The main conceit around which ‘Carnival of Monsters’ is built, that of a ‘human ant farm,’ is enough to fill anyone with apprehension. Plots about shrinking are traditionally more the stuff of fantasy than science fiction – they’ve occasionally been handled well in things like Richard Matheson’s ‘The Shrinking Man’ and ‘Fantastic Voyage,’ yes, but given the inherent limitations of the Doctor Who format (and the tendency towards facetiousness in the previous two stories), we can’t be blamed for approaching ‘Carnival of Monsters’ expecting twee-ness and forced whimsy. And when the first moments of this story present us with a) vaguely Munchkin-like aliens with an absurd dialect, b) a second plot featuring setting and characters that seem to have been copped from ‘Anything Goes,’ and c) a character whose costume is even worse than Colin Baker’s . . . well, as the Minorians themselves might say, one is not encouraged.

But happily, Robert Holmes’s script quickly evaporates any such fears; ‘Carnival of Monsters’ is a brilliant story, full of humor, and yet taking its sillier components just seriously enough to make them work. The approach is satirical without sacrificing the integrity of the ‘straight’ sci-fi approach. The Minorians are obviously fussy bureaucrats, but Holmes fleshes out their society just enough to keep them from being too jokey - the class struggles with the Functionaries, the paranoia about ‘contamination,’ and their strange dependence on the pronoun ‘one’ all combine to distinguish them as a genuine alien culture with its own unique quirks. And the MiniScope (with its ignorant huckster proprietors) is an obvious dig at pop culture on the whole and television in particular, and yet it’s handled with surprising realism and good taste.

In terms of the production aesthetics, the story is a mini-masterpiece (no pun intended); a great example of Doctor Who overcoming its budget constraints. The sets and cast are small, but effective. The Drashigs, as noted many times, are rather surprisingly believable and horrifying monsters. The springing one at the end of episode two is simply fantastic – obviously a puppet, but very lifelike, especially when it suddenly whips its head around to locate its prey. And speaking of the cliffhangers, every one here is a great one – a rare thing indeed for this series!

As for the cast, the familiar faces and voices are a little distracting (Peter Halliday, Harry Sullivan and Davros, all in the same story!), but that’s always part of the fun of Doctor Who anyway. Leslie Dwyer, despite his ridiculous wig, false mustache, and costume that seems to be made partially of candy, is believable and likeable as one of Holmes’s classic charlatan characters. Robert Holmes obviously had great affection for con men and show people, and Vorg is one of his best ‘flawed, but fun’ creations. Michael Wisher is simultaneously comic and sinister as the Shakespeare-esque usurping brother – his dry delivery of the witty lines (and great facial expressions) make the character memorable (and his demise satisfying). Peter Halliday is pompous but sympathetic as Pletrac, Tenniel Evans’s Major is amusingly characterized, and Cheryl Hall and Jenny McCracken turn their smaller roles into ones to remember. (The moment when Claire *nearly* recalls what has happened to them is especially charming.)

And Jon Pertwee is in top form here. This is the mature Third Doctor at his best – vain and condescending to everyone around him (the moment when he tells the Minorians to stop calling him ‘the creature’ is classic), righteously indignant with Vorg when comparing the Miniscope to zoos, but also playful with Jo, vigorous and manly when boxing with Andrews, genteel when reacting to the carnival ‘palare,’ and of course driven by curiosity – possibly the Doctor’s most dominant trait throughout the show’s history. Katy Manning isn’t the star of this story, it’s true, but her performance is also an important part of its overall success.

All in all, ‘Carnival of Monsters’ is a real triumph of the era; if only all Doctor Who stories stood up this well . . . .

For me, The Green Death is not only one of the best UNIT stories, but one of the best Doctor Who stories ever. It has so many elements in it that contribute to its richly-deserved status as a classic.

Having said that, I'll start by talking you through the story's detractions. The camera-work during the "boating through the maggots" sequence is a little shoddy, with the principal characters and foreground so obviously cut into other shots that the sequence becomes completely unbelievable. Similar problems are encountered when the Doctor and Sgt. Benson attack the maggots. However, Doctor Who was never about superb effects, but about the story.

And so that's where I shall move on to. It is, unfortunately, one of those Doctor Who stories, like The Tomb of the Cybermen and The Caves of Androzani, that has a blatantly obvious moral. Now, don't get me wrong. One of the best things about Doctor Who is its moral undertones. It tries, and often succeeds, to teach us important lessons and principles. But it really grates with me when the moral undertones become,... well, moral overtones, so obvious are they. There are also some important story issues. For example, when the maggot in the Nuthutch is found dead- next to Professor Jones' special fungus, which it has been eating- the Doctor fails to make the connection between the fungus being fatal to the maggots, and the fungus being the basis of a vaccine against the maggots. It's an almost unforgivable scripting error in the sometimes almost omniscient Doctor.

But, I must now go on to my reasons for liking it so much. The minor characters are fleshed out so well that they become really entertaining in their own right. A particular favourite of mine is the BOSS. To hear it humming along merrily is lovely;it is really heartening that the scriptwriters and actors take the time to give the extras real personalities of their own. Stevens is also a refreshing new take on the "unwitting-pawn-controlled-by-a-higher-intelligence" theme. To have a character who can both be completely dominated by the computer, and also remind him to get back on track when he is busy eulogising is refreshing, and his sacrifice at the end is moving: not least because the Doctor accepts that it is something that Stevens has to do to cleanse his conscience. His nod of thank you to Stevens brings out the best in Pertwee's Doctor.

The Doctor also feels somewhat rejuvenated in The Green Death. He is now leaping from cranes, running away from armed guards in sealed compounds, and scrambling through mineshafts. This "action man" feel to the Doctor helps to keep the story ticking along, and also makes him stand out from Professor Jones. If the Doctor was just a thinking Doctor, he would be the same as Professor Jones; but his extra energy gives him an edge over Professor Jones, as well as making his sadness at Jo's departure more profound, because of this juxtaposition.

So, over all, an excellent yarn. Complex characters and an all-action Doctor more than make up for some minor filming quibbles. First class.

‘The Green Death’ is the famous story with the maggots, of course. In fact, I always used to laugh at pictures on the VHS box – this story has giant maggots, and they decide to use a still of the Doctor talking on the *telephone*? 

Well, the giant maggots are just fantastic – for all the differing opinions, I find them as realistic as practically any monster in Who history – but the story as a whole is a classic mixed bag of good and bad. The narrative itself isn’t anything more than a run-of-the-mill 1970s parable of ecological horror, about on a par with 1972’s ‘Frogs’ in terms of sophistication. The Doctor’s trip to Metebelis 3 in episode one is a silly, overlong piece of padding (albeit a briefly scary one, when that shocking tentacle hits the Doctor). The direction is meant to be clever (cutting from one character to another as they speak the same line, e.g.), but it actually seems rather corny and forced. And the giant dragonfly belongs in a children’s play.

But for every bad thing, there’s also something good. Lovely performances are turned in by Talfryn Thomas, Roy Evans, Tony Adams and Nicholas Courtney. (Is there a more iconic image of the Pertwee years than the Doctor and the Brigadier riding shoulder to shoulder in Bessie?) Jerome Willis is low-key as Stevens, but he really opens up when he takes his revenge on his BOSS in the strangely poignant climax. Speaking of which, the BOSS is a common or garden-variety HAL-esque mad computer, but its reliance on withering taunts (and its obvious amusement at its own jokes) distinguish it from other pretenders. And ‘Nuthutch’ is an inspired name for the Wholeweal Community HQ – we get the sense Jones has pluckily taken a variant of ‘nut hatch’ to thumb his nose at his movement’s detractors.

But the most interesting thing about ‘The Green Death’ isn’t maggots, or pollution, or sinister corporate conspiracies, or glowing green corpses. Instead, it’s the kind of sad psychodrama that hangs around the edges of the story – that of the Third Doctor saying goodbye to Jo Grant. Many fans have criticized the suggestion of romantic love in the new Doctor Who series (and in the Paul McGann movie before it) - but some have argued that other Doctors have loved other companions before, however tacitly. And ‘The Green Death’s’ presentation of the Doctor and Jo is a convincing example.

Indulge me for a moment. From the beginning of the story, we see the Doctor looking at Jo in a light other than the traditional adventurer/companion one. He asks her to come with him to Metebelis 3, and he does so with an air of it being a ‘getaway’ for them both. When she refuses, he says in that case he’ll take her wherever she wishes to go – an unusual break in character for this self-absorbed Time Lord. When she argues with him, he comes as close to flirting as he ever does, mimicking her and getting her to laugh. 

Ultimately, she tells him that she chooses instead to join Professor Jones, whom she describes as “a sort of younger you” (this description turns out to be fairly apt, considering the impatience and neglect with which Jones treats her throughout the story). The Doctor accepts this, but not terribly gracefully – he snaps at the Brigadier when asked for help (“I wouldn’t advise you to try!”), and we can’t help feeling he’s out to prove something when picking a fight with Global Chemicals security in episode two (“I’m quite spry for my age”). Actually, a subtext about age and aging runs throughout the story (Jones not being recognized because of his youth, and “the fledgling flies the coop” are other examples) – very unusual for Doctor Who.

Of course, none of this is overstated, but it does skim along just beneath the surface, and the quiet, subtle way in which the matter is resolved makes it all the more affecting. As for the actors, Katy Manning overdoes the klutziness a bit in episode one, but as the story goes on she settles in, and Pertwee is in magnificent form (I love his genuinely aghast “Good grief!” when he sees the maggots). But perhaps the performance that makes it all work is Stewart Bevan’s as Jones himself. As I mentioned, he treats Jo in rather callous (and Doctorish) ways throughout this story, and yet Bevan’s choice to play him as a smart but goofy Welsh kid is a good one, and ultimately endears the character to us. How easy it would have been for him to fail here – for which viewer would choose anyone over the Doctor? But Bevan is so playful in the role, and his affection for Jo seems so genuine, that in the end we are happy with her choice. You could say that Clifford Jones the character is conceived as a combination of the best parts of the Doctor and Jo, and Bevan pulls it off very well indeed.

All in all, a strange story, probably worth more than the sum of its parts.

The Green Death is certainly one of the Doctor Who stories most strongly remembered by the general public. The maggots are a deeply ingrained image in the public psyche, though whether that is a positive association for Doctor Who as a brand is a matter for debate. The story is also highly regarded amongst fans and was a popular choice for release on DVD. The title outsells the rest of the ‘classic’ Doctor Who range by virtue of its crossing the fan/collector barrier and appealing to the broader market. Outselling such heavyweights as ‘Talons of Weng Chiang’ and ‘Ghostlight’.

Why is it such a popular story? It is a strong representation of early seventies Who, having all the essential ingredients present; Pertwee, Manning, UNIT, beasties and Bessie. The one element of the era that is missing is the Master; Roger Delgado tragically died days before the last episode of this story was broadcast. The script is tightly plotted and leaves little room for the serial to drag. The characterisation of the regulars is strong, and the roles of Cliff Jones, Stevens and, of course, BOSS stand out as well defined parts amongst a dramatis personae of bland stereotypes and comedy welsh accents (with the exception of Talfryn Thomas' real accent).

Robert Sloman certainly had his finger on the pulse when he concocted this eco thriller which plays on the paranoia and suspicion of large multinational companies and their unscrupulous practices. Such paranoia might have seemed a new idea in 1973 but is still all too depressingly familiar to we ethical consumers of the 21st century. The flip side of that is that the Green Death is just as relevant today as it was thirty years ago; a fact that bolsters its continued popularity. Doctor Who tackling relevant issues? It’s not a new idea. That the story also manages to make proper use of a six episode format is another feather in its overcrowded cap.

The production values are good, the show looks smart and the effects are great – right up until the dismal CSO of episode X. The overambitious showdown between the Doctor and Benton and a bazillion biohazard maggots is like a steel gauntlet pulled straight from the freezer crushing my heart into a sticky red paste. The failure of this sequence is all the more sad due to the success of the effects and the design throughout the rest of the serial. The Nuthatch, the Mine, Global Chemicals and especially the BOSS control room (cannibalised from Gerry Anderson cast offs) are convincing sets and the location work is excellent. The stock footage of mine machinery blends in well and lends credibility to the show. The maggots themselves are a simple design but very effective. The first few sightings of them are genuinely creepy.

Katy Manning has something to do other than look pretty in this story. She falls in love (though it’s difficult to believe the marriage was long-lived), she develops a social conscience and she gets to treat the Doctor badly. All whilst modelling some great hippy-chic outfits thought Jo Grants idea of evening wear might send a shiver down the servos of Trin-e and Zu-Zana. Pertwee is magnificent; clearly relishing the opportunities to dress up and use different accents. Not to mention the way he plays the Doctors reaction to Jo’s development. The look on his face when he finds Jo and Cliff in a clinch is fantastic. His final scenes – especially when he downs his drink and leaves during the toast – are beautifully performed. Jo Grant is right off his Christmas list. The UNIT crew are present and correct and get some decent screen time, probably for the last time until 1989’s ‘Battlefield’.

Jerome Willis gives a good turn as the unflappable front man for Global Chemicals machinations. His ultimate sacrifice does undermine his evil Captain Peacock a little though. Stuart Bevan is great, though Cliff Jones is a bit of a ponce. The scenes between him and Katy Manning work very well – though they should certainly have had a good rapport seeing as they were a couple at the time. John Dearth as the maniacal, humming, singing and if it had legs dancing computer BOSS is a treat. The confrontation between BOSS and the Doctor is particularly striking and well played on both sides. The insane, arrogant computer is as truly frightening as it is oxymoronic.

In many ways The Green Death is the last great Pertwee story. It was around here at the end of season ten with Katy Manning leaving and Roger Delgado passed away, Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks talking about moving on that Jon Pertwee decided it was time to let someone else have all the fun. 

Why is the Green Death so popular? It is a great success as a piece of science-fiction drama, and everyone involved in the production is playing at the peak of their ability. The only black mark on the whole scorecard is some bad CSO. It’s spectacularly bad CSO but even so compare that to some other stories; stories that dream of just having bad CSO.

"Frontier in Space" is a high point from my favorite era of the show. While I adore the UNIT scenario, it is wonderful that the Third Doctor’s exile to Earth ended, freeing him to have adventures such as this. This story is far from perfect, but accentuates the strengths of the Time Lord’s third incarnation and casts some interesting light on this entire period in the show’s history.

Doctor Who didn’t attempt a sprawling space opera that often (only "The Dalek Master Plan" leaps to mind). There are many stories set in the future or on board space ships, but few serials present such an epic canvas which the characters are seen to cross: no "star map" of the Earth/Draconian Empires has ever been published by merchandisers, but none is needed: the script, dialogue, and production provide just enough for the viewer to visualize the rest of the landscape in the mind’s eye. Yes, there are several instances of obvious padding but even some of the repetitive escape/capture/escape/recapture sequences lend a feeling of a story happening on a vast scale.

Malcolm Hulke’s script is quite good. There are occasional moments of embarrassing dialogue (The Doctor referring to Jo as a "perishing panda" and his anecdote concerning mind probes are best forgotten; as are, indeed, the very cliche of "mind probes"), but these are rare gaffes. Far better are the sequences on the lunar penal colony (The scenes between the Doctor and the other prisoners there are full of great character moments, and the Doctor’s exchange with Cross is very memorable. "Doctor: (after Cross confiscates another prisoner’s chocolate bar): That’s stealing, you know. Cross: That’s what I’m in for ... Got a troublemaker, have we? Doctor: That’s what I’m in for." In fact, watching this serial now, it is interesting to note how it anticipates the opening episodes of Terry Nation’s Blake’s 7 in many ways.

The Draconians are a well-realized alien race: the scenes in their embassy on Earth and their home world suggest a well-thought out society, with plenty of room for further exploration. This, coupled with the excellent costume design, makes one wonder why they never featured in Doctor Who again. The Master is strangely comical in this outing: reading H.G. Wells and mocking everyone from the Doctor to the Daleks with equal scorn. It’s well played by Roger Delgado but perhaps the Master could have been written in a slightly more sinister vein. This is a minor complaint, however, and Delgado’s swan song is very entertaining, nonetheless.

The Doctor is fascinating here; this incarnation is justifiably linked to UNIT in the minds of so many people, but it is always interesting to see him operating without the organization to fall back on. It is easy to forget that, whereas UNIT depends upon the Doctor, in the UNIT stories the Doctor himself also depends on UNIT for support and/or rescue. Without them, he and Jo are refreshingly on their own, depending upon their wits and whatever allies they can find to escape and win another day. Pertwee’s Doctor is not only the stylish moral crusader, but one of the most physically active incarnations of the character, engaging in hand-to-hand combat with Earth soldiers, Draconians, and the Master, undertaking several space walks to repair and or escape from assorted space vessels, and so on throughout the tale. Storylines are obviously tailored for whatever Doctor is incumbent at the time, but it is interesting to ponder how well Doctors would have fare if placed in some of their counterpart’s serials.

As for Jo Grant... Hmmm. I am partial to Liz Shaw, myself, but Jo doesn’t come off too badly in this story. She resists the Master’s hypnotic effects and diverts attention from one of the Doctor’s escape plans (for a while, at least), proving herself far more capable than I have considered her in the past. In Episode One, she even deduces that the Daleks might be in command of the Ogrons, only to be shot down by the Doctor’s contention that Ogrons have many employers. All right, the Master was guiding the Ogrons, but the Daleks were ultimately involved as well! Perhaps it’s time for me to re-evaluate Jo Grant?

Perhaps the only disappointing feature for me is the final sequence. It provides the cliffhanger lead-in to "Planet of the Daleks" well enough, but, in a piece of poor (one might even say bizarre) editing, the Master simply disappears! He shoots the Doctor one moment, and then the Ogrons flee, leaving Jo to help the wounded Doctor into the TARDIS. In an eyeblink, the Master is nowhere to be seen! Where did he go, and why? This always puzzled me, and, coming right at the end of the story, it closes out the tale on a slightly unsatisfactory note. Nevertheless, director Paul Bernard does a fine job otherwise, and "Frontier In Space" remains, for me, one of the greatest successes of the Pertwee era.

I'd venture to suggest that 'The Three Doctors' is worse than in its immediate predecessor, except that I might get lynched; certainly, I find 'The Time Monster' easier to sit through. I was going to start by describing what I like about this story, but I couldn't really think of anything. So I'll start with the least negative thing I can think of.

The interaction between the different incarnations of the Doctor is of course the main selling point of 'The Three Doctors'. It is unfortunate that William Hartnell was in such poor health by this time that he has a very minor role, appearing only on the TARDIS scanner. I'm certainly not churlish enough to criticize Hartnell for being terminally ill, and I'm glad that he got the opportunity to play a role in a story celebrating the anniversary of the series the success of which he was instrumental in establishing. Whilst Hartnell's health means that the First Doctor is a mere shadow of his former self, there are brief glimpses of the indomitable old character from his era, and this is probably my favourite aspect of 'The Three Doctors'.

The other two Doctors however, are rather less entertaining than they should be. Troughton seems incapable of putting in a bad performance, so I suspect the problems with his performance here stem from the script, which reduce his Doctor to a caricature. Try and recall the Doctor who appeared in 'The Evil of the Daleks', 'The Tomb of the Cybermen', 'The Seeds of Death', or 'The War Games' and compare him with the Second Doctor here; the Second Doctor's fierce intelligence and palpable sense of urgency during times of danger are played down here so that his clown-like characteristics can be brought to the fore. Possibly Baker and Martin feel the need to pigeonhole him into the description ascribed to him by the First Doctor in their script, but the result is a Second Doctor who is in most ways watered down, and in one or two others grossly exaggerated. His constant prattling about his recorder annoys me just as much as it annoys Omega. 

Unfortunately, Pertwee isn't much better here either. As in 'The Time Monster', he seems to be on autopilot, and for the second story in a row this results in a threat to the entire universe being woefully underplayed. A good example is during the Third Doctor's scenes with Omega before his previous incarnation turns up; presumably, the Doctor is both humouring Omega and also suffering slightly from the fact that he is overawed at meeting a legend. Sadly, Pertwee fails to convey this and instead the Doctor just gives the impression that he's wondering when Omega will get around to offering him a cup of tea. As with 'The Time Monster', compare this with the Doctor's sense of urgency in 'The Dæmons', which despite being another story of which I'm none to fond, does demonstrate how well Pertwee can portray urgency and a sense of impending doom. The actual interaction between the Doctors has some merit, but personally I only find it interesting when they are cooperating; the bickering between the Second and Third Doctors seems to give Troughton and Pertwee their cue to start hamming their parts up. 

So that's the Doctor's out of the way; let's move onto the villain. Omega is potentially a rather sympathetic villain, who is clearly shown by the script to have been driven insane by millennia of solitude. In practice however, he's an over-the-top pantomime villain, thanks to Stephen Thorne's painfully unsubtle performance. Especially cringe-worthy is his bellowing cry of "Whaaaaaaat?!" when he discovers that the Doctors have escaped. When Omega is in jovial mood, Thorne sounds as though he's reading his lines for the first time and has had time to practice. When he's angry, he just sounds melodramatic without actually being convincing. I noticed on this occasion in particular just how stagy the scenes set in Omega's palace actually are, due partly to the sets (the rather tacky walls contrast unpleasantly with a bare studio floor), and the fact that Thorne gives the impression throughout that he is concentrating very hard on spotting his next cue. 

Then we have the Time Lords. There are two ways to demystify the all-powerful Time Lords first seen in 'The War Games'. The first is to present them as a thoroughly corrupt race of politicians as Robert Holmes does later in 'The Deadly Assassin'. The second is to have them portrayed by wooden actors spouting stilted dialogue in a day-glow nightmare of a set. Roy Purcell is especially dire as the President. And there's very little else to say about them.

What of the other regulars? Katy Manning is as good as ever, but Jo is present purely so that the presence of two Doctors can be explained in very laboured fashion. She does very little else here. She also plays a role in another cringe-worthy moment, after the Doctors have conjured up a door in the cell in Omega's palace. Again demonstrating the complete lack of anything approaching dramatic tension in this story, she and Benton are the last to leave after the Doctors and Tyler. Rather than rushing quickly out of their prison, they laugh about the others having all the fun and jog casually through the door. Nice to know they aren't worried about the prospect of universal Armageddon then… Benton is generally OK here, and I'm extremely grateful that with all the rubbish present here we are spared the addition of Mike Yates. However, Benton gets another terrible moment, in the TARDIS in episode one; the Second Doctor appears, the two Doctors start arguing and trying to explain the situation to Jo. Benton remains silent for a couple of minutes and then suddenly exclaims "Doctor! Where did you spring from?", as he greets the Second Doctor. This is again an example of bad scripting and sloppy direction, as it rather makes it appear that he has been waiting for his cue and has missed it because he hasn't been paying attention. And then there's the Brigadier…

By 'The Three Doctors' the Brigadier's character has reached an all time low. The intelligent military leader of Season Seven is long gone and has been replaced by an imbecile. The exaggerated coziness of the "UNIT family" has become so absurd here that Lethbridge-Stewart is reduced to a comic foil. Benton, one of the Brigadier's subordinates, has no problem understanding the events taking place around him, accepting two Doctors and the transportation of UNIT headquarters with ease. The Brigadier on the other hand understands nothing, presumably because Baker and Martin mistakenly think that this makes for a witty time for the viewer. In short, the Brigadier seems far less intelligent than his sergeant, which cheapens his character enormously. He's also lost the considerable air of authority that he once had, now seeming petulant rather than commanding when he orders Benton to search for Tyler for example. 

I've mentioned this briefly already, but the script is diabolical. It is almost inconceivable that a story a mere four episodes long and featuring three Doctors could feel padded, and yet this is the case here. In episode four, as the various humans captured by Omega return home, we get a very tedious few minutes as they step one by one into the column of smoke. They could have been transported by a wave of Omega's hand, or stepped into the column as a group, but instead we get unnecessary prevarication in order to pad out the episode. In episode one, the explanation of how there are suddenly two Doctors present is both laboured and strangely over-complicated. This is not a complex issue at its most basic level, and based on the model of time travel adopted by the series; if you could travel in time, you could meet your younger self. Explaining regeneration is perhaps more difficult, but the Brigadier seemed to cope with it well enough in 'Spearhead from Space'. Here, we get a very tiresome and drawn-out interchange as the Doctors try and explain things to Jo, and therefore the viewers. It feels extremely patronizing and contributes to the feeling that 'The Three Doctors' is padded. Episode Two is even more padded, achieving little except to offer a cliffhanger very similar to that of Episode One, but on a slightly larger scale. And speaking of cliffhangers, the fight scene at the end of Episode Three is one of the worst in the series to date. 

There are only two supporting characters of note; Ollis and Tyler. Ollis is utterly superfluous beyond the opening scenes of episode one, suggesting that Baker and Martin suddenly realized that they were stuck with him and decided to have him tag along with the Brigadier and the others. Tyler is present simply to ask scientific questions to the Doctors, which results in the Doctor explaining things to the audience through Tyler rather than Jo. The entire story is a self-indulgent mess and a poor excuse for a celebration.