Daleks in Manhattan

No other show in the history of television does "utterly barmy" quite like Doctor Who - and pull it off. Were it any other programme, the disperate elements of Daleks in Manhattan would seem like the silliest thing in the world. And that's just the title.

Straight off, we're back in the good old Reithian tradition of 1960s Who, disguising subtle history lessons for all as popularist science fiction. Before this episode, I had never heard of Hooverville or really thought about the Empire State Building being built at the same time as the Depression. Well, you learn a little something everyday, don't you?

The Cult of Skaro, having escaped the battle of Canary Wharf at the end of the last series, are back and desperate for survival. Daleks are at their best when they are cunning, devious and ruthless, and once again we are back in the pre-Davros 1960s when they were just that. Even though the title was a dead giveaway, I still got butterflies when the first one came up in the lift. If that happens to a life long fan, then you they're doing something right down there at BBC Wales.

This instalment was barmy indeed. It was Doctor Who meets Chicago, complete with song and dance number, which I would hedge my bets will be released on the next Murray Gold album. Pig men, Daleks, songs, art deco and yet more in a long history of stupid people helping the Daleks. The supporting cast were great, despite the odd lapse in their American accents, particularly Amanda Raison as Tallulah ("three T's and an H") and Ric Griffin from Holby City (so that's what he did on his sabbatical away from the hospital).

The one word that sums up this episode for me is Fun. Fun, Fun, Fun, with a capital F. If the standard remains this high, Series Three of Doctor Who may well turn out to be the best of New Who yet.

Can't wait for next week.