Perhaps more so than any other era of Doctor Who, the McCoy era splits fandom down the middle, and arguably no single story is as divisive as ‘Delta and the Bannermen’. Notorious for featuring comedian Ken Dodd, whom some fans see as the worst excess of John Nathan-Turner’s obsession with casting people from the world of light entertainment, ‘Delta and the Bannermen’ combines green babies, the Welsh, bees and rock and roll; it is also, if the viewer is in the right mood, really quite good fun.

There is a great sense of joy de vivre in ‘Delta and the Bannermen’. Partly, this is because the story doesn’t take itself too seriously, presenting us as it does with toll booths for time travellers, and aliens who holiday in locations such as America during the rock ‘n’ roll nineteen fifties, but who get stranded in Wales by accident. We have a pair of inept American secret service agents who are looking for a lost satellite and briefly mistake Gavrok’s ship for it, since they don’t actually know what a satellite looks like, and we have a bounty hunter whose death reduces him to nothing but a pair of blue suede shoes. This is all very tongue in cheek, and the breaking of the usual conventions of Doctor Who by the fact that everyone seems able to travel in time (The Bannermen and the Navarinos) adds further to the feeling that writer Malcolm Kohll is quite simply doing his best to have fun and not worrying unduly about how atypical his story actually feels as a result. This is a story in which an old man seemingly communicates with his bees and in which a young man who eats Chimeron food turns into an alien prince. It almost has a fairy tale quality to it in places. There is also the fact that the Navarinos go on holiday in time and space in an old bus, which on one level adds greatly to the spirit of things, and on another may be a wry nod to the limitations of the series budget; the BBC might not be able to knock together a convincing spaceship, but an old bus is no problem.

Another great strength of ‘Delta and the Bannermen’ is the character interaction. Refreshingly, this is a story in which nearly everybody the Doctor and Mel meet save for the Bannermen themselves gives their utmost to try and help Delta. What is particularly interesting is the love triangle between Delta, Billy and Ray; confounding audience expectations, this leads not to the jealously and betrayal that one might expect in Doctor Who, but instead follows a different route. Ray response to seeing Billy with Delta is to cry, and the Doctor comforts her. It would trivialize such an issue to say that she gets over it, but she manages to deal with it and continues to help Delta and Billy, and at the end, whilst she loses the man she loves, she does at least get his Vincent. Which isn’t exactly a happy ending as such, but it is a relatively positive outcome. Equally, Delta benefits; with the Bannermen destroyed and Billy transformed into a Chimeron, it is suggested that she can repopulate her planet (incidentally, I’d normally dismiss this as bollocks, but Kohll hints throughout at the insect like nature of the Chimerons, suggesting that one colossal bout of sex later, a green Welshman and his girlfriend might well repopulate a planet. Which is actually quite a scary thought). As for what Billy gets, well his motivation is obvious, but however much he may be driven by lust, he still risks life, limb and humanity to be with Delta.

Of course, Billy and Ray aren’t the only people who help Delta. The bemused agents Hawk and Weismuller, played with perfect bewilderment by Morgan Deare and Stubby Kaye, respectively, also pitch in to help after the Doctor and Ray remove the bonds the Bannermen put them in, with Weismuller getting his revenge at the end as he ties the Bannermen up. Hugh Lloyd’s slightly mysterious Goronwy happily allows the Bannermen to shoot his house to pieces as they wander into the Doctor’s trap, and sits patiently reading a book as he waits for the Bannermen to be defeated as they attack the camp. Richard Davies’ stoic Burton also provides considerable help simply because he thinks it’s the right thing to do, in the process saving Mel’s life. Burton is actually one of the greatest characters in the story, a cheerfully determined man whose response to seeing inside the TARDIS is to ask to go for a spin, his earlier skepticism about aliens quickly forgotten. A scene in Episode Three perhaps best sums up his character, when he swipes at the air with an old sword and steadfastly prepares for the arrival of heavily harmed nutters. Even camp attendant Vinnie wants to stay and help “Major” Burton, who sends him away for his own safety.

Ultimately, all of this characterisation works so well, because the cast give it their all. In particular, Sara Griffiths is great as Ray, who in retrospect I wish had stayed on as replacement for Mel, instead of the replacement that we actually got (much, much more on that in later reviews…). Ray bonds well with the Doctor, and this results in some great moments not only for Griffiths, but also for McCoy. There are some nice scenes in Episode One, as the Doctor is forced not to deal with alien aggressors, but with a heartbroken teenager and tries his best despite his obvious discomfort. When Billy sings to Delta, and this hurts Ray, she dances with the Doctor instead, who looks decidedly uncomfortable, but obliges anyway. He later comforts her, again awkwardly, with the great malapropism “there’s many a slap twixt the cup and the lap”, which is rather more amusing than virtually all of his malapropisms from ‘Time and the Rani’. In those moments, McCoy’s performance finally seems absolutely perfect for the first time in Season Twenty-Four.

Indeed, McCoy is very good here. When the Doctor sits hugging Billy’s Stratocaster, he gloomily notes, “love has never been known for its rationality” and McCoy makes him sound genuinely melancholy about this, as though hinting at things in the Time Lord’s past that we’ve simply never seen before. Equally, McCoy does well with his lines at the end of Episode Two, as Gavrok sits and gnaws at his meat and the Doctor stands and threatens Gavrok with the legal consequences of his actions. McCoy delivers his lines with an air of massive contempt, which works very well, and whilst he is notorious for his inability to portray anger properly, he manages to get real fury into his “Life? What do you know about life?” line. The script helps him enormously of course; this is story in which a rather proactive Doctor single handedly saves the Navarino bus via the TARDIS and later replaces Murray’s Quarb crystal twice. He sets out to save Delta from the Bannermen as soon as he realises that they are in trouble, and defeats his enemy with bees and honey. Bonnie Langford too does well here, in possibly her best Doctor Who television story; she’s far less cloying than in ‘Paradise Towers’, and like McCoy genuinely seems to be having fun. As usual, Mel’s instinct is to help people, and it is this that allows her to gain Delta’s trust. But Langford also gets to portray shock and horror as Gavrok destroys the Nostalgia Tours bus and its passengers, and she conveys it very well.

Whilst I’m on the subject of acting and characterisation, it is worth noting that the much-maligned Ken Dodd is actually OK here, although admittedly he is just playing himself. Nonetheless, this is pretty much the only Doctor Who story in which he wouldn’t actually seem out of place, and whilst I wouldn’t describe his casting as inspired, it by no means deserves the controversy that it has gained. Don Henderson on the other hand is very well cast. The Discontinuity Guide asks the question “But who told Don Henderson to play it so straight?” which I feel slightly misses the point. ‘Delta and the Bannermen’ works in large part because despite the sense of fun it also features some serious issues. The biggest flaw in the story is that we don’t know why the Bannermen, and Gavrok in particular, want the Chimerons dead; we never learn if they are mercenaries, soldiers, or criminals on the run. But despite this shortcoming, Gavrok works as a villain because he is presented as a real threat. Whatever his motivation, he wants Delta dead and has no qualms about killing anyone who gets in his way; he shoots the Tollmaster in the back, he slaughters the Navarinos because he thinks Delta is on the bus, and above all he has proved himself willing to commit genocide. The point of all of this is that were Henderson to send the part up, the whole feel of the story might so easily cross the line into farce. A real threat is needed to give the other characters something to pull together against, and Gavrok provides it, even cutting off the Doctor’s escape route by booby-trapping the TARDIS. Were ‘Delta and the Bannermen’ possessed of a villainous performance as over the top as Kate O’Mara’s in ‘Time and the Rani’ or Richard Briers’ in ‘Paradise Towers’, it simply wouldn’t work. And in keeping with the spirit of the story, it feels entirely appropriate that Gavrok is ultimately hoist by his own petard.

Overall then, ‘Delta and the Bannermen’ is, for me at least, far better than its reputation suggests. It benefits a lot from the extensive location filming, as Doctor Who usually does when it can be bothered to climb out a quarry, and the peaceful Welsh scenery surrounding Shangri La looks fantastic. It’s also nice to hear some real rock n’ roll on the soundtrack, although it is rather less nice to hear Keff McCulloch. This is arguably his best score for the series up until this point, but please understand that choosing Keff McCulloch’s best incidental score for Doctor Who is rather like choosing the least smelly turd. Unpleasantly, he ropes in his girlfriend’s ghastly group to give us the saccharine cack “Here’s to the Future”. McCulloch aside though, the only other real let down of the production is the two lacklustre explosions and frankly they just aren’t enough to spoil the fun.

Next: the final audio interlude before ‘Survival’, as I nip over to the BF board for ‘The Fires of Vulcan’, then back here for the rest of the McCoy television stories!

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.

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.

Direction and writing in Doctor Who are two elements which rarely come together; we either get a well directed story with poor writing (Earthshock) or a well written story with bad direction, which is the case here. Vengeance on Varos is almost ruined by Ron Jones' absolutely flareless direction. A lot of people will nominate Peter Moffatt for the title of Worst Who Director, but in truth he occasionally was capable of something approaching atmosphere (State of Decay is an admittedly inconsistent example of this). Jones, on the other hand, never rises to a challenge, and he succeeds in sucking the life out of a highly interesting script, with, perhaps incredibly, some well judged edits by Eric Saward.

The most potent example of this is the first scene between Arak and Etta. Never mind that Etta looks about thirty years older than her supposed husband; the really jarring thing about this moment is how slowly it seems to pass. And it isn't anything to do with leaden dialogue- it's because Ron Jones directs the scene unadventurously, a long wide shot of the two arguing. I was sorely tempted to turn it off.

But to do so would mean missing an otherwise fantastic story. The writing, by Phillip Martin, is excellent. He manages to give almost all of the major characters a clear identity. We sympathise with the weary Governor; and we are reviled by the reptilian Sil. Equally, the issues it tackles, most prominently video nasties, are fascinating, particularly so when you look at how creatively and intellectually bereft most of it's Season 22 stablemates are. Occasionally the structure wobbles, but this is largely due to the fact that the series had changed to a slower paced 45 minute format. Is it violent? For a Doctor Who story, yes, but the furore at the time surrounding it was misjudged, as it is farely tame by today's standards. Plus, at least it is provocative, and not a dull Underworld style runaround.

And at least on the acting front, Ron Jones got something right, by casting disabled performer Nabil Shaban as Sil. The remarkable design of the character has something to do with the success of Varos and Shaban imbues him with some truly vile habits, like his hugely grating laugh. The rest of the cast is variable, as usual; Martin Jarvis is excellent, Jason Connery less so in the important role of Jondar, which would have been a hard slog for most actors anyway. Colin Baker really takes control, however, and in some respects we see him acting, rather than simply hamming it up. The scenes in which he feigns death are a case in point. From a production stance, it is competent but not visually resplendent; few stories set in an underground mining colony could be.

Logopolis was my introduction into the greater mythos of the Doctor Who phenomenon. It was not the first story I watched (that was Planet of Evil), which is a statement that needs to be elaborated on to give the context within which I write this review. 

I had been watching Doctor Who for about five years when Logopolis was broadcast by my local PBS station. At the time, with no internet and no local fan club to get information from, every episode was a new adventure. I still spent every week hoping that the famous multi-coloured scarf would somehow return to replace the burgundy version. At this point, I had seen most stories from Terror of the Zygons onward, but had absolutely no idea that the Doctor was going to be (or ever had been) played by someone other than Tom Baker. You can imagine what a shock the end of part 4 brought to me....

Almost everyone here knows the story, so I won’t do a summary. Logopolis seemed in many respects to start slowly. The Doctor and Adric wandering the TARDIS corridors, some annoying stewardess stumbling along with a flat tire, the knowledge that the Doctor would probably meet the stewardess, and the confirmation at the cliffhanger that behind everything, the Master really had escaped from Traken and was stalking the Doctor. Oh, and who the heck was the Watcher in white?!

These are the feelings that part 1 left me with.

As the middle parts progressed, the excellent story of revenge and the search for power leading to the potential destruction of the universe if Logopolis failed, took over. The viewer could not help but notice the general sense of dread that pervaded the story, getting more and more pronounced as it got closer to the end. By the cliffhanger of part 3, it was readily apparent that the situation facing the Doctor is one that even he might not be able to take care of.

Part 4 had a lot of running around, which, seemed to only be there to take up time. All events lead us to the tower, with the Doctor’s desperate attempt to cut off the Master’s signal to the CVE. As I, for the first time, watched the Doctor hanging from the tower, his past flashing before his (and my) eyes, the realization hit me for the first time: this isn’t your usual ending – the Doctor is going to loose, even if he wins....

Naturally, what happened next gave me a whole new perspective on the show. Regeneration: I would have to wait until next week to see what it meant for the hero. Anticipation was mixed with dread at the loss of a familiar face.

Viewed now, as a whole, the story still impresses. Acting by most of the cast (Mr. Watterhouse and Ms Fielding excepted) was good and Tom Baker clearly was off the slapstick comedy routine of the prior few seasons. The new menace of a rejuvenated Master, still fresh enough that the “evil chuckling” was not annoying added to the story in my opinion. Logopolis was and is one of the very best Doctor Who had to offer.

Let’s hope the new series has a long and successful run. If the stories even come close to the quality of Logopolis, we should be in for a heck of a revival.