Let me make this clear from the start; I love 'The Androids of Tara'. It exemplifies how well Williams' approach to Doctor Who can work, and whilst it is by no means typical of the series, it is a highly entertaining and witty story, with a great villain and Tom Baker on top of his form. 

Before I start lavishing praise on 'The Androids of Tara', let me first discuss its shortcomings. These are entirely down to the production, and more specifically to the costume design. Whilst many of the costumes on display are suitably evocative of the romantic medieval feel of the story as a whole, they are so mismatched that they seem to have been purloined more or less at random from the BBC costume department, since they consist largely of any old items of brightly coloured period clothing hastily thrown together. This is most obvious in the fact that Romana's outfit, chosen from the TARDIS wardrobe and supposedly in keeping with fashions on Tara during the era in question, bears little resemblance to the costumes worn by the Tarans, but it is by no means the only example since everyone else seems to have picked cloaks and helmets at random. As for the Archimandrite, his costume seemingly addresses the age-old rhetorical question; does the Pope wear a silly hat? This is a minor criticism at best, but it does make the production seem rather cheap. On the other hand, my friends all wear fairly different clothes, so it is perhaps a more realistic approach. The other main point of contention is the Taran beast, surely one of the most unconvincing monsters ever to appear in the series, and the fact that it is very much a token monster means that it could easily have been dispensed with. So unconvincing is it that if I wasn't already familiar with the story I might have assumed that it is intended to be a man in a costume, rather like the Cailleach in the previous story. And that is pretty much the full extent of my dissatisfaction with 'The Androids of Tara'.

Everything else is pretty good really. 'The Androids of Tara' is Doctor Who's take on The Prisoner of Zenda, right down to the pseudo-medieval setting. Instead of human doppelgangers we have android duplicates, and instead of ordinary swords and crossbows we have swords that deliver electric shocks and crossbows that fire energy bolts, but everything else is pure Hope, with castles, aristocrats and peasants, and a battle for the throne. There is swashbuckling and fencing on display and a thoroughly caddish villain who wants to be crowned king. It's no more original a plot than that of 'Underworld', but it plagiarizes with style. Thrust into this story, the Doctor seems completely at home, and the Baker handles the witty script with panache, saving the day from early on as he first prevents Grendel from seizing the crown by repairing the android double of Prince Reynart and then sets about rescuing Romana (twice), the Prince and Strella. The script is eminently quotable, with lines such as "Would you mind not standing on my chest, my hat's on fire?" and "A hamster with a blunt penknife could do it quicker!", both lines quoted in both The Discontinuity Guide and The Television Companion, but worth repeating here. The wit is not just in the script however; Baker's performance is spot on and features many trivial but amusing moments such as when Farrah threatens the Doctor with a sword, whereupon he smoothly takes it off him, examines it and hands it back. As for his final duel with Grendel, it is a superb climax, as he first hesitantly parries the Count's blows for effect, before gradually demonstrating that he is more than capable of holding his own against the finest swordsman on Tara. 

'The Androids of Tara' does not have subtle subtexts or complicated subplots, but then it doesn't need them. Having nicked ideas from The Prisoner of Zenda, Fisher decides to go one better by having not one doppelganger plot but two, as in addition to the android double of Reynart, we also have Romana's uncanny resemblance to Strella. And an android duplicate of Strella. And of Romana. Good grief. On principle, I'm extremely wary of the plot contrivance of look-alikes, but Doctor Who has a very good record in this field and continues this trend here. Thus, Mary Tamm gets plenty to do by playing four different roles; since both Strella and Romana are slightly aloof aristocratic women, she doesn't get much opportunity to show off any acting skills she may or may not have (I've never seen her in anything except Doctor Who, and for all I know she is very like Romana in real life), but she does fill these similar roles very well. Since the Doctor decides to take a holiday and go fishing at the start of 'The Androids of Tara', it is left to Romana to find the fourth segment of the Key to Time, which serves two purposes. Firstly it demonstrates how much the Doctor has grown to trust her, and secondly it teaches Romana a lesson about smug superiority as she discovers just how difficult it is to avoid becoming involved in local affairs with or without her eccentric companion. 

K9 once more gets a sizeable role, acting variously as hunting dog, scientific advisor, mobile weapon, and (to borrow a pun from the script) sea dog. In addition, I never tire of seeing the Doctor thrashed at chess by his ever-smug computer. The supporting characters are also well realized and also well acted; Cyril Shaps' Archimandrite clearly doesn't trust Grendel one inch, but is has too much respect for his own survival to vocally object to any of the Count's transparently villainous machinations, instead frowning disapprovingly to himself. Neville Jason's noble Prince Reynart is fittingly chivalrous, and although he spends a great deal of time chained to a bed, Jason gets to play the robot Reynart as well, which he does rather convincingly. Reynart is such a noble king that he's a walking clichй, but that is what the script calls for, and on the subject of clichйs Till, Grendel's stereotypical hunchbacked servant, is also worth mentioning even though I can't think of anything clever to say about him. Simon Lack's Zadek and Paul Lavers' Farrah are also well portrayed, as is Lois Baxter's Madame Lamia, a rare example of a henchwoman with motivation, since she is hopelessly in love with the callous and somewhat abusive Grendel. And it is of course Peter Jeffrey as the Count who really steals the show.

Good villains are perhaps more important to me in Doctor Who than good monsters (although the two are of course often combined), and Count Grendel is a really great villain. Charming and ruthless, Grendel is quite superb, as he attempts to manoeuvre himself underneath the crown via every underhand tactic at his disposal, whilst maintaining the appearance of legality to satisfy the easily intimidated Archimandrite and the other nobles of Tara. But this is not a warm and fuzzy villain; Grendel is a real cad, fully prepared to murder Strella, Reynart, and Romana, and threatening to flog Lamia if she does obey him. Jeffrey's dignified performance is perfect, deftly capturing the Count's menace and sense of humour at the same time, and even his considerably tarnished nobility, such as when he refuses to kill the Doctor unless he has a sword in his hand. He alternately seethes with frustration when outwitted and oozes smugness when he has the upper hand. He's devious, cunning and evil through and through, and one of the best villains of the season, if not the entire Williams era. His final line, and his dramatic exit, is entirely in keeping with the part, as he gathers the tattered shreds of his dignity around him and makes a strategic withdrawal to fight another day. 

In summary, 'The Androids of Tara' is an impressive little story and continues Season Sixteen in style. Unfortunately, with the next story the season takes a downward turn, and coming as it does from the pen of my favourite Doctor Who writer, what follows is a considerable disappointment...

Having left behind the quest for the Key to Time, Doctor Who returns to its usual format, as the Doctor's meanderings are left to the randomizer, which promptly returns him to Skaro. The first Dalek story for some considerable time, 'Destiny of the Daleks' should have been a triumphant return for the Doctor's perennial foes, but instead is marred by the unwise decision to resurrect the most successful aspect of their last appearance and a rather half-hearted feel throughout.

The opening scene in the TARDIS is rather at odds with the subsequent tone of the story, as Douglas Adams' script editing makes itself felt with Romana's off-camera regeneration. I generally like Adams' sense of humour, but here it falls rather flat, possibly because Mary Tamm's sudden departure makes recasting her role a work of desperation. Romana's silly regeneration wastes several minutes and fails to be amusing, despite would-be funny lines, such as during the Doctor and Romana's bickering about character versus appearance, and the brief conversation they have from different rooms, during which they both repeatedly mishear one another. This silliness is enhanced by the nonsensical reason used to both remove K9 from the rest of the story so that Terry Nation doesn't have to fret about his creations being humiliated by a robot dog and also to recast its voice later in the season, due to John Leeson's (temporary) departure. The entire scene reeks of contrivance and just doesn't really work, although points are gained for the Doctor's inexplicably hilarious "Oh look, rocks!"

After this dubious opening, the humour is considerably toned down as the story proper begins. And what a pedestrian story it is. Nation should have long ago realized that if his stories are going to have the word "Daleks" in the title, spending the first episode building up to their supposedly dramatic revelation is utterly pointless. Nevertheless, this is what happens. In all fairness, we do have the mysteries of who the pilots of the mysterious spacecraft are and what the zombie like humanoids are doing, but even so the episode feels like it's treading water. Even when the plot starts to develop in Episode Two, there's something very lethargic about the whole thing. I can't help feeling disappointed by the lack of impact that the revelation that the setting is Skaro has on me either. Skaro has in the past been a nightmarish place, from the weird petrified forest and the mutant filled swamps of 'The Mutants', through the cold and unwelcoming Dalek stronghold of 'The Evil of the Daleks', to the depressing war-torn wastelands of 'The Genesis of the Daleks'. Here, it's just a rather scenic grassy place with old and ruined barns lying around and the odd gravel pit. There are half-hearted references to high radiation levels in Episodes One and Two, but after Romana's heart-stopping performance in Episode Two, this is completely forgotten. 

The story only really gathers momentum during Episode Three, with revelations about the Movellans and the return of Davros. Unfortunately, I have issues with both. Whilst I like the look of the Movellans (nice arses in tight spandex) and their spaceship (and the model shot of their spaceship burying itself is quite impressive), they are generally rather unimpressive as a race. Their main problem is that don't seem particularly threatening, and this is painfully obvious in Episode Four; despite the fact that Agella is strong enough to survive being buried under rubble in Episode Two, several of the Movellans are overpowered by slaves who have spent considerable time working for the Daleks under presumably debilitating conditions. Worse still, Commander Sharrel seems to be astonishingly badly damaged by a minor blow in his spaceship, resulting in Romana being able to literally disarm him with a kick near the end. As for the fact that snatching a tube from their belt can deactivate them, it can of course be argued that a Dalek could not do this, but it still renders them less than impressive. They are all acted well enough, Peter Straker's softly spoken Sharrel especially of note, and it's also nice to see a multiracial cast in the series, but as villains they don't have much impact. This might not seem to be a problem given the presence of the programme's most enduring monsters, but due to an unwise development in their characterisation, they too suffer badly…

Terry Nation's decision to restyle the Daleks as total machine creations is a grave mistake. Suddenly, they are a race not of psychopathic blobs in mobile war machines, but a race of robots, slaved to logic. The Daleks have never been a race of logical machines; they have always been paranoid xenophobic sociopaths motivated by a fierce hatred for any species other than themselves. Cunning and ruthless, they have worked because they have been portrayed as Nazis or used as an allegory for the horrors of war. Reducing them to the status of bargain basement Cybermen lessens their potency as a force for evil by a massive degree. It isn't even handled well within the confines of 'Destiny of the Daleks' itself; the Daleks state that self-sacrifice is illogical, but they have a history of doing so when it benefits the race as a whole, and here we see two of them risking themselves to save Davros from the Doctor's explosive device for that very reason (although I would like to point out that their self-sacrifice in order to destroy the Movellan ship doesn't necessarily conflict with this, since Davros orders it and by this point they have agreed to obey him because he can advise irrational actions and thus end their stalemate). In addition, I find it hard to believe that given the urgency of their mission to Skaro, it is really more logical to use humanoid slave labour than more efficient machinery, a point that Romana actually raises. Tenuous logic abounds in Episode Four as the Doctor uses a game of scissors-paper-stone to illustrate the deadlock between the Daleks and the Movellans (and whilst we're on the subject of dubious logic, why do the Movellans need comfy chairs on board their ship? Do they regularly entertain guests?), but as The Discontinuity Guide points out, this is an inappropriate example, since there is no logical advantage to choosing any one of the three options. Ultimately, the Dalek/Movellan impasse is introduced for the sole reason of giving the Daleks an excuse to resurrect Davros. 

Which brings me to the Daleks' insane creator. When I reviewed 'Genesis of the Daleks', I highly praised Davros as a character and described him as one of the finest villains ever to appear in the series. The production team of 'Destiny of the Daleks' clearly agrees with me, since they elect to resurrect him in this, the very next Dalek story. It is arguably a mistake for several reasons. Firstly, Davros' undoing by his own creations at the end of 'Genesis of the Daleks' was entirely appropriate, as in his last moments he realized that he had made them too pitiless ("have mercy!"). After that, bringing him back feels rather gratuitous and in addition the lesson he learned in that final moment is conveniently forgotten as he awakens delighted to see his homicidal progeny and confident that they will obey him. Secondly, he's far less impressive here due to recasting. I feel that David Gooderson is not as bad in the role as some critics have claimed, but he has a very, very hard act to follow and he just doesn't pull it off. His Michael Wisher impersonation works sporadically, but it often sounds like he's trying too hard and it doesn't help that he's wearing a second hand mask that doesn't fit properly. Thirdly, Davros cheapens the Daleks. As a one-off in 'Genesis of the Daleks', this didn't bother me, but his return marks a change in the nature of Dalek stories that remained constant until Big Finish entered the picture. Gone are the scheming manipulators of the black and white Dalek stories, as the Daleks from this point on in the television series are only ever concerned with either obeying Davros or trying to destroy him. The ambitious conquerors of 'The Dalek Invasion of Earth', 'The Daleks' Master Plan', and the 'The Evil of the Daleks' are replaced by watered down petty factions. Most of this will come later, but for now we get blindly obedient Davros henchmen. 

The other most memorable aspect of 'Destiny of the Daleks' is that it introduces Romana's second incarnation, and the chemistry between the two leads results in a much closer relationship between the two Gallifreyans than that which existed between the Doctor and the first Romana. Lalla Ward's performance as Romana is highly endearing, and the character gains a warmth that Tamm's icy incarnation lacked. Ward's Romana also seems more vulnerable, especially when being interrogated by the Daleks for example, but she retains her previous pluckiness as evidenced by her tackling of Sharrel in Episode Four. Tom Baker actually takes his role quite seriously in this story, with much of the humour played down in comparison with the rest of the season, and the Doctor's intense dislike for Davros is palpable, especially when he tries to blow him up in Episode Three. The feeling is clearly mutual, but what is also evident and which works in the story's favour, is the grudging respect they bear each other, each realizing that the other is more than clever enough to solve the impasse between the Daleks and the Movellans. There is even a "let us put aside our differences for a while" moment, which whilst only a pale imitation of the superb scene between the pair in 'Genesis of the Daleks' in which Davros contemplates unleashing a hypothetical virus that would wipe out all life in the universe, is at least an attempt to characterize Davros as more than just an ranting madman. 

Overall, 'Destiny of the Daleks' isn't as crushingly bad as I remembered; it's just very half-hearted and mediocre. The production doesn't really help, with tatty Daleks and a generally drab feel. I also find the presentation of the Dalek city rather dubious, since at first it seems to be deep underground, but later there appear to be windows leading in and out all over the place. This gnaws away at my suspension of disbelief throughout. Some of the supporting cast members further weaken the production; Tim Barlow is rather wooden as Tyssen, but does at least make an effort, but the others are atrocious. Most of the extras used don't even get speaking roles, simply being cast as cannon fodder, but they can't even fall over convincingly and I'm sure that one or two of them start giggling when they get exterminated in Episode Three. In summary, 'Destiny of the Daleks' is a disappointing start to Season Seventeen; fortunately however, what follows next more than makes up for it…

If 'The Talons of Weng-Chiang' can be said the finest example of Philip Hinchcliffe's Doctor Who, then 'City of Death' is Graham Williams' equivalent. Almost perfect in every way, it boasts a great villain, sparkling dialogue, fine acting from the regulars and the guest cast, superb location filming, magnificent sets and even nice model work. 

The plot of 'City of Death' is actually quite complicated for a four-part story. Scaroth's plan to go back in time and change history is enough in itself, but it is interwoven with the sub-plot of his grand art theft scheme, and that common storyline inDoctor Who, an alien who has influenced human development since the dawn of creation. To add an additional, imaginative twist, the alien in question is not a stranded immortal demigod, but instead has been splintered into twelve identical parts throughout history, each living out its life trying to guide human development to such a point that the splinter furthermost foreword in time might have access to time travel technology. The actual time travel plot could be criticized for being inherently flawed, since Scaroth's plan essentially comprises a Grandfather paradox on a massive scale, the actual implications of which are glossed over. The Doctor seems to believe that Scaroth's plan could succeed, thus changing history and negating the existence of life on Earth from the start, and Scaroth seems to understand the consequences of his actions but simply doesn't care. Exactly what would have happened had he succeeded is therefore left to the realms of speculation, but as is often the case with paradoxes, it remains open to debate. The fact that this is not even addressed properly might annoy me in a lesser story, as might the fact that the Doctor, Romana and Duggan can seemingly survive unprotected on Earth before life began, but in a story this good I find that I can cheerfully ignore it. 

Paradoxical or not, Scaroth's intentions, and indeed his predicament, help to make him a well motivated and memorable villain, as he is ultimately driven by a desire to save his people. Understandable, certainly, and potentially even sympathetic, but he is portrayed as such a callous and ruthless individual that any such goodwill towards him quickly evaporates. Perfectly cast as Scaroth is Julian Glover, who brings an air of ruthless charm and charisma to the role with ease. He seems entirely comfortable with the humour inherent throughout 'City of Death', but also plays the part with admirable restraint and thus succeeds in displaying both wit and menace. Whereas some villains have been seemingly baffled or enraged by the Fourth Doctor's calculated buffoonery, Scaroth not only takes it in his stride but seems to see through it; flippancy is met with a quiet smile and calm threats and whilst he often becomes deadly serious, he never once loses his temper. Glover's ability to switch from an air of amused tolerance to one of icy intimidation is so good that he seems entirely natural as Count Scarlioni, most notably when he is bullying Kerenski or threatening Romana with the destruction of Paris. Equally impressive is the fact that Scarlioni and Tancredi, despite literally being the same person, are also subtly different, serving as a reminder that these two splinters of Scaroth whilst inextricably linked have also lived in very different eras, with very different demands upon them. So whereas Scarlioni lives a life of wealthy luxury in the twentieth century and demonstrates all the courtesy and manners befitting his position in society, Captain Tancredi seems to be a rather more ruthless character, surviving in the less civilized Renaissance period. Brief glimpses in Episode Three of other splinters show them in very different times and circumstances, hinting at further need to adapt to specific challenges. It is an subtle but effective piece of story-telling that significantly adds to the character. 

Such an impressive and prominent villain could easily have overshadowed the other supporting characters, but the uniformly excellent guest cast proves more than capable of complementing both Glover and the regulars. Catherine Schell is excellent as the Countess, a willing accomplice in the Count's plot to steal the Mona Lisa, but so blinded by trinkets and luxuries that she has never even begun to suspect that there is more to her husband than meets the eye. This is made all the more plausible by the fact that she seems easily charmed; whilst she displays open hostility towards Romana, she is almost flirtatious with the Doctor, possibly intrigued by the amusing line "you're a beautiful woman, probably". Ultimately, her willingness to be carried along by excitement is her undoing, and for all that she is an accomplice I can't help feeling sorry for her when her beloved Count turns out to a one-eyed spaghetti-faced monster that first ridicules her and then kills her. 

Then there's Theodore Nikolai Kerensky, a stereotypical absent-minded scientist but played with such conviction by David Graham that the character works perfectly, so much so that killing him off to provide a cliffhanger successfully demonstrates just how ruthless Scaroth is, since this is a character we've been allowed to get to know. Like the Countess, Kerensky too is blinded by the Count's promises, in his case promises of great scientific and humanitarian interest. Like the Countess, his benefactor's generosity convinces him not to ask questions since he appreciates the rewards; even so, he must have some inkling of how the Count is able to provide so much money, given that the Count and Hermann discuss the sale of Gutenberg bibles long before Scarlioni resorts to threats to persuade Kerensky to complete his work. Hermann too is an effective character, little more than a henchman, but well characterised as much as is possible; in contrast to his employer, Hermann lacks charm and is just a thug, who it is implied enjoys killing just for the sake of it. His contempt for the Doctor's clowning helps to provide 'City of Death' with an air of at least some realism, unlike at least one later story in the season were virtually every single character contributes to the general silliness that Season Seventeen is renowned for. 

On the side of the Doctor we have Duggan, brought memorably to life by Tom Chadbon, whose air of constant bewilderment provides amusement on one hand and on the other gives the Doctor and Romana somebody to explain the plot to. In addition, his propensity for thumping people emphasizes the Doctor's often-hypocritical attitude to violence, in much the same way that Leela did but in a more humorous fashion (lest we forget, the Doctor knocks out Peter Halliday's guard in Episode Three). Thus, fun is poked at the Doctor's objections to violence by having him chastise Duggan for mishandling a Louis XIV chair, and later breaking a Ming vase over the Countess's head. Later, and after several angry sermons from the Doctor, Duggan gets to save humanity by punching Scaroth on prehistoric Earth, thus delivering "the most important punch in history". But for all that the guest cast is excellent the regulars are even better.

'City of Death' has a reputation for its witty script and great dialogue; it is well deserved. With writer David Agnew actually being Douglas Adams and Graham Williams, the humour is unsurprisingly prominent, but it succeeds admirably. The Count and Countess famously get an exchange in which the she says of the Doctor "I don't think he's as stupid as he seems", to which Scarlioni replies "nobody could be as stupid as he seems", and whilst this is just one example of the humour on show, by far the biggest number of great lines go to the Doctor. Lines like "What a wonderful butler, he's so violent" stand out because the Doctor pratfalls whilst Hermann glowers and the Countess looks on amused. The legendary humour of 'City of Death' ultimately works because for all the wit on display, it's focused on the Doctor and Tom Baker has become so adept at clowning that it always seems in character. His performance here is at its most wonderfully manic, as he strides around Paris with Romana, boggling at the Mona Lisa's lack of eyebrows and accidentally scaring small curators, confuses Duggan, and charms the Countess. The fact that the rest of the cast are so good and don't, generally speaking, clown around, means that this results in an amusing and entertaining performance from Baker which doesn't spread through the rest of the production and make it seem silly. As in Adams' 'The Pirate Planet', when the situation is serious, he makes it clear that the Doctor understands the fact; in the midst of wincing at the guard's cold hands and his flippant responses to Captain Tancredi's questioning, he makes grave asides to himself as he suddenly realises the significance of the explosion of the Jagaroth spaceship. In addition to all of this, the relationship between the Doctor and Romana is also at it's closest, and with K9 left behind in the TARDIS throughout, this becomes even more evident. The early scenes in Paris as the climb the Eiffel Tower and visit the Louvre are quite charming and demonstrate how much the rather antagonistic relationship between the Doctor and Mary Tamm's incarnation has settled down. Romana is also well written for by Adams, suggesting that she is as intelligent as the Doctor but far less experienced and more naпve; unlike the Doctor, she doesn't realize that the Jagaroth spaceship played a role in the genesis of life on Earth.

Overall, 'City of Death' is a marvellous story and a highlight of the era. The Parisian location work is gorgeous, and the astonishingly good sets complement it perfectly; the chateau interiors seldom look like studio sets. The model shots of the Jagaroth spaceship are highly impressive, the incidental score by Dudley Simpson is highly effective, and Michael Hayes' splendid direction brings everything together beautifully. And as if all that weren't enough, we even get amusing cameo by John Cleese. And now for something completely different…

'The Creature From the Pit' has a poor reputation. Notorious for its poor realization of the eponymous creature, its dodgy grasp of the laws of physics and its daft humour, it is often derided and dismissed by fans as being an example of the worst excesses of the Williams era. In fact, it's very entertaining and, depending of course on the viewer's sense of humour, highly amusing. But it is very, very silly. 

After his sublimely witty performance in 'City of Death', Tom Baker continues in much the same vein for 'The Creature From the Pit', getting a large number of humorous lines and generally clowning about. This is evident from the very start, as he readsPeter Rabbit with K9 during a particularly flippant TARDIS scene, and it continues throughout from his glib response to Karela's grave warning that he has been found in the "place of death" onwards. Perhaps most notorious is the scene in which he hangs in the pit from a crampon and fishes out a book entitled Everest in Easy Stages, only to discover that it is written in Tibetan - whereupon he produces a book on learning Tibetan. Daft yes, but also rather funny if the viewer is in the right mood. And so it continues, with the Doctor bursting through Erato's metal barrier in Episode Three, his constant ribbing of Organon, and so on. As in 'City of Death', it works because Baker is seemingly eccentric enough to carry it off without it seeming too unnatural and because of his sense of timing. Also as in 'City of Death', Lalla Ward is called upon to play Romana relatively straight, the only intentionally silly scenes she gets depending on the responses of others (such as when she calls Torvin "hirsute", which I'll come back to later…). This has the benefit of contrasting the different response that Adrasta has to the two of them; she tolerates the Doctor's impudence in Episode One, but slaps Romana when she answers back in Episode Two. The main difference in tone between 'City of Death' and 'The Creature From the Pit' however is that whereas in the former the overtly humorous dialogue was confined largely to the Doctor, here it permeates further, with at least two other characters seemingly intended to provide comic relief. And this has rather mixed results.

There are various examples of humour scattered throughout 'The Creature From the Pit', including former Director Morris Barry's Engineer Tollund's attempt to hide inside his cowl, but most of it falls to Geoffrey Bayldon's Organon and John Bryans' Torvin. Organon is a hugely entertaining character, and serves several purposes, the most obvious of which is to act as a foil for the Doctor; he gets some great lines, most notably "Astrologer extraordinary. Seer to princes and emperors. The future foretold, the past explained, the present… apologized for", and he alternates between worry and indignation beautifully. He also gets to round off the story in suitably daft style by sneaking a look over the Huntsman's shoulder at the trading agreement provided by Erato and then pretending to know what it is due to his skills as an astrologer, which says a great deal about where his real talents lie! Bayldon plays the part well, and in particular I love his indignant reaction to the Doctor's apparent willingness to let Adrasta kill him instead of allowing himself to be blackmailed into ordering K9 to kill Erato. In story terms, he serves another purpose, which is to provide some background detail; he tells the Doctor something of Adrasta's past and reputation, but more importantly he also provides hints of a world more complex than that seen on screen by talking of courts all over Chloris. I noted when I lambasted 'The Armageddon Factor' that making an effort to elaborate on a world's society and history can add much needed depth, and whilst I'm not about to pretend that Chloris comes across as a deep and distinctive society, the token effort made on David Fisher's part is nevertheless appreciated. Further detail is provided by references to Chloris's astrological signs, again adding a light smattering of background detail. In summary, Organon is an entertaining character who is well acted (or at least, acted in a manner suited to the overall tone of the production), and he makes a nice addition. 

Torvin however, is another matter entirely. Bryans' cringe worthy performance is a blatant and thoroughly unsubtle Fagin pastiche and turns the character into a one-dimensional clichй. The role of his group of thieves is presumably to illustrate the social unrest caused both by Adrasta's tyranny and the lack of metal on Chloris, but they are played entirely for laughs, which dilutes this role and is also entirely inappropriate for a band of cut-throats who are seemingly happy to kill people (Romana for example) on a whim. Romana's ability to easily escape from her silly captors does admittedly make her look capable, but she would benefit even more if they actually seemed dangerous; whilst much of the humour in 'The Creature From the Pit' appeals to me, Torvin's baffled question of what "hirsute" means really is just stupid. 

Fortunately however, 'The Creature From the Pit' benefits from a decent villain, who doesn't really need the presence of disgruntled outlaws to emphasize her role. Myra Frances plays Adrasta (one of the series rare female villains and the second to appear in a script by David Fisher) very straight and she comes across as a nasty piece of work. Her motivation, whilst modest (or as the Doctor puts it, petty) is believable; she doesn't want a trading agreement with Tythonus because her current monopoly on Chloris's scant resources of metal is the key to her power. Ruthless, and generally nasty, she is totally unpleasant and as such her rapidly diminishing grip on her power in Episodes Three and Four is hugely satisfying, as the Doctor outwits her and then the Huntsman turns against her before Erato crushes her to death. She also gets a memorably nasty henchwoman in the shape of Karela, played by Eileen Way (previously Old Mother in '100,000BC'), whose equally selfish desire for power brings Chloris closer to destruction in Episode Four. Karela's obsession with power is such that she is entirely willing to face destruction before surrendering, until the Doctor renders her ambitions futile in Episode Four by literally demolishing the basis of her power. 

All of which brings me to the eponymous creature. I love the concept of Erato; having a massive green blob that crushes people turn out to be relatively friendly and misunderstood is a nice idea and is clearly designed to confound the expectations of at least some viewers. Indeed, Erato is generally a very novel idea, from his ability to synthesize metal from his own body, to his need to borrow a larynx to communicate, an unusual idea for the series. Unfortunately, discussion of Erato brings to the story's real weak points. Firstly, a note about the realization of Erato; the model shots of Erato skulking about at the end of a cavern is actually quite good, and complements the generally impressive production values of 'The Creature From the Pit', which include good cave sets and arguably the most convincing jungle set ever to appear in the series (as in 'Planet of Evil', shooting the jungle scenes on film helps). Unfortunately, attempts to show Erato interacting with actual actors results in extremely dodgy realization of the creature as a rubber inflatable, which at one point looks hilariously like a set of knackers. As usually, such poor effects work fails to detract from my enjoyment of the story, but I can't help thinking that the production team should have foreseen the effects of budgetary limitations at the scripting stage. What does detract from my overall enjoyment of the story however is the crass stupidity of the last fifteen or so minutes. For starters, the script initially portrays the Tythonians as intelligent and civilized beings; this being the case, it beggars the question of why, on receiving a distress signal from one of their own, they don't send a rescue party, but instead decide to blow up the entire solar system from which the signal originates. This subplot seems to have been crow barred into the story at the last minute in order to raise the stakes and show the Doctor saving an entire planet rather than just righting a comparatively minor injustice. Secondly, the entire sequence at the end in which the TARDIS holds a neutron star steady whilst Erato spins an aluminium shell around it is just utter bollocks in every respect. Even somebody with the most rudimentary understanding of such things must realize how insanely ludicrous this is; IT'S A NEUTRON STAR!! How could Erato possibly get near enough to it without being crushed, with or without sub-Star Trek tractor beam in place? How can the TARDIS possibly make an object of that mass change direction? Why wrap it in aluminium, which clearly isn't going to reduce its density or mass? Aargh! Suspension of disbelief goes out the window…

Finally, I should just mention K9. Blasphemous thought this might be, I actually prefer David Brierley's vocal performance to John Leeson's, since his haughtier tones are more appropriate to my perception of the often smug robot than Leeson's are. Having said that, he gets K9's voice close enough to Leeson's version so that it isn't hugely noticeable (and for those who do notice, there's always the silly laryngitis issue from 'Destiny of the Daleks' to explain why he sounds different). Having been sidelined for the previous two stories, K9 also gets plenty to do, and as in 'The Pirate Planet' he gets his own opponent in the form of the Wolf Weeds, mobile green tumbleweeds who manage to incapacitate him. The Wolf Weeds are also quite silly, but then that sums up 'The Creature From the Pit'; it is very silly. It's also, for the most part, tremendous fun.

'The Horns of Nimon' seems to be condemned by a large number of fans as one of Doctor Who's nadirs. Notorious for its immense silliness, it is often described as "pantomimesque", critics arguing that it has daft monsters, very cheap looking sets, a villain who is so far over the top he can see the other side, and Tom Baker at his most unrestrained and manic. They are quite correct in all of these things, but it is precisely for these reasons that I adore 'The Horns of Nimon'. 

Under the guiding hand of Douglas Adams, Season Seventeen is rife with silliness, due to the combination of intentional comedy and Tom Baker getting increasingly uncontrollable. Adams used to remark that comedy in Doctor Who should not be an excuse for wheeling out silly walks, but in the case of 'The Horns of Nimon', he was clearly pissing into the wind. But whereas in 'Nightmare of Eden', the comedy and silliness could be intrusive and undermined the otherwise quite serious premise, here the comedy and silliness become more important than the plot. And even if they weren't, the plot involves alien Minotaurs sucking planets dry, a far less weighty storyline than one that revolves around drug dealing. Thus, from the very beginning of Episode One, 'The Horns of Nimon' revels in wit and farce; there are hugely entertaining scenes in the TARDIS with the Doctor, Romana and K9 bickering affectionately, and Baker is at his funniest, whether he is trying unsuccessfully to win over the Co-Pilot with his characteristic flippancy, pinning a rosette on K9 in what he briefly thinks are his final moments, or trying to repair the TARDIS. The Discontinuity Guide lists the "various silly 'boing!' noises" as a goof, but I feel this is missing the point; whilst reeling from these very sounds (which do indeed include "boing!" as well as a car-horn), only a viewer with a heart of stone (or, admittedly, a more sophisticated sense of humour than myself) could fail to be amused by Baker's thoughtful and extremely deadpan "That's very odd". Most of the Doctor's clowning around falls flat in the retelling, but the sight of him giving mouth-to-mouth respiration to K9 sums up Adams' tenure for me, and because of the overall feeling of the story, it amuses, whereas K9' laryngitis in 'Destiny of the Daleks' just irritated me. Later, we have Baker competing with Graham Crowden for most manic performance as he finds his gravitic anomaliser in Soldeed's lab, followed by him Hiding in Plain sight in true pantomime fashion, as he is chased by Sorak's men. Worthy of final note are his pained cry of "Ooh, my gravitic anomaliser!" and his response to the Nimon's "Later, you will be questioned, tortured and killed", which is of course "Well, I hope you get it in the right order!"

I've noted that earlier in the season, most of the humour is confined to the Doctor in 'City of Death', but starts to extend to other characters in both 'The Creature From the Pit' and 'Nightmare of Eden'. In 'The Horns of Nimon', the humour extends to virtually everyone, and is generally handled very well. I continue to find that David Brierley's performance as K9 is more suited to witty dialogue than John Leeson's is, probably just because he sounds haughtier, and his frequently rather prim response to the Doctor in this story demonstrate this very well. Lalla Ward also gets some great lines, and as usual plays her role perfectly straight, which is what she does best; aside from providing a nice counterpoint to Baker's eccentricity, it means that when she does get funny lines, they are more disarming ("He lives in the Power Complex" "That fits!"). It also allows writer (and former script editor) Anthony Read to convey some drama in a story filled with more than its fair share of clowning around, as Romana travels to the doomed planet Crinoth and encounters Sezom. But it isn't even just the regulars who get all the funny bits here…

Malcolm Terris's performance as the Co-Pilot deserves a mention, and since he's so often overlooked, I'm going to take this opportunity to sing his praises. He gets one funny line, which is "Weakling scum!", but he uses it several times, since the Co-Pilot bellows it every time he sees the Anethans. It's utterly daft, but he delivers it with such contempt that is both amusing and convincing. Indeed, Terris manages to make the Co-Pilot seems spectacularly pissed off throughout, as he vents his anger and frustration on the Doctor and Romana in early episodes. Later, on Skonnos, Soldeed overshadows the character before he meets his end in the Power Complex, but Terris really does convey a sense of impotent terror as his character is forced into the Nimon's lair. Michael Osbourne's Sorak is also worth a mention; he doesn't get any particularly memorable lines, and he plays his role fairly straight, but it's worth watching out for the way he looks at Crowden, which not surprisingly suggests that Sorak thinks he's working for a nutter. I'd also like to point out John Bailey's performance as Sezom, but only so that I can note that he last appeared in the series as Victoria Waterfield's late lamented father Edward in 'The Evil of the Daleks'. Sadly, I can't commend either of the main Anethans; Simon Gipps-Kent's Seth is adequate but dull, and Janet Ellis, who plays Teka, is a woman whose work in any medium irritates me to such a degree that it makes me want to smash my television with a hammer and send it to the head of BBC. She's probably a lovely woman, and I have nothing against her personally, I just find her irrationally annoying on television.

This cast rundown naturally enough brings me to Graham Crowden as Soldeed. It's astonishing really that he ever got away with it; it's even more astonishing that he's bloody great. Soldeed is probably the most over the top villain in the entire series, as Crowden rolls his eyes, grins madly, laughs manically in a way that nobody in real life ever would, and generally sends the entire story up. Whereas Lewis Fiander just infuriated me in 'Nightmare of Eden', Crowden just entertains me, whether walking through the Power Complex calling out "Lord Niiimon!", or getting a ridiculously overblown death scene during which he cries out "You fools! You're all doomed! Doomed! Bwa-hah-ha!" Soldeed in fact is arguably the most pantomimesque factor in the entire story and easily the most memorable. Clearly getting the measure of both actor and character, costume designer June Hudson gives him an elaborate affair that boasts a bejeweled collar and a big cloak, although it does rather pale into insignificance next to Sorak's, which needs to be seen to be believed. These elaborate costumes contrast with the rather under-dressed sets, which except for the Nimon's control centre and Soldeed's laboratory, are all rather stark. This should be to the story's detriment, but somehow it contributes to the overall pantomime feel. Perhaps pantomime is the wrong word; the story has the look and feel of a stage production, probably due to its relatively low budget. And if anyone needs convincing of this, go and see a stage performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream and then compare and contrast Bottom's ass head with those used for the Nimons…

I haven't discussed the Nimons yet, but I actually rather like them. After Erato and the Mandrels they seem perfectly at home in Season Seventeen, although they do still look daft, with their big and unconvincing heads, atop the bodies of lanky actors in platform shoes and velvet body stockings. Their rumbling voices are actually quite good, and the fact that they are so much taller than the characters around them allows them to look at least a little imposing. But what the execution lacks, the concept makes up for; the Nimons may be cheap Minotaur rip-offs, but they are nevertheless a race that can suck entire planets dry like intergalactic locusts, whose technology impresses both the Doctor and Romana, and that are capable of engineering and controlling black holes. All in all, that's not bad going. And they are nasty; in such a humorous story, the fact that the Nimons are not used as a source of entertainment but are presented as a menace gives them some impact amongst the frivolous proceedings. 

I'm not going to pretend that 'The Horns of Nimon' is amongst Doctor Who's greatest stories, but it is hugely enjoyable. So many issues that would really annoy me in other stories just don't bother me here because the whole damn thing is just so entertaining. For example, Skonnos is a hugely unconvincing alien world, populated by a handful of extras in a few drab sets. You can mention the civil war if you want, but when the Doctor views the Power Complex from above in Episode Two, there's nothing around it but barren rock! Is it worth the Nimons' effort to invade? Does it seem like an ideal source of food and resources? Really? Well, I don't care, because the story makes me grin so much. As the last broadcast story of Season Seventeen, it isn't perhaps the best swansong that Graham Williams and Douglas Adams could have hoped for, but it does have an end-of-year celebratory feel and it does make me laugh. And besides, it was never meant to be the season finale…

Prior to the explosion of the Internet my only knowledge of 'Shada' came from the episode guide in Peter Haining's book Doctor Who - A Celebration. With only the barest remnant of a plot synopsis, it revealed little of the story, and in those days I had no access to either the script or any other source of information regarding it. Consequently, when Doctor Who Magazineannounced that 'Shada' was to be released on video with linking narration to bridge the missing scenes and a copy of the script, I was hugely excited at the chance to see what was, effectively, a brand new Doctor Who story staring Tom Baker. With 'Shada' thus available, I was finally able to see if it lived up to its legendary status. The question remains therefore, is 'Shada' actually any good?

The answer to this question, at least as far as I am concerned, is yes. I'm not about to pretend that 'Shada' is some great lost classic, because it isn't, but nor is it the turkey that some fans consider it to be. It is however a highly entertaining story that is well worth watching. Intended to be the finale of Season Seventeen, 'Shada' captures many of that season's finest qualities, and feels very much at home in the Williams/Adams era, as might be expected. There is humour aplenty, and great use is made of the regulars. There is an outlandish plot that juxtaposes the familiar with the extraordinary, as highlighted by the characters of Chris and Claire, and there are some fine performances from the guest cast, who are given some sparkling lines to play with. But what I love most of all about 'Shada' is the wealth of concepts that Douglas Adams unleashes from the depths of his fertile imagination. I love the idea of a Cambridge Professor being a retired Time Lord whose TARDIS is disguised as his collage rooms; I love the wonderful silliness of the Doctor convincing Skagra's ship that he is dead; and I love the idea of the Sphere. The Sphere in a particular is a great plot device, a hovering football-sized menace that is virtually indestructible and which steals minds, leaving their owners as mindless zombies. As threats go, I find this far more chilling than the threat of death; instead, the Sphere takes everything that makes a person unique, stealing their entire personality and memories and adding them to Skagra's melting pot of minds as part of his selfish desire to join every intellect in the universe to his own. Visually, the Sphere is bizarrely effective; it is nothing but a matt featureless grey globe, but its abilities and invulnerability make it a potent threat; during the resolution to the Episode Two cliffhanger, the Doctor is only able to escape the Sphere thanks to Romana and K9's timely rescue, and later when K9 attempts to destroy it in an unrecorded scene in Episode Five, it merely multiplies itself from the resulting fragments. With the chase through Cambridge in Episode Two completed thanks to the use of Paintbox to add the Sphere to the picture, this becomes one of the most enduring images of the story. 

The Sphere's creator and master, Skagra, is also of note. As in 'The Pirate Planet' and 'City of Death', Adams creates a villain who is more than just a ranting megalomaniac, although Skagra is perhaps the most megalomaniac of Adams' Doctor Whovillains. Despite his protestations in Episode Five, Skagra does basically want to rule the universe, but his motivation and means of achieving his goal make him rather more interesting than he might otherwise be. Ruthless, arrogant and callous he may be, but an unrecorded conversation with Romana from Episode Four implies that his ultimate aim is to bring productive and meaningless order to what he sees as the random chaos of life in the universe; he later talks of achieving the ultimate aim of evolution, by creating one single godlike universal mind. This is hardly a valid justification for his crimes; as the Doctor points out, Skagra doesn't bother to ask anyone else if they want to join their minds to his, but at least he has more vision than someDoctor Who villains. One of my main sources of regret of 'Shada's incomplete status is that Christopher Neame never got the chance to record all his scenes. Whilst I've heard his performance described as "camp" (a word that seems to be used with little consistency between different fans), my personal opinion is that his recorded scenes demonstrate a cold, rather sinister performance that perfectly fits Skagra's restrained personality throughout the script. He seldom indulges in verbal sparring with the Doctor or Romana, instead seeking to achieve his aims as efficiently as possible, and Neame's intense focus befits this personality very well. Indeed the only time Skagra really loses his composure is during his final scene (which happily, was recorded), as his Ship gleefully imprisons him, having switched her allegiance to the Doctor. Even when Skagra is gloating, his dialogue suggests a very matter of fact, business-like attitude, which perhaps explains why he is so frustrated by what he sees as the wasted opportunity that is life throughout the universe, possibly believing that great things could be achieved if everyone thinks like he does. Besides, Neame manages to look passably sinister in a broad-brimmed hat and silver cloak, which is impressive by anyone's standards, although I think I'd rather wander around Cambridge dressed like that than wearing the corduroy nightmare that he dons later. 

Having discussed Skagra and his Sphere, it is also worth mentioning his other two creations. The Ship is a great character, tricked by computer logic into obeying the "dead" Doctor, despite being highly suspicious about this state of affairs. The fact that she eventually betrays Skagra because she likes what the Doctor has done to her circuits is rather amusing, and typical Adams; it's also refreshing to see a villain hoist by his own petard but left alive, humiliated and defeated, at the end of aDoctor Who story, instead of meeting a more traditionally grisly fate. I also suspect that the Ship is not actually the slave to logic that she claims to be; her treachery in Episode Six suggests that she is a fully fledged personality in her own right, and it would be in keeping with Adams' irreverent sense of humour if she simply went along with the Doctor's daft argument in Episode Three because she was intrigued by him. I'm hypothesizing of course, but if this is the case, it might also suggest that her cutting off of the oxygen supply at the end of Episode Three is born out of a desire to deflate the Doctor's smug satisfaction that he's seemingly outwitted her, rather than because she feels the need to conserve resources. 

Skagra's other creation is the Krargs. If I recall correctly, when 'Shada' was first released on video, the review in Doctor Who Magazine suggested that we be grateful for the fact that only one scene was actually recorded with a Krarg, since it looks terrible. I find this rather amusing, given that Season Seventeen boasts Erato, the Mandrels and the Nimon, and I for one am glad that footage of a Krarg exists. In fact, the cliffhanger to Episode Four, as a burning Krarg advances on the Doctor and Chris is one of my favourites of the season. Whilst the Krarg is not one of the series' finest monsters, it does have a certain unstoppable menace to it that works rather well, despite its flares, and its lack of visible features adds to its ominous air. With K9 often used as a convenient tool by writers to deal with threats to the Doctor, the Krargs serve another purpose, since K9 cannot shoot them without making them stronger and cannot hold them off at all without shooting them. Combined with the Sphere, the Ship, and Doctor Caldera's assessment of Skagra's genius, the Krargs also help to convey just how formidable an opponent Skagra really is. 

Despite the wealth of imaginative concepts that litter 'Shada', not all of them work well. Douglas Adams is renowned for using technobabble to gloss over trivial plot details, but he pushes his luck by actually glossing over explanations for plot developments. The Doctor's survival of the Sphere's attack by convincing it that he is very stupid so that it only takes a copy of his mind doesn't really make sense, nor does Professor Chronotis' impromptu resurrection. On the other hand, the latter means that we get more of Chronotis, which is no bad thing. For one thing, he's a great character; Denis Carey's portrayal of the absent minded old man in Episodes One and Two is thoroughly endearing and allows for some witty dialogue, as he tries to remember what his memory is like ("a sieve!") and makes jokes about undergraduates. Some of this humour misfires, most notably the "One lump or two… sugar?" joke, which doesn't really work, but on the whole these early scenes are a delight. It's particularly nice to see the Doctor's obvious pleasure in seeing his old friend, which Tom Baker demonstrates very well. The Doctor's obvious inability to stay angry at the old man's carelessness in losing The Ancient and Worshipful Law of Gallifrey is rather touching, and his restrained anger when he discovers that Skagra has killed one of his oldest friends is palpable, Baker once more showing off his ability to clearly evoke the Doctor's mercurial personality. In addition however, Carey shows the Professor's hidden complexities; with the sadly unrecorded revelation that he is the notorious criminal Salyavin, Chronotis' occasionally glimpsed darker side is highly significant, and Carey plays it very well. The Professor's absent mindedness vanishes once he realises who Skagra is really after, and he becomes both grave and deadly serious when he is explaining things to Claire. On the other hand, he never becomes scary, which suggests that the Doctor is quite right to believe that the tales of Salyavin's crimes were massively exaggerated, an idea that the final scripted scene amusingly toys with as the Doctor ponders that he might one day be remembered in much the same way. 

From what recorded material exists of 'Shada', it would seem that the acting is quite good throughout. Daniel Hill is great as Arthur Dent prototype Chris Parsons, dragged reluctantly into a baffling set of circumstances that demolish everything he thinks he knows about physics, and he provides an entertaining foil for the Doctor. This is most obvious during the recorded footage from Episode Four, but it is also evident throughout the rest of the script. Victoria Burgoyne also puts in a good effort as Claire Keightly, in a sadly aborted television debut, and I also have to mention Gerald Campion's performance as Wilkin, which adds to the charmingly eccentric air of the Cambridge University scenes. The regulars are also up to their usual standards, and in fact Adams' script shows the Doctor and Romana as close as they ever got, as they relax in a punt on the Cam on a pleasant October day and have tea and biscuits with the Professor. There is also a great scene in Episode Six, when in the midst of worrying about how he can possible stop Skagra, the Doctor is inspired by Romana and pins a medal to her chest, again showing how well they work together as a team. 

As for the production of 'Shada', it stands up reasonably well. The location filming in Cambridge is gorgeous, and whilst the bicycle chase in Episode Two is pure padding, it is more than worth it. The actual sets are variable; the antiquarian clutter of Chronotis's study meshes perfectly with the location work; the interior of Skagra's Ship and the space station are less impressive, but they are perfectly at home in Season Seventeen. This is also true of the model work, completed for the video release, which looks rather cheap but thus suits the era rather well. What does not suit the era however, is Keff McCulloch's incidental music. McCulloch's music doesn't annoy me as much a sit does some fans, who positively detest his work, and on occasion it works quite well here, such as when the Krarg advances to a thunderous crescendo at the climax to Episode Four, but more often than not it is either intrusive or inappropriate. An example of the former is when Skagra first meets Wilkin and arrogantly barks "You!", a conversation that is almost drowned out by McCulloch's score, and an example of the latter is the bizarrely sinister sting added to the "One lump or two" joke in Episode One. On the subject of irritating production details, Chronotis's incredible vanishing spectacles when the Sphere attacks him in Episode Two are oddly distracting. Finally, one last complaint about a scene that was never even filmed! According to popular legend, the prisoners on Shada in Episode Five would have including a Dalek, a Cyberman, and a Zygon. This would, I can assure you, have annoyed me beyond reason. Why would the Time Lords, who time loop planets and dematerialize aggressive alien interlopers, bother to actually imprison a lone Dalek, Cyberman, or Zygon on a planet reserved for, we are told, their "most feared criminals?" 

In summary, I am enormously fond of 'Shada'. Much as I like 'The Horns of Nimon', 'Shada', despite some faults, would have made a much more fitting season finale, and a far better swansong for Graham Williams and Douglas Adams, and I'd much rather it had been the last broadcast six-part Doctor Who story rather than the abysmal 'The Armageddon Factor'. As it stands however, I consider myself fortunate that it was eventually released on video and I will continue to appreciate as far more than just a mere curiosity.