Although there was much to enjoy principally for the fans like myself, Colin Baker’s first full season was not well received generally. As well as being unfairly deemed excessively violent (e.g. certain scenes in ‘Attack of the Cybermen’ and‘Vengeance on Varos’) the forty-five minute episodic format seemed unpopular. A rest and rethink was implanted leading to a much longer than usual eighteen month gap between seasons.

Returning in September 1986, a group of four separate adventure segments, linked by an overall fourteen episode single story entitled ‘The Trial of A Time Lord’ showed a season that certainly reflected a change of style. The opening adventure with the working title ‘The Mysterious Planet’ was the last complete four parter from highly regarded writer Robert Holmes. Having given the series such classics as ‘Caves of Androzani’, ‘The Ark In Space’ and ‘Talons of Weng-Chiang’ there are signs of his writing prowess in this segment of the Trial.

Walking through a fairly sparse leafy forest the colourfully attired sixth Doctor holds onto his trusty multicoloured umbrella, his companion, Peri, unlike previous seasons seems content to hold on his arm whilst sheltering under the umbrella. The more grown up, tasteful and stylish clothes (silver-grey slacks, gold coloured silk blouse and diagonally striped yellow blazer) and longer hair conveys a companion who has certainly developed since the previous ‘Revelation of the Daleks’ story. The interaction between her and the Doctor, as typified during their initial scenes, has also evolved which albeit being quite natural is certainly most welcome. The character of Peri has indeed developed since first appearing as virtually a screaming spoilt brat in ‘Planet of Fire’ (e.g. her scenes in that story with Professor Howard Foster).

Having located a hidden entrance the duo’s subsequent exploration inside and below ground are well handled, complemented with suitable lighting and incidental music. Of particular note is the conversation Peri has with the Doctor, following the discovery of the Marble Arch underground sign, where Peri conveys her emotions about realising that Ravolox is infact Earth. This leads to Peri’s initial reticence to explore further leading to the pair temporarily separating. For the most part I find the incidental music for this story to be mostly gloom and boom however there are a few instances where it is particularly noteworthy and memorable. One such example is the piece used whilst the Doctor initially explores the Marb station facility.

Now Robert Holmes is well known for character double acts throughout the scripts he has produced for the series and ‘The Mysterious Planet’ has certainly a few of note. First up, observing the Doctor and Peri, considering whether to kill them or not are the mercenary pair of Sabalon Glitz and his junior assistant Dibber. Tony Selby is certainly well cast as the shady trader and popular rouge, so much so that it is most welcome that he gains repeat appearances both later in the ‘Trial’ season and then again in the fairly forgettable ‘Dragonfire’ story from the following year. His assistant the fairly slow witted Dibber is less memorable although his questionable past seems to indicate that Glitz possibly freed him from a remand home for some minor criminal infringement that he perpetrated. Amongst their dialogue I was surprised to note the familiar ‘Brigadier’ phrase ‘five rounds rapid’ cropping up in the fourth episode as they clasped blasters which looked suspiciously as if they had been lifted from the ‘Red Dwarf’ series.

Assisting Drathro, the impressive looking robot controlling Marb station, are Humker and Tandrell, two prattling servants who engage in light hearted banter whilst going about their duties. Similarly dressed in scientist whites together with yellow shirts these almost identical twins seem to delight in attempting to put down each others attempts to serve Drathro and it is only the towering robotic figure that seems to keep them focused on their task. On encountering them it’s interesting to mention how the Doctor takes great pleasure throughout the story in mis-naming them (e.g. ‘Handrail and Tonker’ or ‘Humbug and Toenail’) whenever they meet. In fact the Doctor’s naturally upbeat humorous interaction with, in particular the inhabitants of Marb station is most enjoyable.

There is also a less subtle pairing between Marb Station’s patrol Chief Guard, Merdeen (marking the welcome return of Tom Chadbon (formerly seen in Tom Baker’s ‘City of Death’ story) and his deputy Grell. We are presented with a memorable scene between these two when Grell questions Merdeen’s motives and loyalty to Drathro. This eventually leads to the death of the young deputy and as Merdeen kneels over his fallen comrade he emotionally expresses his regrets in being forced to kill him and how he had originally helped him to join the guards. Whilst Timothy Walker’s Grell is decked out in the usual red and yellow guard’s uniform topped off with the often used helmets (e.g. cropping up in ‘Earthshock’ and ‘Delta and the Bannermen’) Merdeen, dressed in scaly black with a close fitting closefitting skull cap really conveys the appearance of an cold emotionless character in the service of Drathro which is largely confirmed during the story.

Living up on the surface we encounter ‘The Tribe of the Free’, a primitive but proud people apparently eking out an existence from the land around them, or so we are led to believe. I’m sorry but judging by the spotless nature of their albeit authentic looking clothes I find it difficult to grasp that these people are struggling to survive. Maybe if they had been a little bit more dirty with mud splattered costumes and faces I might have been convinced. We then come to the leader, Queen Katryca as portrayed by noted comedy actress, the late Joan Sims. Now I know it’s great to get big name stars to play parts they would not normally be associated with but despite Joan’s best efforts I remain unconvinced that she is the great ruler that she claims. The costume and the regal way in which she carries herself whether it be in her initial open air meeting with Sabalon Glitz or inside the great hall of their settlement certainly help but in the final analysis I remain, ultimately, unconvinced. As a final word on the Tribe’s Queen her ultimate demise, together with one of her closest advisers, Broken Tooth, at the hands of Drathro is, I feel is, despite being fairly brief, well handled.

As I’ve said before I am most impressed with the costume for Drathro, a marvellous creation which allows great flexibility of movement, however his wide horn shaped head is frankly a bit of a disappointing letdown. Drathro, clearly unwilling to venture out from his surveillance fortress, despatches an L3 robot in his attempt to recapture the Doctor. The L3, an obelisk shaped object mounted on twin caterpillar tracks equipped with top mounted video relay equipment seemed to present limited offensive capability (namely running into things). However I was pleasantly surprised when having located the Doctor, locked up in one of Katrica’s primitive cell buildings, unleashed electrically charged cables from it’s sides to incapacitate and then secure him ready for return to Drathro. 

The subsequent rescue leads to another pleasing nod to the past, whether it be merely for fans or general viewers it is most welcome. With just the right amount of nasal inflection Colin Baker gives a fair interpretation of Jon Pertwee when, regaining consciousness at the base of the inert L3 robot, he says to Peri ‘My head hurts abominably Sarah Jane’. This follows nicely on from the previous season’s ‘Timelash’ stories appearance of a painting of the former Doctor. I also felt that the interaction between Drathro and the Doctor in the fourth episode was slightly reminiscent of Sarah Jane Smith’s persuasive conversation with the Giant Robot in Tom Baker’s debut.

Now with this particular adventure being part of the overall Trial story I should make some comment on those linking scenes. Well, yes the first scene where the TARDIS is dragged down to the space station and into the docking port is indeed impressive, certainly for the time it was made. I particularly like the slightly revised theme tune which I am delighted to say is currently being used by Big Finish in their Sixth Doctor releases. I feel Colin Baker did show potential in the television series and it is certainly heartening to find this vindicated in their releases. The way he stumbles out of the TARDIS, uncertain, how he got there, where here was and why Peri was missing does give way to a familiar sense of irritation on his first entering the Trial room and encountering the people he meets there. His interaction with the Valeyard (Michael Jayston) and the Inquisitor (Lynda Bellingham playing it very posh and upmarket) is typical of his character. I counted five mispronunciations of the Valeyard’s title spread throughout the story (episode two gave us ‘boatyard’ and ‘graveyard’, episode three weighed in with ‘farmyard’ and ‘scrapyard’ whilst episode four featured ‘knackersyard’). The final mispronunciation, that of ‘knackersyard’ was in amongst a particularly memorable blustering outburst directed mainly towards the Valeyard. This was entirely typical of this incarnation of the Time Lord but of course there was much more to come to raise his emotions higher in the subsequent segments of the trial…

In summing up ‘The Mysterious Planet’ whilst not obviously reaching the classic status of some of Robert Holmes’ previous stories does stand up fairly well on repeat viewings. Although obviously conveying a distinct change in style from the preceding years stories it is an enjoyable and welcome opening four episodes of what was, at the time, an important season for the series.

After the ghastly 'Mindwarp, 'The Trial of a Time Lord' continues with a story commonly known as 'Terror of the Vervoids', by 'The Mark of the Rani' scribes Pip and Jane Baker. I must confess that, my mood considerably soured by the preceding four episodes, I was expecting to vent further spleen on 'Terror of the Vervoids', but although it is somewhat flawed, I nevertheless found it hugely entertaining on this occasion; for all of its faults, 'Terror of the Vervoids' is essentially fun.

Before I start on the story proper, I'll again consider the actual courtroom scenes. Here, they are once more rather less intrusive than in Episodes Five to Eight, and despite the Doctor's continued grief at Peri's apparent death, the mood is lightened somewhat as the ball enters the Doctor's court. It is often argued that the idea of the Doctor presenting evidence from his own future is nonsensical, although this is not strictly true; it is established back in 'Genesis of the Daleks' that the Time Lord's can make predictions of possible future timelines, and in retrospect the Matrix seems to be the most obvious tool for them to use. Thus, it is consistent with what we know about Time Lord technology that the Doctor could present evidence from his own possible future, even if he were to be executed at the end of his trial. Speaking of which, foreknowledge of what is to come adds rather deeper meaning to the Valeyard's line, "The future? Is it going to be the Doctor's defense that he improves? This I must see!"

In terms of the overall subplots seeded throughout 'The Trial of a Time Lord', 'Terror of the Vervoids' contributes rather less than its predecessors, although the fact that the evidence has been altered since the Doctor reviewed it whilst preparing his defense makes it even clearer that the Matrix has been tampered with. Ultimately of course, the greatest contribution of 'Terror of the Vervoids' to the trial is the fact that it causes the charge against the Doctor to be changed. I find it rather amusing that the Doctor is ham-fisted enough to provide evidence of himself committing genocide to an opponent as obviously keen to see him dead as the Valeyard is, although this bit really is nonsensical; since these events haven't happened yet, why doesn't he just promise to find an alternative solution to the Vervoid problem when he eventually encounters them?

And so on to the story itself. 'Terror of the Vervoids' suffers from several faults. For one thing, the direction by Chris Clough is competent for the most part, but let down by a few really poor moments, such as when the trainers worn by the actors playing the Vervoids become visible twice in Episode Twelve. The effects sequences used to depict the Black Hole of Tartarus are really bad, showing as they do a black hole picked out in bright red triangles; these sequences look even worse when the model of the Hyperion III is placed in them, as neither the shot nor the script provides a sense of perspective. Anyone with even the most basic knowledge of physics must surely realize how far away from the black hole the Hyperion III must actually be in order to pass near it in safety, but here it looks as though as it is literally missing it by a few feet. And yes, I know this probably wouldn't bother me if I weren't a scientist, but I am and it does. Whilst I'm on the subject of poor direction, the close-up of the Doctor's face at the end of Episode Ten is taking the piss even in the midst of Season Twenty-Three; provided with the more sensible option of keeping the camera on Ruth Baxter's face, Clough instead directs the camera straight up Baker's nose. 

In addition to these minor niggles with the direction, 'Terror of the Vervoids' has what might be generously termed eccentric scripting. The Bakers are notorious for overblown dialogue, and here it is evident throughout. The most memorable examples of appalling dialogue are delivered by Commodore Travers and include "On the previous occasion that the Doctor's path crossed mine, I found myself involved in a web of mayhem and intrigue" and of course the immortal "Whoever's been dumped in there has been pulverized into fragments and sent floating into space, and in my book that's murder!", as well as the less celebrated "Fire alarms are not playthings for irresponsible buffoons". Whilst I'm on the subject of eccentric scripting, there is a scene in Episode Nine which seems intended purely to establish that Professor Lasky is a bit of a battle axe, as she grills Janet the stewardess about her lost luggage. It transpires that she entered cabin six by mistake, when she should have entered cabin nine, because she was looking at her key ring upside down. The scene demonstrates that Lasky is short-tempered and quick to place blame on others, but more than this it ends up raising the question of why the Hyperion III has lockable cabin doors if the keys are interchangeable…

But despite these flaws, 'Terror of the Vervoids' is very entertaining. It is hugely derivative, inviting comparisons with the base-under-siege stories beloved of the Troughton era and of course 'The Robots of Death' to which it bears several similarities in terms of plot, and of course it is a blatant homage to Agatha Christie's Murder On the Orient Express, a copy of which Lasky reads at one point. This scene in fact typifies the slightly tongue-in-cheek approach that the Bakers take in their script, although this is far less obvious than in 'The Mark of the Rani'. As in their earlier stories, the Bakers seem to enjoy making use of the Doctor Who format, combining the elements of a traditional monster story with the clichй of a scheming megalomaniac (albeit one who is more banal than many in the series), all wrapped up in a fairly effective whodunit subplot. There is a certain knowing humour inherent in the story; the boots left by Hallet are clearly planted to suggest that the missing passenger has been thrown into the pulveriser, and it's so blindingly obvious that the Bakers have to be poking fun at the format of murder mystery stories. By the end of Episode Eleven and throughout Episode Twelve, numerous plot threads mature and within the space of about twenty-five minutes we are presented with two hijack attempts with entirely different motivations, the unmasking of a murderer, and the defeat of the obligatory monsters. It borders on the ludicrous, but it works because the script has a certain verve that belies its pompous and overblown dialogue. 

As for the murder mystery itself, it is effectively handled; Malcolm Tierney's Doland is motivated by a desire to achieve financial glory by exploiting the Vervoids, which despite the science fiction trappings is a believably petty motivation. He shows no remorse whatsoever and keeps on killing victim after victim to protect his own interests, but whilst he's a clearly a psychopath, Tierney's quiet, banal performance makes Doland far more realistic than many of the raving lunatics seen inDoctor Who. In the style of such writers as Agatha Christie and Ruth Rendell, all of the clues as to the identity of the killer are available to the viewer, making it easier and easier to work out who the murderer is as the story progresses. Indeed, the death of Hallet deliberately makes an example of the fact that clues are on screen for the attentive viewer to spot, as the Doctor smugly points out to the Valeyard; as a story point it is a nice detail which shows off the Doctor's deductive abilities (I confess I don't recall spotting the translator clue when this story was first broadcast, although I was only nine years old at the time…), but it also gently plays with the whodunit format. 

'Terror of the Vervoids' also benefits from decent characterisation. In part, this is a requirement of the format, as characters are given enough background to provide a number of suspects; David Allister's highly strung Bruchner is one such character, and eventually turns out not to be the murderer, but to be sufficiently horrified by the thought of the Vervoids reaching Earth to not only attempt suicide but to take everyone on board the Hyperion III with him. Of the other two scientists, I've already discussed Doland, but Honor Blackman is perfectly cast as the grouchy Professor Lasky, her initially foul tempered demeanor making her growing respect for the Doctor all the more effective. Meanwhile, Denys Hawthorne also puts in a good performance as Rudge, yet another potential suspect who turns out to have (or rather, develops) his own agenda, as the put-upon security guard decides to get some pay back for years of humiliation at the hands of his superiors. Both the script and Hawthorne effectively suggest that this perceived poor treatment is largely in Rudge's own insecure mind, and the Doctor's final dismissal of him as "just a little man" is cruelly ironic. The Mogarians, Rudge's fellow hijackers, are also potential murder suspects, as they continuously object to the exploitation of their planet's resources by humanity. And whilst I'm on the subject of the Mogarians, it is nice to see an alien race that doesn't speak English for once. 

Even those characters that never seem like potential suspects are well acted and characterised; Arthur Hewlett's Kimber serves primarily to necessitate Hallet changing his plans and adopting the guise of Enzu, but the few scenes that he is in are enough to render him sufficiently likeable that his death has some impact. As for the Commodore, Michael Craig does a frankly astonishing job of maintaining the character's dignity in light of the mouthfuls of awful dialogue that he is given, and the character's previous experience of the Doctor makes for an often amusing relationship between the two, that also showcases some painful insights into how the Doctor is often perceived, Travers noting that people tend to start to die whenever the Doctor is present. 

Such characterisation adds significantly to the air of intrigue that permeates Episode Nine, as questions are raised for the viewer about the pods, the Isolation Room, and Grenville's suspicious behaviour. Mention of the pods brings me to the Vervoids themselves. Whilst they are often derided for having heads that resemble female genitalia, as an attempt to create a hostile plant they really aren't bad. Whilst 'The Seeds of Doom' is rightly acclaimed as a classic by many fans, even the Krynoid looks dodgy at times, highlighting the fact that creating monstrous vegetation is no easy task. The Vervoids are well designed if a little rubbery in execution, and in terms of the story their instinctive antipathy towards all animal life makes a peaceful solution possible; the result is a rare attempt for the Sixth Doctor's era at a real monster story, and it is more than welcome. In addition, the means by which the Vervoids are defeated is rather ingenious, even if it is dependent on technobabble. 

Finally, there are the regulars. In keeping with his desire to prove to the court that he improves, the Sixth Doctor of the future is far more playful and whimsical than usual, and it works very well. Lines such as "More of a clown actually. Would you like to hear my rendering of "On With the Motley?" ", "This is a situation that requires tact and finesse. Fortunately, I am blessed with both" and "Wish I could get rid of my waste so easily" shows a more self-deprecating side to often arrogant Sixth Doctor, in part due to Baker's warmer delivery. In addition to this, his relationship with new companion Mel contrasts nicely with his often-spiky relationship with Peri, the pair indulging in much light-hearted banter and seeming genuinely close. It is hard to imagine Peri managing to persuade the Sixth Doctor to use an exercise bike for example, but it seems perfectly natural that Mel can do so. As for Mel herself, she is one of the least popular companions to appear in the series, but personally I rather like her. Both Bonnie Langford and Mel the character exude tremendous enthusiasm, and it's refreshing to see the Doctor accompanied by someone who is obviously enjoying the ride. True, Langford (and by extension Mel) can be too chirpy to he point that she becomes annoying, but the character's essential bravery and resourcefulness, coupled with an inquiring mind and tremendous curiosity, mean that she's ideal companion material. 

In summary then, 'Terror of the Vervoids' sees an improvement in the fortunes of 'The Trial of a Time Lord', and if nothing else is very entertaining. It also serves as a well-timed rest from the courtroom proceedings, which are less intrusive here, after the various issues that were raised during 'Mindwarp' and before all is revealed in the story's denouement…

With a new series about a 1940’s circus entitled ‘Carnivale’ currently airing in America at present, consistently gaining favourable ratings and reviews now seemed like a good opportunity prior to this series eventual arrival here in the UK some time in 2004 to re-evaluate a story possibly similar to a slight degree in style that was used to close out the twenty-fifth anniversary season.

After all these years this modestly titled story still has the same magical atmosphere conveyed by the characters, costumes, plot and incidental music that captivated me when it was originally transmitted. This might be surprising that it succeeds so well in its objective to entertain when you remember that the recording of this story was disrupted due to an asbestos scare at the BBC TV Centre resulting in the use of tents being erected in the Centre’s car park. Despite this, rather than detract from the production, I felt that the use of tents further added to the magic of the Circus interior.

It stars off harmlessly enough with the invitation to visit the Psychic Circus on the planet Segonax. The light hearted appeal of this tourist attraction conveyed by the ‘junk mail advertisement’ transmitted onto the TARDIS console screen by the little robotic device clearly wins over the Doctor. In particular he expresses an interest in entering the Circus talent contest though thankfully we are not treated, once again, to his spoon playing as featured in the largely forgettable (apart from enjoyable establishing seventh Doctor persona and costume change scenes) ‘Time and the Rani’. However, as is so often the case the reality is quite unlike the glossy advertising, something similar to the enjoyable ‘Paradise Towers’ story. Instead of lush green countryside they find on arrival that Segonax is an arid dustbowl.

Although, as we later discover there is a malevolent entity at work deep below where the Psychic Circus has pitched its tents I find that the stories characters can effectively be broken down into three distinct groups. The first group of three characters are clearly under the control of the entity of which appears to be, from what we learn during the story, the remaining members of the original eight people who initially ran the Circus presumably prior to their arrival on Segonax.

The towering figure of Ian Riddington’s Chief Clown decked out in silver fabriced clowns outfit, neck and wrist frills topped off with pointed hat is clearly the main protagonist of the story. Even in the early scenes with his clown finery covered by undertakers coat and hat, riding in the old fashioned hearse (equipped with the latest scanning equipment) the prevalent ghostly white face flecked with the occasional black brush strokes and traditional clown’s red lips convey a sense of cruel intent. It is therefore understandable that Ace finds clowns creepy if they are all like this person! Although this Chief Clown character conveys a public friendly, laughing persona, his real evil personality and objectives are never far from the surface. This is never more evident when he later temporarily halts Ace’s attempt to leave the Circus arena, hungry to know where she found the circular spiral patterned earring pinned to her jacket.

Ricco Ross’s Ringmaster character is a streetwise American (possibly with a New York accent) who puts in an entertaining rap act into his introducing acts. The third key member of the Circus team, Morgana (played by Deborah Manship) is clothed as a typical circus gypsy, telling fortunes through crystal ball readings and tarot cards in addition to supposedly selling tickets. Although they seem to have fairly equal status in the running of the circus it is clear that the Chief Clown sees himself superior to the these other two, especially bearing in mind that he is in charge of the Circus’s contingent of robot Clowns.

Our second group includes the rebellious young couple whom we see at the start of the story, frantically running across the barren sandy landscape of Segonax. Bellboy and Flowerchild are heading towards an ancient disused bus located some distance from the Psychic Circus. With it decked out in hippy graffiti it is puzzling to wonder about the history of this vehicle and why it is so far away from the site of the Circus. We later hear about former colleagues Peacepipe and Juniper Berry who had some connection to the Circus but had died under mysterious circumstances presumably in the Circus ring. As to why both Bellboy and Flowerchild had discovered what was going on and made the decision to escape that is something we can only guess at. It also becomes clear that each member of the Circus staff has a specific skill, for Bellboy this is being a skilled robotic engineer. Clearly his absence from the Circus cannot be tolerated hence the pursuit instigated by the Chief Clown utilising Flowerchild’s yellow and blue coloured kites which all bear a menacing eye motif in the centre. This symbol crops up throughout the story, in Morgana’s crystal ball, the artefact guarded by the robotic conductor at the bus and at the bottom of a deep well located under the site of the Circus.

On Bellboy’s eventual capture and return to the ring we learn that he has some resistance to whatever evil pervades the Circus ring which no doubt must have come as a frustratingly unexpected annoyance to the resident trio. Having remained resilient to the effects of the force in the ring he is taken away and tied up whilst they consider what next to do with the wayward, but clearly essential, robotic engineer.

The scenes where Bellboy (played well by Christopher Guard) is a nervous prisoner interacting with Ace are extremely memorable. The first scene opens with Ace, having been captured by the Chief Clown, being thrown into the darkened environment filled with many inert robotic clown figures in various states of dress. Then, suddenly they slowly start to move threateningly towards her. The tension of the scene is sustained for the sufficient amount of time before finally dissipated just as they are closing in for the kill by Bellboy. This leads to the conversation she has with the nervous robot maker which fills in most of the background to the Circus. Also memorable is the later scene where Bellboy, realising there is no escape and finding he has no alternative, sets his own creations on himself. As he dies by their hands the cruel upward tilt of the hand combined with a sick smile further enforces the Chief Clown’s cold unfeeling personality.

The third member of this rebel group, had however not been as fortunate in his attempts to escape. Now reduced to little more than a gibbering idiot the aptly named Deadbeat conveys the aspect of a drugged 60’s hippy fit only for sweeping up the Circus. We later learn that the malevolent force had, finding him to be the most dangerous of those working at the Circus, wiped his memory, stored it on an eye component and rather than destroy it had elected to store it on the bus, stationing a robotic conductor there to guard it. It is puzzling why they did not simply destroy this and leave him mindless but the reasoning behind this is something more to ponder over. Maybe this component had other latent powers and was constructed of a material impervious to attack. Regaining this persons memory and his real identity (an impressive character transformation for actor Chris Jury), that of Kingpin (possibly once the Circus manager) his role in relationship to the eye component was a key element in defeating the evil entity of the story.

The third group are the visiting tourists and they are certainly an interesting bunch with some having colourful backgrounds. This however cannot be attributed to the loud uncouth figure of ‘Nord the Vandal’. Wearing a helmet with large bat wings sitting astride a noisy three wheel yellow coloured motorbike equipped with Viking horns he portrays the archetypical ‘Hells Angel’ figure. Whilst, as we later discover, possessing great strength, his intelligence does not rate that highly. Gian Sammarco’s inclusion as an annoying fresh faced clean cut ‘Whizkid’ character could possibly be detrimental to the story as most casual viewers seem to, inaccurately, attribute most ardent Doctor Who fans to fit this persona. However in the context of the story it seems suitable as the Psychic Circus had gained quite a favourable reputation up to this point. Additionally his inclusion was fairly brief and there is possibly a sense of satisfaction to viewers when he later meets his end in the circus ring.

The pairing of intergalactic explorer Captain Cook and his travelling companion, the mysterious Mags were the most welcome characters from this story. Noted actor T.P. McKenna makes a welcome appearance as the well travelled figure decked out in pith helmet, khaki shirt and shorts who seems, in my opinion, to have an almost unhealthy addiction to drinking tea. As a ‘crushing bore’, relating tales of his many and varied explorations he also has a keen interest in his own survival over all others. His companion Mags (played by comedy actress Jessica Martin) has a much more checked and mysterious past. Appearing humanoid in appearance, her long black hair contains faint streaks of green and, wearing a black vamp-type outfit, she appears ill at ease, which later we find, is with good reason. Exposure to the moonlight causes her to transform into an uncontrollable snarling beast complete with claws and fangs. Most notably this is used by the Captain as a way of attacking the Doctor later in the story. Apparently, for some reason, the Captain rescued Mags from the planet Volpana where she was about to be shot, with a silver bullet, by the locals.

When the Doctor and Ace do eventually make their way up to the Circus (a classic establishing shot of the large dark blue and red tented structure set against a light coloured empty sky broken only by a large giant ringed planet) they find only three individuals in the stalls sitting around the main circus ring. These figures, masquerading as a typical family group (Mother, Father and Child) are infact manifestations of the evil that is controlling the circus.

Having, as it were, eventually got to the bottom of things in the fourth episode, through an imaginative temporal corridor the Doctor emerges into a sandy covered ring. As he gets to his feet, turning away from the high walled surround, he looks up and proclaims without any sense of surprise ‘The Gods of Ragnarok’ on seeing the three stone figures seated in a raised area similar to that which might be found in a Roman arena to house the ruling classes who watched Gladiatorial combat. It is here that these beings instruct him to entertain them, to which he replies ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet’ which seemed, I felt, rather reminiscent of the slightly overweight American comic W.C. Fields. Now Sylvester McCoy, the consummate entertainer, seems well suited to performing the magic tricks that blend seamlessly from one to the other. It brings to mind his brief crooning in this season’s earlier, fairly average ‘Happiness Patrol’ story. With a casual manner he drifts through seemingly simple rope tricks, rope into circular container, candle lit by second hand, sets light to circular pan, places lid to extinguish fire, opens again to find snake, turns snake into umbrella before using said umbrella to shield himself from the rain instigated by the Ragnarok Gods.

There is one character who does not fit into the three distinct groups whom I haven’t mentioned yet but her brief performance although welcome is not central to the plot. As a wandering native Stallslady well known comedy actress Peggy Mount conveys the locals resentment of the Circus admirably. Her contempt for the Circus people and any tourists planning to visit the attraction is conveyed well. Even the Doctor has a tough challenge on his hands in pacifying her distain towards himself and Ace despite some of the amount of clearly foul produce which she is attempting to sell from the back of her horse pulled stall.

Another classic moment of the story that I recall is when, with the Ragnarok Gods ultimately defeated and the Circus about to blow up, McCoy calmly and resolutely walks away from the explosion. The manner of his measured departure from the scene coupled with his use of his question mark umbrella as a walking stick is certainly reminiscent of William Hartnell which can only be in McCoy and the series’ favour at a time when the shows future was far from certain. Obviously each actor who comes takes the part of the Doctor brings something to the part as well as drawing on previous incarnations. Although I agree with something ‘the Brigadier’ said (‘Splendid fellows, all of them’) with Sylvester you can certainly see a closer similarity to the late, great, Patrick Troughton without whose impressive relaunch of the series in 1966 would have meant the series might have concluded way back then.

It certainly seems that the Circus is gaining a resurgence of interest at the moment. I’ve already made a passing mention to the ‘Carnivale’ series currently airing at the moment, but let us not forget pop/rock group Debbie Harry’s Blonde featured a circus in their rather bizarre video for their recent song ‘Good Boys’. Personally the Circus is not really my entertainment taste, the cruelty to animals aspect I guess but of course there are ‘animal free’ circus but it all seems a rather low tec form of entertainment in this twenty-first century. Having said that ‘The Greatest Show In The Galaxy’ is an entertaining spin on this form of live entertainment with an alien planet/lifeform twist which certainly works in its favour. At the core of this story is an engaging plot told well and I can certainly heartily recommend it for anyone looking for an enjoyable form of escapist cult television entertainment.

"No bug-eyed monsters!". That was the original injunction laid down by Sydney Newman at the BBC when he and Verity Lambert came up with the idea for a time-travel programme for children called Doctor Who. But when production for the originally-intended second story fell through, the fledgling production staff found themselves in a bind, but with a script (originally intended to be fourth) by young Mr. Nation in hand. When the monsters of the series' first futuristic piece were designed, sure enough, they had a single, buggy eye, on a stalk, no less!

In truth, they looked ridiculous. Most commonly compared to pepper pots, completely lacking in manipulative appendages, the Dalek is an impractical mechanism, and an improbable success.

And yet, successful they were, owing largely to Nation's initial script. It's not their appearance that frightens, that generates tension...it's their psychology, their ruthless, selfish, merciless attitude toward the universe and everything in it. You can talk to a Dalek, but you can't reason with one, because, from the very first, it's clear that the Dalek mind doesn't work anything like the human mind, and they like it that way.

These earliest days of Doctor Who were very different from the hey day of Tom Baker and his successors. At this time, the Doctor was till a very unsympathetic character -- selfish, irascable, arrogant, occasionally charming and erratically brilliant. He's far more likely to cause trouble in his own self-interest than to fix things.

Instead, the heros of the piece wind up being the two human companions, Barbara and Ian -- particularly Ian, whose tendency to take a strong moral stance would rub off on the Doctor over the next couple of years, until, by the time of Ian's departure from the series, the Doctor, for all his increasing frailty, is much closer in temperament to the do-gooder of the next 25 years.

Almost all of this can be credited to Mr. Nation, who succeeded where Anthony Coburn (author of the first serial, "100,000 BC") had failed in bringing these characters to life. At a time when American adult television was still producing simplistic sitcoms with cardboard characters, Nation produced a script for children that properly introduced the four, very complex regulars, including a strong, intelligent female role model in Barbara.

The story itself is well paced for the style of story-telling they were going for back then -- somewhere between the purely episodic story-telling of modern American TV and the pure serial of a Flash Gordon. Tho' seven episodes long, it rarely drags.

Considering the budget they were on, the sets are incredibly elaborate. The petrified jungle where the TARDIS first lands is not nearly as cheesy as you might expect (the full-colour jungle in the 1976 episode "The Face of Evil" was far cheesier); the Dalek city is believably alien. Like the Daleks themselves, it's hard to understand how the city really functions at all, but that's not entirely a bad thing. The Daleks are supposed to be a little beyond our ken, after all.

But really, where the story shines is in the way it plays the main characters. The Doctor is marvelously ambiguous throughout, conniving and cheating in order to get to see the Dalek city (he doesn't know what it is, at the time), selfish and even slightly cowardly in the face of danger, and yet ultimately willing to do what seems to be the right thing.

Ian fulfills the role that in later years the Doctor himself would play -- agent provocateur. Ian understands where the extreme pacifism of the Thals comes from, but he refuses to accept it as a valid solution to the current problem. His reinforcement of those Thals who want to take action to save themselves tips the scales. The Daleks would spend centuries blaming the Doctor for all their problems, but in this first meeting, it's Ian they really have to worry about.

One of the most remarkable characters in Doctor Who's long run is Barbara Wright. The series would have occasional lapses (like Jo Grant), but this story establishes the more general rule that female companions, even if they scream a lot, will have brains in their head and be willing and able to take independent action. In this case, Barbara also has a heart of her own. In the earliest conception, Ian and Barbara were already a couple, but by the time the series came to air, their romance had been removed in favor of a professional friendship. This left Nation free to have Barbara get attached to one of the Thal men, providing a sympathetic hook and helping to make the Thals themselves more than just J Random Humanoid Alien With a Problem. Whether because Nation is a romantic, or because it's a children's program, there's never anything very overt about the bond that forms, but it's clear at the end that Barbara is actually a little reluctant to leave.

Susan probably fares the worst, and yet even she doesn't do too badly. While more prone to panic, she's also much younger, and very sheltered until recently. She still manages, however, to be useful and resourceful. She stands in adequately for all the younger audience who might well react the same way under those circumstances. The human adults provide excellent role models, while Susan provides someone for the kids to identify with.

Watching this story again today, there's little question as to why it was this serial that established Doctor Who as a success. While one couldn't predict a 27-year television run on the strength of this story, one can certainly see why people started tuning in more regularly. If you've never seen any of the William Hartnell stories, this is a good place to start.

It's hard to convey to someone who has never seen it just how truly dreadful 'The Time Monster' is. Its greatest flaw is that the plot and script are utterly appalling, and with this basis pedestrian direction, cheap set design and mediocre acting certainly cannot help it. 

So, the plot. Ironically, the plot doesn't actually contain any obvious holes per se, but somehow it manages to combine tedium and absurdity to plumb new depths. The idea of Kronos itself isn't bad, but the execution is terrible; this world-destroying threat to reality is realized as a large pigeon and is thoroughly unimpressive, combining a tacky costume with bad camera work that makes it plain that this is a man in a suit swinging backwards and forwards on a wire. The exact nature of the threat posed by Kronos is also glossed over, so that we never get anything other than a vague idea of what it is capable of; when Kronos appears in Atlantis in episode six, the set wobbles a bit and everybody falls over, whilst the Doctor and the Master dash into their TARDISes and safety. In addition, Kronos' ability to devour people is equally vague; it is said to devour people early on in the story, but this is changed to throwing them into the vortex instead in episodes four and five, for the truly ghastly deus ex machina resolution to the episode four cliff-hanger, with the Jo pulling a Big Red Switch to rescue the Doctor. Handy that such a function is on hand just in case… 

The lack of menace inherent in 'The Time Monster' is not solely due to the under whelming nature of Kronos, but also the reaction of the Doctor to it. Whilst I'm no fan of 'The Dжmons', at least in that story the Doctor conveys a true sense of urgency about the danger posed by Azal, a threat to the entire world. Forced to deal with Kronos, a threat to the entire universe, he makes glib remarks, seems generally relaxed, and messes around with his time flow analogue, a ludicrous plot device serving only as padding. And possibly humour, although not noticeably. Padding is painfully noticeable here, and it isn't very good padding; the scene in which the Doctor and the Master confront each other whilst their TARDISes are locked together is ludicrous for example. After several stories in which the Master has proved that he is unbalanced enough to toy with forces way beyond his ability to control properly, are we really expected to believe that the Doctor genuinely thinks that he can convince him of his folly by lecturing him from his own TARDIS? The only purpose served by this is to delay the Doctor actually leaving his TARDIS and facing the Master, so that the Master will summon Kronos to deal with him in time for the cliffhanger. 

The return of UNIT doesn't help the story and possibly contributes to the annoying cosy feeling that dispels any air of danger that could have been present otherwise. To be fair, Benton is quite good here, except when he falls the Master's "look behind you" trick. This not only detracts from his near outwitting of the Master just moments before, but also doesn't make sense, since he has his back to a closed door, which has just seen shut, and would clearly have heard if anyone had just opened it. The Brigadier is virtually useless here and I also can't help wondering why, if he's so sure that the Master will return to the TOMTIT lab, he doesn't search the research establishment, where he would soon have found the Master lurking in Percival's study. He knows the Master is dangerous, the Doctor has warned him that TOMTIT is dangerous, and yet he just shrugs and says that the Master will turn up, making no attempt to actually guard the lab. Yates also returns here, and whilst he is fortunately gets little to do, he is as annoying as ever, equipped as he is with his usually arsenal of cheeky comments to superior officers, a familiar strain on UNIT's credibility. He's also an excuse for more ridiculous padding; the Master seems to really want to stop the Doctor's TARDIS from reaching its destination, so why doesn't he just time-scoop the V1 bomb in the first place instead of messing about with knights on horseback and roundheads? And for that matter, if the Master time-scooped the V1 so that it exploded in the present, it can't have landed in the past, so the old local couldn't remember it doing so. Having said that, virtually no thought seems to have gone into the time-related technobabble whatsoever. The stuff about the Chronovores existing outside time works in the context of Doctor Who makes sense (the concept of things existing outside of time and space was touched on in 'The Mind Robber'), but the waffle about interstitial time isn't even remotely plausible technobabble, the line about time being made "up of little bits" a particularly dire example of the kind of gibberish on display here.

Once the story moves to Atlantis, things get even worse. Mercifully, all the actors make a real effort, and Ingrid Pitt as Galleia and George Cormack as Dalios both handle the diabolical cod-Shakespearian dialogue rather well, but the script is really cringe-worthy by this point. Delgado's portrayal as the Master is always worth watching, but here he struggles with some dreadful lines (calling Krasis a poltroon is a classic example) and generally ranting in a moustache-twirling fashion. I wouldn't mind so much if the Master was on his usual form, but he doesn't really seem to be trying here, just going through evil motions. Which also raises the question of why, since he seems genuinely annoyed here when UNIT and the Doctor track him down, he even bothers to establish TOMTIT in England in the first place. Sadly, during his final scene when the Master begs the Doctor to save him from Kronos, even Delgado seems to be hamming it up. He also adopts an unconvincing and extremely sporadic Greek accent. 

There's more. The Atlantean costumes look absurd. The Atlanteans, supposedly Greek, are clearly not (although I suppose I should be grateful that this spares us the uncomfortable sight of "blacked-up" actors). The Minotaur is crowbarred into the script in order to hammer home the fact that the Chronovores had an impact on mythology, and is the crowning turd. I don't even think the much-praised "daisiest daisy" scene is especially good, although this is of course down entirely to personal taste. Also how come the Doctor's TARDIS is suddenly working perfectly without outside intervention?

The two main regulars offer some solace. Pertwee, whilst not quite recovered from 'The Mutants', seems more interested in the script than he did in that story, although as noted above he's rather too laid back. Katy Manning is excellent, and Jo gets to play a key role, first rescuing the Doctor using the Big Red Switch, and later time-ramming the TARDISes to save the universe when the Doctor can't bring himself to do so. Sadly, it isn't enough; 'The Time Monster' is a shambles, and a dire end to a season that started so well. It is worth noting however, that if you are childish enough, there is one reason to watch 'The Time Monster'; I always thought that this was a fan myth, but I've listened to it carefully three times to be sure and in episode three, when the Doctor is supposed to say "Do buck up, Brigadier", Pertwee definitely says "Do f*ck up, Brigadier". Which is a lot more amusing than the thraskin/plinge conversation.

So, 'The Five Doctors' is simple, slightly flawed Sunday evening fun. This would be the problem some people have the tendency to make it out to be if simple, slightly flawed sunday evening fun Dr. Who stories weren't in the majority throughout its long run.

I admit, I was a quite the young whippersnapper when I first saw 'The Five Doctors' and when I saw it again, years later, it didn't hold up to my memories. However, it still holds up well, with the story and links all holding together despite all the different threads, due to so many characters, that are flapping foot loose and fancy free in the wind. 

All involved give good performances, particularly Jon Pertwee, who slips back into his role with complete ease. As ever, I enjoyed Anthony Ainley as the Master, me being one who has never understood criticism of him or the Master character.

Richard Hurdnall never fails to amaze me with his performance as the First Doctor. OK, so he's missing a few of the characteristics William Hartnell brought to the role, but trying to act the same character in the same way another actor did is difficult at the best of times, let alone such a known role that Hartnell had made very much his own.

It's my opinion that if you like Who in general, you'll like this. Perhaps more could have been done with the premise, but they did only have 90 minutes rather than several episodes. I think it's a very high-ranking piece of Who glory.