There was an unfortunate tendency during the Barry Letts era to end each season with a six-part story (or in the case of 'The Dжmons', a five part story) that is in my opinion dire. The only exception to this trend is 'The Green Death' and even that story is not the strongest of its season. Phillip Hinchcliffe reversed this trend by producing two classic six parts stories in the shapes of 'The Seeds of Doom' and the sublime 'The Talons of Weng-Chiang', and whilst 'The Invasion of Time' is by no means perfect, it is considerably better than at least two other stories from Graham Williams' first season of Doctor Who. It is unfortunate then that Williams inadvertently (I hope) resurrects this unfortunate trend of Lett's tenure for the finale of Season Sixteen. For the finale of a generally strong season with a story arc that runs from beginning to end, it is crucial to produce a satisfying denouncement; instead, we are forced to endure 'The Armageddon Factor', a story that remains my least favourite story of Tom Baker's entire run. It is also disappointing that this story is so dire since it is the last broadcast six-part Doctor Who story, given that 'Shada' would have an unfortunate rendezvous with fate (I don't count 'The Two Doctors', since it is structured and broadcast as three fifty minutes episodes). 

'The Armageddon Factor' starts badly and gets progressively worse. I noted when I reviewed 'The Ribos Operation' and prior to that 'Carnival of Monsters' that it is difficult to portray a convincing alien world given the time and budgetary limitations of a typical Doctor Who story, and Bob Baker and Dave Martin utterly fail in this task. Atrios and Zeos are, we are told, two neighbouring planets at war, but as far as the viewer is concerned they might as well be two small rooms at war. There are no references to cities, let alone continents, and when characters do mention other areas of Atrios they refer, ludicrously, to levels and blocks, which conjure up images of large buildings at best. The social set up on Atrios is equally facile, with complete power resting in the hands of a single nutter, with Princess Astra, who is clearly only a figurehead, being the only other important person in evidence. The situation on Zeos is even worse, with the uninteresting computer Mentalis the sole representative of the planet on display. There are very vague implications that the other Zeons are extinct and that everything, including presumably the fleet, is computer controlled, but this is never fully explored and again contributes to the feeling of neighbouring buildings at war. 

As if this wasn't bad enough, the Atrian military on display consists of the Marshall and Major Shapp. John Woodvine is a fine actor, but the lines provided for the Marshall are diabolical and the character is totally one-dimensional. Cast as a puppet for the Shadow, he lacks any motivation or personality beyond that and the only hint we get of his character is that he is a bully and a coward, as suggested by his escape ship and his visible baulking at the announcement that handing him over will result in peace. Even this is inconsistent, since once relatively free from the Shadow's control (he is invited to make what he will of the lack of further attacks from Zeos), he personally launches a devastating nuclear attack on Zeos with supposedly enough ordnance to blow up the entire planet. This must surely be a risky venture, but he seems more than happy to undertake it. As for Shapp, I can barely bring myself to contemplate the heinous slapstick buffoonery of Davyd Harris, who sends up his role in unsubtle style throughout despite the would-be seriousness of the story's premise. The only other time I've ever had the misfortune to witness Harris' "acting" is in the Blake's 7 episode 'Moloch', in which he is equally as bad as Doran, leading me to conclude that he somehow ended up in the wrong profession, possibly for a bet. 

Even if I were prepared to excuse the paucity of the plot, the fact remains that it is intensely uninteresting. The lack of decent characters means that I simply don't give a toss whether or not the fires of war engulf Atrios and Zeos. Having said that, the Shadow at one point claims that if he gets the Key to Time, the situation on Atrios and Zeos will be but a preview of the fate of the entire universe, suggesting that the Black Guardian intends to use it to spread bad acting and tedium throughout the cosmos, which is a genuinely scary concept. Even Lalla Ward, who I generally like a great deal, struggles with the character of Princess Astra, again due to leaden scripting and bland expository dialogue. How Romana fails to realize that the Princess is under the control of the Shadow in Episode Five is beyond me, given that she is virtually rolling her eyes and cackling in an evil way throughout, which explains why the Doctor just assumes that Romana has guessed. Other than that, all Astra does is wring her hands a lot and look anguished, until Episode Six where she goes all glassy eyed as she realises that she is in fact a lump of Perspex. Mind you, if I had a boyfriend as pathetic as Merak, I'd be a miserable bastard too. 

With all of this in mind, it is astounding that the characterisation could sink to new depths, but the unpleasant introduction of irritating cockney gobshite Drax proves that it can. Presumably intended as comic relief, he instead just makes me want to cry with unhappiness at how bad the story is getting, although he does at least make Shapp seem amusing by comparison. Robert Holmes is often credited with demystifying the Time Lords, but Baker and Martin are far guiltier, both here and in 'The Three Doctors'. And speaking of old Baker and Martin plots, they are also sufficiently lacking in good ideas that they recycle the dimensional stabilizer subplot from 'The Invisible Enemy'; I should perhaps be grateful that when the Doctor and Drax restore themselves to normal size in Episode Six, the Shadow doesn't suddenly find himself beset by unexpected giant prawns as well. 

The villains of the piece slightly redeem matters. The Shadow is literally a personification of evil, and as such as shallow as a bedpan, but William Squire delivers his "bwa-ha-ha!" dialogue rather well and the Shadow's weird half-mask looks quite good, even if it is slightly undermined by his polo neck knitwear. The cliffhanger ending to Episode Four, as the Shadow sits and gloats to himself, would have been a lot stupider than it already is were it not for the sinister tones Squire employs and the fact that he seems to take his role seriously, thus becoming the Anti-Harris. Valantine Dyall's performance as the Black Guardian just tops Squire's, but I'll discuss the story's denouement - and the Guardian - below.

The regulars struggle bravely with the script. Baker alternates between gravitas and wit, and manages to bring some weight to the doom-laden plot. Were the story written better, this might have been one of the Fourth Doctor's finest hours, as he saves two planets in the nick of time and outwits the ultimate manifestation of evil in the Doctor Who universe, but as the story is bobbins this is a moot point. What the story does manage is some nice character moments between the Doctor, Romana and K9, for example when Romana desperately tells the Doctor "It doesn't matter what happens to me" as the Shadow blackmails him, and the appalled Doctor replies "Well of course it does!" showing just how close they've become since 'The Ribos Operation'. His affection for K9 is also in evidence; his risky rescue trip into a furnace shows more than just concern for a computer and he's clearly saddened when K9 falls under the Shadow's control. I also like the fact that he realises this because K9 calls him "Doctor" instead of "Master" (incidentally, would anyone else like to see a Past Doctor Adventure set around this era in which the Master builds himself an evil robot dog that calls him "Doctor"? No? Oh well, just me then). Having said all that, the scene in which K9 is told to lie to the Shadow and clears his throat before doing so is immensely annoying and undermines the already flimsy tension surrounding the Shadow's near victory. Some finds apparently find this amusing, but by the time I've sat through five and half episodes of this drivel my sense of humour is badly eroded. It is also a fairly low-key departure for Mary Tamm, whose off-camera regeneration into Lalla Ward at the start of 'Destiny of the Daleks' means that this is the last we see of her. Sadly, she again spends much of the time either standing around whilst the Doctor explains the plot, or alternately explaining the plot to Merak and Princess Astra.

Which brings us to the climax of both 'The Armageddon Factor' and also the Key to Time storyline. Having paced their story so badly that they have to resort to Shapp and Merak knowledgably discussing both the Key to Time and the TARDIS for the sake of exposition and hoping that nobody will notice, Baker and Martin hand over the finale to Douglas Adams for a notorious final scene in the TARDIS as the Doctor prepares to hand the Key over to the Guardian. I'm probably going to surprise some people at this point by saying that I actually like this scene. The reason for this boils down to the simple fact that Adams' sense of humour just happens to appeal to me and the sight of Baker's eye-rolling and gurning as he deliberately alarms Romana amuses me far more than anything else seen in this story. The actual ending is often described as anti-climatic, but since handing over the Key to Time to the White Guardian would probably be equally anti-climatic, I'm happy to defend it. The confrontation between the Doctor and the Black Guardian is another example in the series of the Doctor standing up to a god-like being for the sake of the universe at large, and I personally think it works quite well, thanks in part to Dyall's expertise at portraying the Guardian's impotent fury. The question of whether the White Guardian is actually able to restore the balance of the universe as discussed in 'The Ribos Operation' goes largely unanswered, although the Doctor does tell Romana that he should have had time to do this whilst the Key is assembled. Which in turn raises the question of why the Black Guardian couldn't also have used it to cause trouble whilst it was assembled. And then there's the question of why the White Guardian can hijack the TARDIS in 'The Ribos Operation', but the Black Guardian can't do the same thing here. But by this point, I'm just glad that I don't have to watch anymore of 'The Armageddon Factor' and therefore I don't care.

‘Logopolis’ sets out to achieve a great deal. It has to reintroduce the Master, finish establishing Nyssa as a new companion, introduce another new companion, and write out Tom Baker after a mammoth seven-year stint as the Doctor. With these criteria and some fascinating science fiction concepts it has all the makings of a classic, but despite all that it is a massive disappointment.

‘Logopolis’ benefits from two interesting concepts, which are the Watcher and Block Transfer Computation. The Watcher, despite being conceptually similar to Cho-je from ‘Planet of the Spiders’, adds a new spin to regeneration for the Doctor and serves as an ominous omen throughout of the Doctor’s fate at the climax. The reason I feel that the Watcher works so well is that, unlike Cho-je, he is an unformed, amorphous figure, which provides more of an air of mystery than cameos from Peter Davison throughout the story would have done. To emphasize the mystery surrounding him, he has no lines, his conversations with the Doctor, Adric and Nyssa taking place out of shot, and no explanation is offered for how he comes to be in the first place. His eventual role in the Doctor’s regeneration tells us all we really need to know about him, and for the less intelligent audience members, the production team kindly deign to bolt on a line from Nyssa (“He was the Doctor all along!”) to state the bleeding obvious. 

The idea of Block Transfer Computation, and the role of Logopolis in the scheme of the universe, is also fascinating. Despite strangely persistent fan rumours that Christopher H. Bidmead brought hard scientific concepts to Doctor Who, it’s pure pseudo science, but rather like dimensional transcendentalism it is handled in such a way that it works very well. The revelation that the Logopolitans are responsible for maintaining the integrity of the universe by forestalling entropy with their mathematics makes for a novel plot device, and the subsequent disruption of their work and the ensuing entropy field means that for his final story Baker’s Doctor gets to face a suitably awesome threat to the entire cosmos, giving a certain extra weight to the proceedings and lending a considerable sense of desperation to the final episode. Sadly, despite these two intriguing plot elements, ‘Logopolis’ is also saddled with a considerably amount of rubbish.

It is almost inconceivable that a story with as much to achieve as ‘Logopolis’ could feel padded, and yet the first two episodes are woefully dull. Very little actually happens; the Doctor and Adric spend two episodes wandering about whilst the Master lurks unseen in the background, before realizing that he’s hiding in the TARDIS and conceiving one of the stupidest plot developments in the entire series to try and get rid of him, before the Watcher eventual has a word with the Doctor and tells him to stop prevaricating and bugger off to Logopolis. The Doctor’s plan to flush out the Master is so ludicrous that it beggars belief; all it could possibly do is ruin all of the Doctor’s stuff, since the Master could just close the doors of his own TARDIS and therefore not have to worry about the fact that the supposedly colossal TARDIS interior has just drained the Thames… On top of this we have the tedious and ultimately pointless “gravity bubble” sub-plot in Episode One which goes nowhere and interests nobody, all of which adds up to padding. There is some dialogue in Episodes One and Two that introduces the concepts of Block Transfer Computation and Logopolis, but two episodes of twaddle are not justified by such a small amount of plot exposition. 

Of course, what the first two episodes of ‘Logopolis’ do achieve is to introduce Tegan. The way in which Tegan joins the TARDIS crew recalls the introduction of Ian and Barbara way back in the series’ beginning, as she stumbles on board and becomes a reluctant traveler desperate to return home. As such, her characterisation and Janet Fielding’s performance are both realistic, as Tegan, already stressed by the problems she has faced in getting to her new job on time, eventually gives in to panic when she gets lost in the TARDIS corridors, eventually bursting into tears in the Cloisters in Episode Two. In a nod to another early companion, in this case Vicki, she later discovers that the villain of the piece has murdered one of her loved ones, and as a result she gets a more convincing characterisation as she bursts into tears when the Doctor reveals Aunt Vanessa’s fate. The trouble with this is, I’m not wild about sitting through four episodes of grief stricken hysteria, and Tegan, despite being convincingly realized and well acted, rapidly becomes annoying rather than sympathetic. This only serves to heighten my negative attitude towards ‘Logopolis’, although at least by the latter half of the story Tegan’s potential as a companion starts to be realized as she demonstrates strength of character by challenging the Monitor and standing up to the Master, and proving brave and resourceful when necessary. 

The other companions are already established, and Adric is used well here again, although his impressive loyalty to and concern for the Doctor are increasingly undermined by Matthew Waterhouse’s limited supply of facial expressions. Nyssa on the other hand is largely superfluous; whilst I like the way that her quiet, gentle character contrasts with Tegan’s stroppier, boisterous nature, she does little here except remind us that the Master is a complete bastard. Unfortunately, the death of Aunt Vanessa serves this purpose more than adequately, and the fact that Nyssa’s reaction to the death of her father and the subsequent eradication of her entire world is far less well scripted than Tegan’s reaction to her Aunt’s murder, doesn’t help to make Nyssa seem especially useful to the plot. I will however defend Sarah Sutton’s oft-criticized performance; as Douglas Adams considered in The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the destruction of one’s entire planet is almost certainly too big a thing for anyone to grasp. Nevertheless, when Nyssa flatly states that the Master has killed her step-mother, her father, and wiped out her entire world, Sutton’s supposedly “wooden” performance actually conveys a great deal of suppressed emotion and is worth a mention. 

So far then, ‘Logopolis’ is not scoring particularly highly. Before I discuss the two most significant characters in the story however, I’ll just comment on the overall production and also the guest cast. Unlike ‘The Keeper of Traken’, it benefits from location work, which always benefits the series, but like its immediate predecessor, the actual studio sets look horribly cheap. Having said that, it is to the story’s credit that the sets used for Logopolis do match closely the model shot of the city, even if both look like they’re made of polystyrene (which they probably are). However, it’s churlish to criticize Doctor Who’s budgetary limitations, and the sets are adequate enough, without resorting too much to the use of CSO. The incidental score is generally rather good too, adding to the ominous atmosphere of impending doom, and the direction whilst unremarkable is solid. ‘Logopolis’ also benefits from a fine performance from John Fraser as the Monitor, who is likeable enough to make the character’s friendship with and concern for the Doctor entirely believable, and who is also capable of looking convincingly worried and angst-ridden when the story calls for it. Dolore Whiteman is rather likeable as Aunt Vanessa, and the character’s obvious closeness with Tegan adds weight to the tragedy of her murder, which is basically the character’s sole function. There aren’t really many other supporting characters of note; the policemen in Episodes One and Two are pure clichйs, and the Logopolitans and Security Guards in later episodes are of course extras. 

The most memorable guest star in ‘Logopolis’ is of course Anthony Ainley as the Master. After his restrained performance as the anagrammatically unfortunate Tremas in ‘The Keeper of Traken’, here he gets to play for the first time one of the series’ most enduring villains. He’s really quite good for the most part; in Episodes Three and Four he recalls some of Roger Delgado’s charm as he manipulates Nyssa by cruelly pretending to be her father, but the callous edge he displays on occasion is a constant reminder that he is thoroughly villainous. In fact, the Master’s ruthlessness and disregard for life is emphasized here in a way that it never was during the Pertwee era, thanks largely to his murdering of Tegan’s aunt and Nyssa’s father. And yet, it isn’t just his beard and propensity to reducing people to shrunken corpses (something he only previously did in the Robert Holmes’ scripted ‘Terror of the Autons’ and ‘The Deadly Assassin’) that provides a link to the past; in Episode Four, when he and the Doctor are forced to collaborate, their ability to work together, often seen during the Pertwee era, is brought to light once again, as is the Master’s seeming need to impress the Doctor. As with the Pertwee era, the Master’s seemingly genuine grudging admiration for the Doctor is barely reciprocated; whilst the Doctor is impressed by the Master’s idea to use their TARDIS to try and halt the entropy field, his attitude to the Master is one of quiet loathing. This is significant, because it marks a turning point in their old rivalry; whereas in the past the remnants of their old friendship motivated the Doctor to visit his rival in prison (admittedly partly to get his hands on his TARDIS) and beg Kronos to spare him, by this point he seems to have had more than enough of the trail of misery and carnage that the Master has left in his wake since ‘The Deadly Assassin’. This is essential given the Master’s impact on the lives of Tegan and Nyssa, and even more so in light of the danger to the entire universe that he unleashes here. In summary, the Doctor’s slight tolerance towards the Master has long since evaporated, as will be demonstrated further during the Davison era. 

Unfortunately, for all that Ainley’s performance here is quite good, the actual story starts to erode the Master’s credibility as a villain. Renowned for going over the top, Ainley starts down that path due to the cringe worthy chuckles that denote the Master’s presence throughout the first two episodes, reducing him to the status of some malevolent auditory Cheshire Cat. The character’s credibility takes a far greater blow however at the end of the story; the Master’s plan to hold the universe to ransom is almost absurd as the Doctor’s plan to flush him out of the TARDIS. Justify the Master’s spur of the moment gambit all you want, but he still sends a message to the universe on a small hand-held tape recorder, in English. How long would it take to reach a significant number of the “peoples of the universe”? How many would actually receive it, and how many of those would pay it any heed? It’s absolute gibberish. To compound this character assassination even further, the Master becomes, during this moment, a generic nutter; he doesn’t demonstrate charm or cunning, he just grins maniacally at the camera and delivers lines that would make Joseph Furst wince whilst the Doctor looks on appalled and points out that he’s mad. The Completely Useless Encyclopedia described the Master as “nuttier than squirrel shit” and it is here that this really starts to become true. His old motivations (power, survival, and his eternal game of one-upmanship with the Doctor) will remain throughout the remainder of the series’ television run, but from ‘Logopolis’ onwards his actual plans become increasingly ludicrous. 

And finally, in many senses, there is Tom Baker. Throughout Season Eighteen I’ve praised his performance as the Doctor and ‘Logopolis’ is no exception, whatever its other faults. The funereal atmosphere often ascribed to the story is largely down to Baker, and he bows out in style. It is clear from his first meeting with the Watcher that the Doctor knows what is to come, and it is reflected in his downbeat mood throughout. The Doctor’s reaction to the Master is superbly realized; appalled by his enemy’s crimes, he exudes contempt for the Master throughout. Baker shows this superbly, the expression on his face as the Doctor and the Master shake hands being a perfect example. His solemnity when the Doctor tells Tegan of her aunt’s death is also memorable, but what really stands out about ‘Logopolis’ is the way in which the Doctor is clearly prepared to stop at nothing to save the universe, ultimately sacrificing his fourth life in the process. His final line, “It’s the end, but the moment has been prepared for” marks the end of an era, as my favourite Doctor departs after a lengthy tenure that includes some of my favourite Doctor Who stories. ‘Logopolis’ is not a story worthy of being Baker’s swansong, but it has some redeeming features, and for all its faults it gives him a memorable exit as one of the most distinctive regeneration scenes transforms him into Peter Davison…

The Talons of Weng-Chiang is long and tedious, but worse, it’s racist nonsense. 

It has style, but that’s all – aside from that, it’s full of clichй and devoid of meaning. I watched this recently after many years, and while I probably considered it a “classic,” or at least decent Doctor Who when I was younger, seeing it again as an adult lowers it in my estimation quite a bit. 

Episode One: the Doctor is attacked, and describes the Chinese attacker as a “little man.” The crafty, villainous Li H’sen Chang is portrayed by John Bennett in makeup because, of course, English men play Chinese men better than Chinese men do. 

Episode Two: the charming, harmless Professor Litefoot describes the Chinese as an “odd sort of people,” and interstellar traveller the Doctor fails to point out that another culture is only odd from an English perspective – that to the Chinese, the English are probably “odd.” Robert Holmes, in his interest to give the Doctor a role that pays tribute to Sherlock Holmes, seems to have forgotten that the Doctor would have something other than an English perspective. He even has the Doctor somewhat coldly hope that “that girl Leela” (as though he hasn’t known her for long) is unharmed. It’s as through the Doctor is replaced with another Doctor, just for this one story (until of course he starts babbling in episode five about World War Six and “double nexus particles,” then suddenly he’s a Timelord again). The villain, Magnus Greel, also has a character that jerks wildly around, as he’s incapable of walking in one scene, then leaping like a mountain goat to escape the Doctor at the theatre in the scenes that pay tribute to Phantom of the Opera. 

Episode Three: Litefoot wonders what the world is coming to when ruffians will attack a man in his own home. “Well, they were Chinese ruffians,” the Doctor replies. We’re constantly told about “those Chinese,” and the “devils.” And along the way, treated to multiple, long, pointless scenes where Greel dismisses and demeans Chang, or when a supporting character like Jago tries again to be charming. At the end of episode four, given how little we’d learned and how long it had taken to learn it, I felt disappointed to know I’d have to sit through another two episodes. The end picks up a little, when we (finally) get to some bullets and laser beams and an appropriately exciting finale, but all the Chinese henchmen are slaughtered like so much cattle, and any excitement is too little too late anyway. 

I’m missing the point, you say. It’s all in good fun, you say. You’re not supposed to pick apart a story as fantastic as this – it’s the Doctor Who tribute to Saturday morning serials combined with Sherlock Holmes and Phantom, and whatever else. And yes, Chang has a few knowing winks to the camera, where he jokes “one of us is yellow,” or “I understand we all look the same.” Trouble is, these aren’t actually coming from a Chinese actor, but an English one, written by an English writer, and so again the perspective in wholly English. 

In fact, the English are the best at everything: it’s “impossible” for the professor’s gun to fail, when it was “made in Birmingham.” In any other story, and amusing throwaway line, but here it’s English superiority in a story that strikes these notes constantly, intentionally or not. A dying Chang reveals that he was to perform for the Queen at Buckingham palace, something that he clearly saw as a penultimate achievement. And while Jago and Litefoot represent the two English classes, fighting side by side against the “alien” threat, the Chinese characters are unsophisticated cannon fodder, or in the case of Chang, someone who appeared more sophisticated, but finally wasn’t. Jago and Litefoot and also written in a way that attempts to sell them off as charming, while Chang is dry and humourless, and ultimately gullible. 

Doctor Who fans, apparently thrilled to actually see a little style in the show, are keen to overlook its glaring faults. But when you add the racist elements to the Muppet rat, and the little dummy the Doctor throws around at the end, and all you have is an embarrassment. It’s time fans admitted it. Or at least, for goodness sakes, acknowledged it.

Leisure Hive was the first episode of Tom Baker's last season. It featured several important new things including a new fiberglass Police Box, a new K9, and a new theme and graphics. It was also the first use of new computer based effects that were, by 1980 standards, fairly state of the art. It was a brave new era for Doctor Who and David Fisher's script was chosen as the introductory story.

There are a lot of good things about this story and a few really bad things. Unfortunately the bad things are the first five minutes of episode one and the last five minutes of episode four. It's off to a bad start with Romana and K9 walking along the beach. In a silly fit Romana throws a beach ball into the water and orders K9 to fetch. With K9's advanced brain you'd think he'd know that water and electronics don't mix but ZAP, he's down for the count. Certainly there could have been better ways to write him out for the story than making him and Romana look stupid. The conclusion is also way to fast and none of the characters even pause to accept the sudden revelations that take place. The villain is transferred to a child and the Argolian leader's body is regenerated to her youthful self and not one character is even phased by that.

There are lots of good things in between however. Lovett Bickford's directing pace is very good and it's a very steady and the story never slows down. With David Fisher's writing being so tight you could almost argue that this is a real time story. Things are happening so fast that the characters never pause to just watch the world go by or wait for things to happen. Another good thing about this story is the design of the Leisure Hive and the Argolians. They are both dressed very sharply with bright primary colors that give the story a very comic book look.

Despite the bad opening and closing the entire story is a good start to a new era of the series and the end of Baker's time on the show. Even though Baker was starting to look a bit tired of the role the Doctor's reactions in this story link quite well with the events in Logopolis. Perhaps the moment had been prepared for for quite some time.

Ah, the Leisure Hive! Such a terrible story, but what a cool, brilliant new look!

Of all the times to get a colour television for the first time, it was in 1981 on the same day as the new season of doctor who would start, specifically the Leisure Hive. And what a difference!! Gone was the time vortex introduction from the past seven years (for me), to be replaced by a stunning new space intro; marvellous colour special effects, the Doctor's new all red costume, his (comparatively) grimmer persona (most welcome!) and that so bizarre in doctor who gravity-free badmington (or whatever) game. And all this in episode one. Doctor Who had gone from base metal into gold!

But, cool new look aside, what a diabolical plot. Twenty five minutes of utter incomprehension every week, for a month. What the hell was going on? Nowadays, seeing it all in one go on video, it makes a lot more sense and the book version by David Fisher is not only clearer but filled with much needed humour to water down the pretension, but at the time the weekly episodes were just so much unintelligable gobbledegook as to make even the most die-hard DW fan blanch every saturday evening. Thank God for Meglos next month.

I mean, what was the deal with the Fomasi? Kept off the screen for episodes 1 and 2, my mind was filled with the image of a fantastic monster. And what did we finally get? A humpty dumpty with green scales! And by the time I knew just what the West Lodge were supposed to be doing, they had been wrapped up (literally) by the good Fomasi!

But its not all bad. I like the characters: Brock, the silent Klout, the grim Hardin....and the Argolin at least look good even if they don't make much impression. And Tom Baker, thanks be, had at last played his role a lot less for laughs. Long may he continue....oh, yeah, Logopolis. D'oh!

A previous reviewer has commented that this story has a poor reputation. Close. It has a dreadful reputation based on the humour of the time, the creature and a general tiredness with Tom Bakers portrayal of the main lead role.

As for me, I love this story, it is terrific. The plot is simple, it is extremely well shot, the jungle scenes are second only to Planet of Evil in the history of the show for me and the pace of the story never flags. The sets are also superb.

Creature from the Pit is an interesting study in the abuse of power. It is obviously in the interests of Chloris to enter into a reciprocal trading a agreement with Tythonus however if Chloris did this then Adrasta loses her power base and her wealth. Simple economics, simple supply and demand. In order to prevent this from happening she has the Tythonian Ambassador dumped down a pit where he cannot escape and then, curiously the Ambassador becomes an even more potent weapon for her to re-inforce her reign as the threat of being thrown into the pit for the slightest transgression hangs ever over the head of the subjects of Chloris. In effect it is an interesting paradox that the one thing that could bring an economic and personal freedom to the people of Chloris becomes a very useful tool of its enslaver.

Chloris is a rarity in Doctor Who, being a planet that is dominated by women with two very strong female leads and I have to say why not. In nature the female is often the strongest of the sexes however we go from planet to planet where the male holds the upper hand. It does not make sense. Here that is rectified. I agree that more could have been done with the Chlorisian society to develop and explain it however David Fisher does go someway towards addressing that in the book.

Adrasta is well realised by Myra Frances (married to Peter Egan - Ever Decreasing Circles) although some of her dialogue is delivered in a rather, shall we say, wooden manner. Karela is suitably played by Eileen Way and, God, when I first watched this I hated her with a passion. The scene where K-9 destroys her metal and thus destroys her power is wonderful.

Erato is a great concept. Why should all creatures by humanoid bipeds. Just as the Ogri were a great break with this tradition so was Erato and quite frankly for me it works. Had it been done today with the technology available no doubt it would have been a CGI effect villain and would have been very realistic. In 1979 that technology was not available, it is like judging Pertwee stories on poor CSO. It makes no sense. Willing suspension of disbelief I believe the term is. Again the book does develop the Tythonians and their society more than the TV does and is certainly worth reading if you like this story.

I see little point in dwelling on the bandits. Edward Kelsey and co have little to work with. They are nothing but cliched outlaws and are merely there for a mixture of comic relief and plot resolution. Although they do not detract from the story they do not add to it either.

I have to say I also found Adrasta, as a young 14 year old at the time, very very very sexy. Repeat viewings with the passing of age has not dimished that either. Karela, not so.

The Doc and Romana are on cracking form. Romana trying to outbitch the queen bitch, Adrasta, and coming off a poor second is great as is Romanas wonderful put downs of the bandits where she treats them with little more than scant regard. The Doc and Organon have a wonderful relationship full of sparkling dialogue which really does make the story memorable. Organon is little more than a fortune teller, a lucky one whose luck ran out and he was chucked in the pit for his trouble and managed to survive. Played by Geoffrey Bayldon, a man many thought would make a great Doctor, with aplomb his characterisation draws heavily on his early seventies hit, Catweazle.

I must admit I found the premise that as an act of revenge Tythonus would send a Neutron star across the galaxy to obliterate Chloris. This is where the willing suspension of disbelief Graham Williams was fond of talking about comes in. Ignore the physics and just enjoy. Just like the scene with the cricket ball in Four to Doomsday it does not detract from the story overall.

So to summarise, this is a terrific story and shows, like City of Death and Androids of Tara, that when the humorous approach is done well then it can offer a story as good as any other from any other era. I would rate this story as highly as Inferno, Daemons, Ark in Space and Pyramids of Mars. All favourites of mine. Doctor Who has a place for all styles and all genres. Creature from the Pit is most welcome in that.