, so that doesn't bode well. In truth, of course, Agnew wasn't a real person, but a pseudonym first used by scriptwriter Anthony Read in 1971 for his Play for Today Hell's Angel, and later his BBC2 play Diane. Read adopted the alias for The Invasion of Time while he was Doctor Who's script editor, sharing it with producer Graham Williams, and it pops up again here as the pseudonym of Williams, new script editor Douglas Adams and writer David Fisher, who came up with the first ideas of what City of Death is based on. A bit of a mish-mash then.

The opening sequence (one of those that would've made a fab cold open if Doctor Who did them back then) features a gorgeous model set of a prehistoric landscape, centring in on an alien spaceship that vies with the Movellans' craft in the last story for sheer design creativity. This ship is a three-legged spider design, with a spherical centre housing an exposed cockpit. It's a radically different and unusual design by one of Doctor Who's unsung heroes, Ian Scoones, and it's a shame City of Death was his last work for the show. He'd also done excellent modelwork for stories such as The Ambassadors of Death, Pyramids of Mars and The Invisible Enemy.

Destiny of the Daleks Episode Four

The one where the Daleks turn kamikaze...

Davros, ever the self-preservationist, demands that the Daleks call him a cab in the form of a deep space cruiser to take him away from Skaro and to safety. Unfortunately, the cruiser (which I'd love to see) will take six hours to get to Skaro, which just isn't quick enough for Davros's liking. The Kaled crackpot is also annoyed that there's such a thing as a Dalek Supreme ruling the roost, and insists that as Dalek creator, he should be the one deciding the Daleks' destiny. It's a fascinating set-up for Dalek stories to come, in which the Daleks are factionalised and start fighting among themselves. The fact the Dalek battle computers are too logical in their stratagems also hints at gruesome developments seen in Remembrance of the Daleks and Bad Wolf, where we see human beings wired into Dalek tech to outwit the constraints of logic.

Davros continues to jiggle his way around in his little wheelchair spouting about his personal supremacy and how the Daleks will thrive under his command. But at the end of the day - and this isn't really any fault of David Gooderson's - Davros just isn't up to scratch here. Gooderson doesn't do a bad job of portraying Davros, he's just different to Michael Wisher, and different in a way that isn't as good, sadly. There's nothing specific about Gooderson's Davros that's wrong, it's just that he's not Michael Wisher, and you can't really criticise him too much for that!

Destiny of the Daleks Episode Three

The one where the Doctor takes Davros hostage...

"The resurrection has come!" claims Davros, rather presciently it turns out. Davros has been asleep for rather a long time, and in that time he's changed somewhat. He still looks pretty much the same, and he's using the same wheelchair, but his voice is a little more hoarse, and he's developed a penchant for florid proclamations of his own invincibility, and the superiority of his creations, the Daleks. It seems that Davros didn't die at the end of Genesis of the Daleks, it was just his primary life support system which was damaged. Luckily, he had a back-up, which put his main bodily organs into suspension and set about regenerating synthetic tissue. So the Davros we see here is less Davros than we saw in Genesis of the Daleks. He's more synthetic now.

Something else that's changed is the man playing Davros. Michael Wisher was unavailable to reprise the role, so the part went instead to David Gooderson, who had to perform using Wisher's mask and wheelchair. Vocally, Gooderson makes Davros growlier and more theatrical, less calculating and more in the line of a generic monster of the week. It doesn't help that the character is treated with such disdain by the writer, but then Terry Nation reportedly had little to do with the serial as broadcast (director Ken Grieve claimed script editor Douglas Adams wrote 98% of the script). And you can tell, because I do not believe Nation would have treated his creation quite as poorly as Adams does.

Destiny of the Daleks Episode Two

The one where the Doctor discovers what the Daleks are digging for...

Watching the reprise made me realise that it's just Terry Nation fashioning a retread of his very first cliffhanger way back in 1963, in which Barbara was pressed against a wall and screaming as a Dalek advanced on her. Here, it's similarly done, with Romana pressed against a wall and suitably terrified. Nation was never afraid to reuse a good idea if it worked, although the number of times he reused those good ideas did get a little tiresome (Planet of the Daleks is the ultimate in reused ideas, although that feels more nostalgic because Nation had been away for so long).

Lalla Ward really sells Romana's fear here, presenting her as utterly terrified of the Daleks, which are content to shriek at her repeatedly until they get the answer they demand. Romana seems so scared of them that she temporarily loses the ability to speak, and when she does respond it's with a burst of terror-stricken emotion. When the Daleks interrogate Romana in their control room (ooh, it's that lovely Dalek heartbeat sound!) the questioning is relentless and merciless ("You will not remove your hand from the sensor!"), and Romana is actually brought to tears by it all.

Destiny of the Daleks Episode One

The one where Romana changes her body as if she's changing her clothes...

Even the opening titles of this story deserve comment. Right from the start we know that this is going to be a Dalek story, and that's quite exciting because it's the first time the Daleks have appeared in Doctor Who since Season 12's Genesis of the Daleks in April 1975 - almost four-and-a-half years ago. It's also the last story to be written by Dalek creator Terry Nation before he handed over the narrative reins to Eric Saward. Finally, it's the first story since The Green Death to have "episodes" rather than "parts", as well as the last time "episode" would ever be used (it's parts from now on).

The opening five minutes have divided fandom over the years, principally because it's taking liberties with the established way of things. In the past, the Doctor has regenerated into a seemingly random new body, certainly not one chosen by himself, but here we see Romana chopping and changing bodies as she regenerates as if she's shopping in Dorothy Perkins. She first appears as Princess Astra from the last story, then cycles through a number of ridiculous forms (including a blue midget and a Greek giantess) until settling once again on Astra's form.

The Armageddon Factor Part Six

The one where the quest for the Key to Time finally comes to a climax...

Drax reduces first the Doctor, then himself, to miniature proportions in some bizarrely misguided attempt to escape the Shadow's Mute, but actually makes the whole situation much worse because before he was miniaturised, the Doctor left the TARDIS door open. This means that they are now powerless to stop the Shadow waltzing into the TARDIS and snatching the five segments of the Key to Time for his boss, the Black Guardian. Well done, Drax.

Except the Mute is not the sharpest knife in the box and gets distracted by looking for the Doctor rather than taking some initiative and grabbing the Key. This is perfectly in keeping with the rest of the plot at this point, which has ground to a halt somewhat. The Doctor can't do anything because he's roughly the size of an inch; Romana can't do anything because she is the Shadow's prisoner; and the Marshal can't do anything because he's still stuck in a time loop. The only character who can do anything to move the plot on is the Shadow, who is now free to obtain the Key to Time and ultimately destroy the Universe.

The Armageddon Factor Part Five

The one where the Doctor bumps into an old school friend...

Astra is behaving very oddly. She's transfixed by the Key to Time, just standing staring at it as if it's the answer to life, the universe and everything (which it kind of is!). She speaks in a voice which screams "I am under the influence of an evil power", and the Doctor's already clocked the fact she's got a control device on her neck. So why oh why does he let Romana go off with Astra without telling her his suspicions? Surely that's a pretty reckless thing to do, to not tell your companion that they're walking off with the enemy. It's something the Seventh Doctor might do.

It seems the Doctor has more confidence in Romana than he should, telling the Shadow that she can look after herself, because she's a Time Lord. But that's not really the case, is it? Because Romana is actually a very inexperienced adventuress, someone who does not naturally gravitate toward violence or self-defence. So when she's faced with the muzzle of a gun, she doesn't try to escape, or charm her way out of the situation. She just gives in. And that means she ends up wracked with pain inside the Shadow's torture chamber, because Romana very rarely fights back. So Doctor, you were wrong: Romana cannot look after herself, and you were negligent in not telling her about Astra. Case closed.

The Armageddon Factor Part Four

The one where the Doctor stops the entire Universe...

So because Mentalis thinks it's already won the war between Zeos and Atrios, it's not bothered any more about self-preservation and is content to allow the Marshal to obliterate Zeos, and itself with it. What's the use of a war computer that just goes into hibernation after the war? It's not a very clever computer: it's good for just one thing, and then it's about as useful as a blunt cheese grater.

Even less clever is Mentalis activating its self-destruct mechanism, which means that despite having saved Zeos from the war with Atrios, it's doubly content to allow Zeos to go to Hell after the fact, it's job now done. It's happy to let the Marshal blow it to smithereens, and just as happy to blow it up itself when it self-destructs. Mentalis is bloody mental!

The Armageddon Factor Part Three

The one where the Doctor discovers there are no Zeons on Zeos...

Merak's a bit of a thicko, isn't he? He's supposed to be a highly intelligent and qualified surgeon, but he's written and played as if he's really dense. His whole existence seems consumed by the need to find his beloved Astra safe and well. Forget the fact he has loads of ill and dying patients to care for in his bombed out hospitals. Merak seems content to dedicate his life to walking around calling "Astra!", or asking stupid-ass questions like "What are bees?"

I got a personal pang of pleasure from seeing Romana set about him with her previously unseen self defence skills, because he really is such a wimp. And now he's joined the Doctor's gang on Zeos, along with the slightly less annoying Shapp, played by Davyd Harries as if he's in a children's play. Up to now, his presence has been largely forgettable, but now he has his own story strand (if that's what you can call it), he's let a tendency for silliness rise to the surface (perhaps influenced by Tom Baker?). The truth is, both Merak and Shapp are completely surplus to requirements, following the Doctor and Romana around like lost sheep. I'm hoping they're being set up as canon fodder, but somehow I doubt it.

The Armageddon Factor Part Two

The one where K-9 almost gets melted down for scrap...

This episode must have had the younger viewers anxiously biting their nails in fear that sweet little K-9 would be melted down as scrap metal in the Marshal's furnace. It is, admittedly, quite a nervous time for those with a fondness for the canine computer, watching him roll inexorably toward a fiery furnace (although we never see a single flame!). As he approaches the end of the line, K-9 sorrowfully has to close down and face his combustible demise. Luckily, the Doctor manages to rescue him in the nick of time, leaving K-9 barely singed (but a bit smoky!). He's a very hot dog.

All this jeopardy comes well over a year before the world saw C-3PO broken down for scrap and headed for the furnace in The Empire Strikes Back. As a child, I always found the dismemberment of C-3PO intensely upsetting, so I can only imagine how Doctor Who viewers felt about the prospect of losing their favourite comedy robot.

The Armageddon Factor Part One

The one where the TARDIS lands on a planet ravaged by nuclear war...

So, here we are: the Big Finale! The sixth and final adventure in Season 16's epic quest for the Key to Time, and this is also Doctor Who's 500th episode. That's nice serendipity, that the 500th episode falls within the same series as its 100th story (The Stones of Blood), topping off a season which began in Doctor Who's 15th year. So expectations are slightly raised, as there's a lot at stake.

The episode opens with some appalling CSO, some appalling acting and some appalling music, but it soon becomes clear - thank goodness - that this is all on purpose, as we're seeing footage of a TV programme on the planet of Atrios. It looks like a soap opera (it has a soapy score and corny dialogue), probably the Atrian equivalent of Crossroads. I'm not sure if the dialogue is intentionally funny, but it's certainly laced with double entendre: "There is a greater love. Men out there, young men, are dying for it!"

The Power of Kroll Part Four

The one where the Doctor works out why Kroll is so big...

After a tedious reprise going as far back as Rohm-Dutt's death, the episode continues with an anti-climax, as Kroll decides to simply go back to bed (sea bed?) and not terrorise the Doctor and Romana at all. But Kroll does re-emerge elsewhere to terrorise the terrified Swampies, and this time the terrible split-screen effect just gets worse. I thought it had been bad enough so far, but when Kroll attacks the Swampie settlement, the harsh line dividing the screen between the Kroll puppet and the actors on location is embarrassing. It's the best they could do, blah, blah, blah. Yes I know, but their best on this occasion just wasn't good enough!

Meanwhile, at the refinery the technicians are turning on themselves, or rather Fenner and Dugeen are turning on their increasingly megalomaniacal leader. Thawn's thirst for genocide hasn't exactly come out of nowhere - he's made no secret of the fact he thinks little of the Swampies - but his rather steep descent into madness has been signposted less subtly. The truth is that Neil McCarthy isn't equipped to portray a nuanced collapse of this man's sanity, so all we get is a very melodramatic face-off between a man with a gun and a man with a conscience.

The Power of Kroll Part Three

The one where the Doctor saves his life with perfect pitch...

Harg is gone, but I doubt anybody will notice, and he certainly won't be missed, because right from the start he was a one-dimensional character who had "Dead By Part Three" written all over him. And, like the other three technicians, he has about as much personality as a grape. It's really difficult to believe that the great Robert Holmes - the man who gave us Spearhead from Space, The Talons of Weng-Chiang and The Caves of Androzani - is responsible for this tedious dirge. There's no colour in the writing at all, it's all dialogue and no expression. Maybe he was having an off-day (we're all entitled to them) but this really is his worst work since Season 6 (but even lows like The Space Pirates have something to enjoy).

Reflecting the lifeless scripts they're given, the actors playing the refinery staff are equally as morose, especially Philip Madoc, who looks like he's struggling to stay awake through proceedings, even propping himself up against the scenery at one point, and often looking to the floor in despair. Madoc is in such a mood, and you can tell! John Leeson achieves nothing more than mastering the art of twiddling knobs, while Neil McCarthy struggles to convince even himself that this is a good part for him. He has flashes of steel which work (he was always a good bad guy), but there's no escaping the fact the role of Thawn would have been much better in Madoc's hands (or even George Baker's, who pulled out).

The Power of Kroll Part Two

The one where Romana is rescued from being sacrificed to a man in a rubber suit...

Oh. My. God! Just when you think you've got a hold of the fact that the unconvincing pincers mauling Mary Tamm at the end of part 1 are being operated by an actor in a rubber suit, it's revealed that it really is a man in a rubber suit! Rather than the mighty god Kroll come to take away his juicy sacrifice, it's actually Swampie Skart in a pretend monster suit. What a brilliant way to undermine viewers' expectations! What's less brilliant is the fact Romana actually believes it to be a real monster. It probably looked more convincing from the front, as the Doctor says...

It's nice to have Tom Baker and Mary Tamm reunited because they're so good at the witty repartee. They bounce off each other so well. I wouldn't call it a natural screen chemistry (such as Baker had with Elisabeth Sladen), but they were definitely on the same page as actors, and riffed to the same thespian rhythms.

The Power of Kroll Part One

The one where Romana is sacrificed to a giant squid by green savages...

The very first thing you see as The Power of Kroll begins is Philip Madoc looking up for his cue to start the scene. It's easy to miss, but once you see it, you can't miss it, and it's a shame it's there at all because it wouldn't have been much effort to shave that tiny bit off the front in the editing suite to make it smoother. As it is, it's very Acorn Antiques!

Straight away I can get the measure of this story. Even though it's written by the indomitable Robert Holmes, the fact we have middle-aged men striding round post-Star Wars sci-fi sets in what Terry Nation might call "space clothes" and acting very seriously tells me that this is going to be quite laboured stuff. The guest cast are almost universally bland (Grahame Mallard as Harg is especially forgettable), and I can't help thinking that Neil McCarthy - so heartbreakingly good in The Mind of Evil - is terribly miscast here as plummy leader Thawn. The part just doesn't suit him.

The Androids of Tara Part Four

The one where Romana almost becomes Queen of Tara...

I bet Prince Reynart is as disappointed as I am to see Romana back in his cell, after having helped her to escape in part 3. It makes the whole sub-plot of Romana's courageous escape on horseback mere padding, seeing as she ends up back at square one after all. She escaped in order to be captured. Oh, I hate that!

Grendel is never slow to come up with a new plan whenever his last one has been foiled, and now plans to marry Reynart to Romana/ Strella (delete as applicable), then kill Reynart and marry the grieving widow to become Queen's Consort. And then it'll be the Queen who will meet a nasty end, and Grendel will become rightful and lawful heir to the throne of Tara. However, we have to go through a scene in which Reynart rather intuitively tells Romana all this, before we get another scene in which Grendel confirms everything said in the last scene by telling the Archimandrite. Two scenes telling the viewer exactly the same information are not needed, and ends up just being padding (there's a good amount of padding in this story, and episode, too).

The Androids of Tara Part Three

The one where 'Romana' becomes a killing machine...

The only time you'll ever come across the word "suzerainty" is in The Androids of Tara. I had to look it up to make sure the android Romana didn't have a faulty speech circuit and meant to say "sovereignty" instead. She didn't, that is what David Fisher meant her to say, and as with countless other times through my life, Doctor Who has taught me something. I've learnt so much by watching Doctor Who over the years - the legend of King Arthur, Darwinism, music hall, Norse mythology, the list goes on - and this new word is just the latest lesson, and I love it! Isn't it magnificent that a television programme made over 40 years ago can still teach me something?

Anyway, so the Doctor's just smashed Romana/ Strella (delete as applicable) over the head with a sceptre, obviously suspicious that it's actually an android recognising Reynart's suzerainty over her, and not the real First Lady of Tara. It was quite the gamble, because while he was correct (it is an android), the evidence he based his assumption on was pretty vague: he heard a circuit spark! To be honest, that could've been a sparking circuit anywhere in the throne room, it could have been an android courtier, an android Grendel, even an android Archimandrite. So the Doctor was lucky that his hearing was on form otherwise he'd have just murdered a Taran noblewoman/ his own companion (delete as applicable).

The Androids of Tara Part Two

The one where Romana finds she has a Taran twin...

Paul Lavers is very fetching as Farrah, isn't he? Director Michael Hayes had a very astute eye for the right actor in the right part, and youthful, blond Lavers is perfect as the young hero of this swashbuckling adventure. Equally well cast is Peter Jeffrey as the boo-hiss villain, and Simon Lack is suitably restrained and rigid as the slightly pompous Zadek. Lavers may not be the best actor in the story, but he certainly looks splendid.

For most of the episode, the Doctor's ersatz companion is young Farrah, and Lavers and Baker seem to gel well with the repartee. Lavers bounces off Baker beautifully, and I can well see them as an alternative TARDIS team along the lines of Season 21 Turlough.

The Androids of Tara Part One

The one where Romana gets mistaken for an android...

This new adventure - Doctor Who's 101st story - opens with the Doctor slouching on the floor of the TARDIS playing chess with K-9. It feels like chess is a running theme between the Fourth Doctor and his robot dog, but in actual fact The Androids of Tara is only the second (and last) time the two have locked horns over the game. The Doctor really could do with getting a table and chair to sit on though, because lying spread-eagled across the TARDIS floor is somewhat ungainly (although perfectly in keeping with the unpredictability of his reclining choices at the start of his tenure).

Suddenly, out of the blue, dressed in her flowing ivory gown from The Ribos Operation, Romana appears, entering stage left, seemingly out of the TARDIS wall. Where's she been? What's over there to the left of the TARDIS doors, an area we've probably not seen since the early 1960s? Romana lands the TARDIS herself (although I notice that she, like the Doctor, leaves the brakes on, proving that River Song is still the better driver), taking charge in the ongoing quest for the six segments of the Key to Time.

The Stones of Blood Part Four

The one where the Doctor is put on trial by the Megara...

The last thing I expected when I started watching The Stones of Blood was a courtroom drama in space. When the story began, with its covens, sacrificial stones, ravens and mythological references, I didn't expect it all to end on a brightly-lit spaceship with people painted silver and two Tinkerbells fizzing around the bewigged head of the Doctor.

If only the Doctor hadn't broken that seal on the cell door and let the Megara out, much of this tiresome legal drama could be cut out. Sadly, the Doctor did break the seal, so what we get is 20 minutes of rather tedious exchanges between a desperate Doctor (wearing a barrister's wig, for no reason), the smug Vivien, and the two sparkly justice machines. This trial of a Time Lord has none of the scale or gravity of The War Games or Season 23. It's just a couple of quacking fairy lights.

The Stones of Blood Part Three

The one where the Doctor and Romana travel into a theoretical absurdity...

"Run!" urges the Doctor to Amelia as a pulsating Ogri glides toward them. He beckons the way with an outstretched arm, Amelia nods in agreement, and they're off! What a delightful coupling they make, the Doctor and Professor Amelia Rumford having adventures together. Wouldn't it have been fantastic to have Amelia on board as a companion? Years later, the natural synergy of the Doctor with an older female companion was capitalised upon in the Big Finish audios, with Evelyn Smythe, and in the BBC's own Nest Cottage audios with Mrs Wibbsey. Tom Baker seems to gel with older ladies (see also Amelia Ducat and Martha Tyler), but I'd love to see this pairing taken a bit further. Sadly, Beatrix Lehmann didn't have very much longer left on this Earth...

Amelia is fascinated by the Ogri that's chasing them, and suggests they try and capture one in the interests of science (much to the Doctor's frustration). I still find it hard to take the Ogri seriously. The fact they glide along the ground so smoothly merely brings attention to the fact they have no legs. So you immediately start to wonder how they move along, and at one point I was imagining little stony feet popping out of the bottom of them and shuffling along! That's not really how a Doctor Who monster should look (although that didn't stop them designing the Tractators that way).

The Stones of Blood Part Two

The one where the true identity of the Cailleach is revealed...

Both the Doctor and Romana are in pretty dire straits at the start of this episode. The Doctor is unconscious, tied to a stone altar, about to become the latest blood sacrifice to the sacred Cailleach, while Romana is clinging onto a cliff edge for dear life (but managing to keep her jaunty Burberry cap on her head throughout). The Doctor comes round with a jolt ("I hope that knife's been properly sterilised!") and is saved by none other than Amelia Rumford on her bicycle, who frightens the knife-wielding murderers away with her tinkling bell.

In order to locate Romana, the Doctor blows K-9's dog whistle, which amazingly he can hear inside the TARDIS, even though the TARDIS is apparently in a different, separate dimension. Clever whistle! This is the whistle that also distracted Shrievenzales on Ribos, so it's a pretty handy gadget to have, it seems.

The Stones of Blood Part One

The one where the Doctor pushes Romana over a cliff...

The Stones of Blood is Doctor Who's 100th story, and part 1 is the 488th episode. The production team at the time resisted the temptation to observe this landmark by saying it was the Doctor's birthday, complete with birthday cake, which is probably just as well as there's already enough time wasted in the TARDIS bringing Romana up to speed on the quest for the Key to Time. It serves as a handy reminder for the audience I suppose, but it's quite clunkily done.

The episode opens with a gorgeous effects shot of the TARDIS spinning in the vortex, then goes straight into the Key to Time catch-up, then shifts to an introductory scene on Earth inside a stone circle. One of my ambitions in life is to re-edit classic episodes of Doctor Who so that they have pre-credits sequences/ cold opens, as I much prefer these little teasers, or mini-cliffhangers, before the titles. It works well (sometimes) in 21st century Who, and I adore the cold open for Remembrance of the Daleks part 1, so have always wanted to see what old episodes looked like with this structure. In this case, I'd open with the brethren in the stone circle, ending with "Come, oh great one, come! Your time is now!" Cue titles, then go into the spinning TARDIS shot. Wouldn't that be better?

The Pirate Planet Part Four

The one where the real Queen Xanxia reveals herself...

It wasn't the Doctor who fell 1,000ft to his doom last week, it was actually an image of the Doctor projected using a gadget he found in Xanxia's throne room. But if the Doctor we saw giving himself up on the Bridge last week was a projection, how did he manage to hand the dead Polyphase Avatron to the Captain? How could a non-corporeal projection carry a solid metal object? I won't dwell on that too much, I'll let you readers do that...

The discovery of the image projector lets Queen Xanxia's cat out of the bag when the Doctor reveals that the Captain's severe young Nurse is actually the newly regenerated form of the tyrannical ruler of Zanak. The decaying shell in the throne room is merely a husk, and the real Xanxia has been busy projecting a new image of herself - a younger, foxier, sexier image - using the power generated by Zanak's planet-crunching shenanigans. The imagination in this story is astounding.

The Pirate Planet Part Three

The one where K-9 fights a robot parrot, and wins...

"But I don't understand," whimpers Kimus. "Exciting, isn't it?" grins the Doctor, which kind of sums Doctor Who up. I'm really enjoying Douglas Adams' script, which is full of fun and big ideas, just like his magnum opus The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I haven't always appreciated the way the slightly smug team of Tom Baker and Lalla Ward brought Adams' work to the screen in Season 17, but I can't fault the actual writing and creativity at source.

The Doctor tells the somewhat confused Mentiads that every time Zanak consumes another planet, it releases vast waves of energy, including psychic energy, which affects telepaths such as them, and awakens latent telepathic abilities in people like Pralix. The Mentiads are actually the key to defeating the Captain, and they decide to march their way back to the Bridge to have a go at him. This march lasts the entirety of part 3, with the Mentiads, Mula and Romana (in heels) trudging across muddy fields and climbing over rocks. Poor Mary Tamm gets nothing to do. Why she's not by the Doctor's side instead of Kimus I don't know. Adams has got too many characters and not enough for them to do. I mean, when it comes down to it, Mula and Kimus are not needed at all.

The Pirate Planet Part Two

The one where the full horror of Calufrax's fate becomes apparent...

If only Bruce Purchase could retain his performance at the level he gives it at the top of this episode. In the scene where his lackeys are lined up on the Bridge, the Captain prowls around them menacingly, uttering veiled threats into their ears, and he has a suitably intimidating presence because his subtler performance nicely counters his dominant physicality. But then he goes and ruins everything by exploding into a torrent of bluster and shouting, like Brian Blessed on amphetamines. Ah well, it was good while it lasted. Plus, the Polyphase Avatron - the Captain's rubbish robot parrot - kills ubiquitous supporting artist Cy Town, who I must say is looking very handsome this week.

Introduced in this episode is the Captain's mysterious Nurse. She looks quite willowy and weak, but there are intriguing hints that there's more to her than meets the eye. See how much notice Mr Fibuli seems to take of her as well as the Captain, and during the Captain's interrogation of Romana, it's quite clear that the austere Nurse has some form of advisory influence over him. There's steel beneath that feeble exterior. She's one to watch.

The Pirate Planet Part One

The one where the TARDIS lands on a planet that isn't there...

There's some great model work opening this episode, of a township that looks very like Logopolis, and a citadel or castle reminiscent of Peladon. It's a shame the models have been shot on video rather than film, giving them a 'This is a Model' look, but there's no denying the detail and the care that's gone into them. That's true of a lot of the model work from this era actually. It's probably more reliable than most other aspects of production!

The lift afforded by the brief glimpse of models is reversed as soon as we meet the Captain, played with head-splitting bluster by Bruce Purchase. From the very outset, I immediately dislike this character and the way it's being played. I also acknowledge that this is a kids' show - during the Graham Williams era more than most - and children would probably love having a lumbering semi-robotic pirate captain who shouts and roars his way through dialogue like a pantomime villain. But it just isn't for me, I prefer my villains to have more than one dimension, not to be just a shouty monster. As soon as the Captain used the word "nincompoop", I was gone.

The Ribos Operation Part Four

The one where the Doctor blows the bad guy to smithereens...

The dog whistle that the Doctor has perfected for K-9 Mark II also seems effective in summoning Shrievenzales, but not - oddly - K-9 himself. The whistle is used twice in this episode to attract the unconvincing lizard creatures, and on both occasions K-9 stays put and does not heed the call. Maybe the Doctor can whistle different notes? Or maybe it's just a neat little convenience? Either way, it means we see slightly more of those ridiculous monsters with their floppy claws and lumbering gait, and which look like nothing more than men in rubber suits rolling around on the floor.

Thankfully, there's more scenes between Binro and Unstoffe to cheer me up. Those two together are lovely. Timothy Bateson is obviously a seasoned professional who, despite affecting a country bumpkin accent, manages not to send up the part one iota. Nigel Plaskitt was much less experienced as an actor, and actually ended up specialising as a puppeteer, but is so gentle, warm and convincing here that you'd think he'd been going for years. He is so good with Bateson. The scene where Binro says that just knowing he was right about the stars and the planets is heart-breaking. "It's worth a life."

The Ribos Operation Part Three

The one where Binro was right...

It all goes a bit panto at the start of this episode, principally due to Tom Baker sending the whole thing up while those around him keep it straight. He ruins it really, with his childish mugging and attempts to improvise which fall flat. It's a shame Baker felt the need to do things like this, because it invariably doesn't work, especially as the rest of the cast aren't joining in with his game.

It's a rocky start to what becomes a cracking episode though, and that includes a great improvement in the way Tom plays it. After the initial tomfoolery, he settles back down into a semblance of the Fourth Doctor recognisable from earlier seasons, who uses levity to gain the trust of others, but has steel when he means business. The scenes with Iain Cuthbertson's Garron, in which he pumps the scoundrel for information about both his own background and the Graff's, are nicely played, and Tom employs the tempered grit we know of old to keep both a bewildered Romana and a loquacious Garron in check until he learns what he needs to.

The Ribos Operation Part Two

The one where the Graff agrees to buy Ribos...

This episode is very much Iain Cuthbertson's, and he's so good in it, thriving on Robert Holmes's juicy dialogue and revelling in the limelight by turning in a memorably vivid performance. Holmes loved his chancers, charmers and wheeler-dealers (see also: Milo Clancy, Sabalom Glitz, Stotz, Henry Gordon Jago), and Garron is indeed a garrulous rogue who runs rings round his unsuspecting adversaries. His plan - the Ribos Operation of the title - is a risky but ingenious ruse to cheat the Graff Vynda-K out of millions of gold opeks, and then do a runner. It just so happens the Doctor and Romana are circling this grand scheme, almost incidentally.

Our heroes take a back seat to Holmes's fascination with his own creations, Garron and the Graff, and it means the Doctor and Romana remain pretty passive throughout the episode, listening, learning, but little else. Garron and Unstoffe are the stars of this show, and the Graff is second attraction.

The Ribos Operation Part One

The one where the Doctor is given a new quest and a new companion...

The TARDIS is back! When I say back, I mean back as in looking more like it should: spacious, clean and impressive, not the shabby, cramped travesty of Season 15. It's nice to see some care taken over the TARDIS set (by Ken Ledsham), and this is probably the best it's looked since its sporadic appearances in Season 13, three years earlier!

Some things haven't changed all that much though, such as Tom Baker's capricious approach to the role, including the tiresome "comedy" scenes with K-9 which probably entertained the younger viewers no end at the time, but come across as somewhat childish to older viewers. The Doctor wants to take K-9 on holiday to the idyllic Halergan 3, but fate has other ideas. That holiday is destined never to take place, as a mysterious force seems to take over the TARDIS, plunging it into darkness and opening its doors to beckon the Doctor outside. The lighting in this scene is gorgeous, care of Jimmy Purdie, one of the BBC's most experienced lighting designers who worked a lot on sitcoms and light entertainment shows, but who achieved wonders in both this Doctor Who story, and his only other (Image of the Fendahl).

The Invasion of Time Part Six

The one where Leela and K-9 decide to stay behind on Gallifrey...

Two minutes in to the sixth episode, Sontaran Commander Stor finally takes off his mask... and, as suspected, it wasn't worth the wait. The mask is an ill-fitting travesty of previous Sontaran masks, it isn't even attached to Derek Deadman's face around the eyes or nose. Coupled with Deadman's painfully poor performance (his delivery is slow, rasping and leaden), the whole Sontaran experience is disappointing. Deadman might be right for the part in that he is short and stout, but other than that, the guy just can't act. This is the sort of actor more accustomed to roles such as "Man at telephone box", "Knicker snatcher" and "Second porter". Playing a potato-headed Doctor Who monster might not be up there with Hamlet or King Lear, but Deadman does not have the talent required to play a convincing villain in a rubber mask. Kevin Lindsay did. Derek Deadman does not.

He can't even put his helmet on correctly, plonking it on his head skew-whiff in a moment that made me burst with laughter. Derek Deadman's Stor is a laughing stock.

The Invasion of Time Part Five

The one where the Doctor becomes the first President of Gallifrey since Rassilon to hold the Great Key - and then gives it to an alien savage...

The Sontarans have invaded Gallifrey! What a corking plot twist that is. I mean, it could have been a more likely race of monster, like the Daleks or Cybermen, but the Sontarans will do, I suppose. This is the first time the Sontarans have been shown in force, as The Time Warrior only had one (Linx) and The Sontaran Experiment just two (and one was on a screen). Unfortunately, these Sontarans are led by Cockney Stor, who speaks in fits and starts as if he's constipated. Stor is certainly no Linx, and actor Derek Deadman is definitely no Kevin Lindsay!

I like the musical theme Dudley Simpson has for the Sontarans though, a deep parping signature reminiscent of the one Malcolm Clarke comes up with for the Cybermen in Earthshock.