What’s not to love about this story? 

I mean that question with the utmost sincerity. Considering the reputation it seems to have acquired for being stupid, annoying and cringe-worthy, it might be slightly wrong of me to rate this among my personal favourites. Because, damn, it’s good. 

CREATURE FROM THE PIT has it all; Tom, Lalla, crazy astrologers, funky female villains, giant space blobs that crush people, K9 eaten by stampeding plant life… Every moment will bring new joy to your heart, as the Doctor one-liners his way through the episodes with a contempt for authority that would make an anarchist jealous. It may not have the greatest plot ever produced by human endeavour, but since when did anyone watch these things for the plot? The dialogue, the high-camp atmospherics, the sheer FUN of this story is enough to warm the hardest of hearts. 

Yes, the monster looks like a man wearing a bin-bag. Yes, some of the sets are an embarrassment to the word cardboard. Yes, it has K9 in it. And the story doesn’t overcome these flaws. It revels in them. It takes the bad and the good, throws them in a blender and illuminates the resulting mess with a set of disco lights. This is art, people! 

Adrasta is a fantastic villain, utterly fitting to the tone. She may spend most of her time setting up jokes for the Doctor, but she could beat the Rani in a handbag-duel any day of the week. Romana is as worship-worthy as ever, and the Doctor manages to transcend wonderful and become the walking incarnation of cool. The story might lag a little in places, but what it lacks in tension is more than makes up for in wit and enthusiasm. 

It’s also one of the most quotable Doctor Who stories ever. Everything gets a mention in here; teaspoons, astrology, eggshells, aluminium… Priceless, I tell you, priceless. 

OK, so not all the amusing moments are intentional, but why let that detract from the joy? You’ll spend far more time laughing with than at, and it’s not as though CREATURE FROM THE PIT is alone in its dodgy effects and abysmal bit-part actors. This story is all the more enjoyable for its short-comings, and it manages to avoid the expected embarrassment factor by sticking its tongue into its metaphorical cheek and laughing along with the viewer. 

It’s witty, it’s clever, it’s camp, it’s lovable. But above all else, it’s fun. 

If you hate CREATURE FROM THE PIT you’re bad, wrong person. Simple as that.

Although Season 19 is, without a doubt, a very criticized season due to a new young Doctor played by the extremely talented Peter Davison and young companions, Castrovalva is one of those stories that is very enjoyable and not a dark story, like some of Tom Baker's episodes were. The Master returns in this story, evil as usual, and trying to destroy the Doctor, like he always tried before; although he was the reason why the Fourth Doctor regenerated.

Peter Davison portrays all the previous doctors marvelously, especially the Second Doctor. Tegan is actually very mild-mannered in this story, and is written quite well. Adric may seem like he is against the Doctor by setting those traps on the TARDIS, but it is against his will, because it is actually the Master's doing, not his. Nyssa is well written as well, but she tends to show off her knowledge quite a bit. 

When seen, Castrovalva seems like a well-ordered place, and also seems like an actual place as well. But yet again, the Master has something to do with this...he built it using Adrics mathematical skills. 

The Doctor finally regains some of his wits towards the end of Part Three and is able to fight the Master and save Adric. Shardivan gives up his life by helping the Doctor by shattering the web the Master created so that the Doctor is able to jump in and grab Adric. Castrovalva, without the web, falls apart and at the end of the story, we see the Master is trapped...or is he?

This story had good acting by all, and the storyline is very good for Peter Davison's first story as the Doctor. It takes a lot of good acting and skill to replace Tom Baker, but Peter Davison did a wonderful job and he truly deserves the credit which few people do not give him.

After the dramatic demise of the fourth doctor at the Pharos project on earth, there was much speculation on what his replacement would be like and an agonisingly long time in which to do so. Not since the recent abrupt ending of Blake's 7 had a tv show been so exciting. Castrovalva came along, finally, and it exceeded all my expectations by being so wonderfully different from any other dw show I'd previously seen.

The fourth doctor had been a part of my life for so long that he had seemed virtually indestructible. For seven long years it had been jelly babies, scarves and toothy grins, and we still weren't tired of it! But Peter Davison was everything the fourth doctor was not - polite, uncertain about things, generally befuddled, his voice tended to go a bit high when stressed out and I think he used to wag a finger at recalcitrant monsters. In short, a complete change of character and a welcome one. The 1980's were just starting, so why not start them with a new doctor utterly unlike the old one? Splendid! The programme was on a completely new track and I for one was captivated.

The Master came across brilliantly as well in this story, even with Anthony Ainley playing him. He wasn't for once into taking over the universe, there wasn't a doomsday machine or a Chronovore waiting on Castrovalva for him; he purely and simply wanted to destroy the Doctor. Nothing else. It was a marvellous idea, focusing his character on revenge and nothing more. And from Terror of the Autons onwards, the Master had a lot to feel vengeful about.

I loved the simple setting of the town, the cast, the forest scenes, the fact that almost half this story actually takes place within the Tardis itself (another innovative idea not used for some considerable time) and no, at the time I had no idea of the Portreve's real identity. I know it looks bloody obvious now, seeing the thing on video again. So this, the first fifth Doctor story, became my favourite one for a long time, even beating Earthshock as it was so groundbreaking. Brilliant!

I've just watched ‘Marco Polo’ as part of my Who marathon, thanks entirely to Loose Cannon, who have provided a superb recon. I should just note that there are some fans who will insist that a story cannot be judged based on its soundtrack alone, or even a recon – I don’t agree, since the heavy dependence on dialogue of Doctor Who at the time easily allows most of the missing stories to transfer fairly easily to audio, especially with narration or captions to cover the action sequences. However, if anyone out there does stridently insist that I can’t judge an incomplete story without having seen it as first broadcast, then read no further and wait until I get to ‘The Keys of Marinus’.

Anyway, ‘Marco Polo’ is an interesting story for several reasons. Firstly of course, it is the earliest missing story and is completely missing (not even clips survive), which have given it a near-legendary status. This is helped by the fact that the soundtrack has not yet been released on CD and is (at least my experience) harder to get bootleg copies of than the other missing episodes. Secondly, it is the first historical, and also the longest. Finally, as I have noted previously, the relationship between the TARDIS crew members has now been established by the previous three stories, and this allows individual supporting characters to really shine in Doctor Who for the first time. 

‘Marco Polo’ has four major guest characters of note: Marco Polo, Tegana, Ping-Cho, and Kublai Khan. Polo himself is a superb character, essential noble and seemingly keen to gain the friendship of the travelers, for whom he develops respect, but unable to fully do this due to his theft of the TARDIS. Desperate to return home to Venice, he insists on presenting the ship to the Khan to try and negotiate his freedom from service, but in doing so he denies it to the Doctor and his friends. His resolve prevents him from relenting and indeed he does present the TARDIS to the Khan, but he struggles with his conscience throughout, knowing that he has acted unjustly. The problem lies partly with the fact that he doesn’t understand the TARDIS – he believes it is a caravan that flies, but doesn’t understand just how advanced it is, assuming that the Doctor can build a new one and offering to grant the travelers safe passage home. It is this plot device that keeps the Doctor and friends on Cathay, since Polo manages to separate them from the TARDIS as effectively as any lost fluid link, and it makes their troubles greater in many ways В– unable to convey their urgency to Polo, they make frequent attempts to regain the ship, refusing to give Polo, who is otherwise well-disposed towards them, their word that they will not make further such attempts. This places them in a quandary when it becomes clear that Tegana is not all he seems, since Polo cannot fully trust them and is more inclined to believe TeganaВ’s accounts whenever they accuse him of mischief. Ultimately though, Polo returns the TARDIS key to the Doctor in the court of Kublai Khan, during the confusion after Tegana’s defeat. Ian has by this point tried to tell him the whole truth about the TARDIS, to which Polo replies that he if believed Ian he would give them the key back, realizing that the travelers could find no other way home. After the travelers are instrumental in Tegana’s defeat, Polo finally realises that Ian was telling the truth, and gives the Doctor the key beneath the Khan’s very nose; in a story concerned with the theme of going home (the Doctor and his companions, Polo, and Ping-Cho are all motivated by a desire to do so) Polo realises that, even if the Khan will not let him return home to Venice, then at least the travelers can go home. 

Tegana is the first real single villain in Doctor Who – the Daleks are a race of monsters, and Kal and Za’s struggle for leadership and survival is hardly the same as the sort of scheming villain that will recur in Doctor Who. The Warlord Tegana is an excellent villain, cold and ruthless, but cunning enough to hide his true intent (to kill the Khan in the name of his own Lord, Noghai) from Polo at least. Even before we learn of this, he is established as a threat – when the travelers first encounter Polo’s party, it is Tegana that they meet and his is keen to kill these supposed “evil spirits”. Polo saves them, but Tegana threatens them at every turn, responsible as he is for all the various ills that befall PoloВ’s caravan. Derren Nesbitt brings great presence to Tegana, who is a softly spoken, commanding character; he easily convinces Polo that he, and not the travelers, is lying when they try to accuse him of villainy on several occasions, and he convinces Polo to let him ride back for Ian and Ping-Cho, both of whom he intends to kill, despite the TARDIS crew’s and Ping-Cho’s warnings that he is up to something. Tegana is also quick to improvise to cover his actions, casually explaining that he was delayed at the oasis by bandits and easily fending off any suspicions. He is ruthless too, prepared to kill even Ping-Cho, since she is in his way. He also unhesitatingly dispatches his allies, including Acomat, when the need to maintain secrecy arises. Presumably he is also very dedicated, given that he could not reasonably expect to stay alive for long after completing his mission. His penultimate encounter with Polo, when he casually and easily ruins Polo’s hopes of the Khan letting him return to Venice, shows him swiftly discarding his faГ§ade in order to get the Khan alone, at which point he tries his assassination attempt. When Polo out-fights and disarms him, rather than answer to the Khan, he almost definitely commits suicide, impaling himself on a sword – a fitting end for one of Doctor Who’s earliest villains.

Ping-Cho’s importance stems mainly from her friendship with Susan, which draws her to aid the travelers, partly due to their sympathy at her plight – she is being forced to marry a man old enough to be her grandfather. Like the TARDIS crew and Polo, she is keen to return home, but simply to afford marriage – once her husband to be dies, she happily remains in the Khan’s court. It is interesting to speculate that this is also in part due to the influence of Susan’s tales of her travels, which might well have encouraged Ping-Cho to experience the thrills on offer at the court of Kublai Khan. The Khan himself is the fourth guest character of particular note, due largely to his relationship with the Doctor. The two old men, one crippled by gout and the other with a bad back, riding to Peking in the Khan’s state caravan and playing backgammon provide one of the most memorable parts of ‘Marco Polo’ and also demonstrate the first stirrings of comedy in Doctor Who, something which Hartnell had extensive experience of in his previous career and which he is capable of excelling at later in Doctor Who. The Doctor’s first meeting with the Khan, as he reluctantly attempts to kow-tow and his howls of pain prompt the equally-pained Khan to question whether he is being mocked, are played purely for laughs. The later backgammon scenes are also witty, with the Doctor winning an absurdity of prizes but failing to win back the TARDIS – the Khan however tells Polo after the travelers have escaped Peking that he would have won it back at some point anyway. The details make the Khan’s character – he’s the most powerful man in Cathay, but he’s a gout-ridden old man who is henpecked by his wife and is a self-proclaimed bureaucrat. Nevertheless, when facing death at the hands of Tegana, he seems to face it defiantly (as far as I can tell from the recon) and once saved by Polo he coldly informs Tegana that those who oppose him must be humbled and that Tegana must be put to death; interestingly though, he says this in the same way that he says Noglai must be humbled for rising against him, by enforcing harsh conditions of peace. On neither occasion does he seem motivated by revenge as such, but rather by a need to maintain order, suggesting perhaps why he is so well-respected by even the Venetian Polo.

One other interesting thing I realized about watching ‘Marco Polo’ stems from foreknowledge of ‘The Aztecs’ – despite being in a period of history that Ian and Barbara know of from history books, the Doctor at no point that we see warns them not to interfere. Despite this, the TARDIS crew is directly responsible for saving PoloВ’s caravan on two separate occasions, suggesting that had they not been present Kublai Khan would have died at Tegana’s hand. It is possible that the Doctor does not mention this because he does not consider it interference if the course of history as he knows it is maintained, however accidentally; on the other hand, it is interesting to speculate that if history originally ran differently and Noglai came to power, but the Doctor and his companions inadvertently changed its course. Probably not, but the idea did intrigue me. 

Finally, ‘Marco Polo’ owes its legendary reputation in large part to its sets and costumes. Thanks to the recon, we can at least see these even though no clips survive and they are certainly impressive. Although nearly all of the action on screen takes place at way stations and camps due to the lack of location filming which would have perhaps allowed conversations on horseback, the use of Polo’s voice-over and illustrated maps of the journey manage to convey the sense that the Doctor and his companions have been traveling for weeks, which of course is the intention. It works well in creating the illusion of a journey despite the fact that really ‘Marco Polo’ is filmed on only a few sets with no actual traveling on screen. Overall, ‘Marco Polo’ is well deserving of its classic status.

“You will agree to being me… This side of madness or the other.”

Few Doctor Who stories have raised such wild passions for and against them as Kinda. Yes, I was one of those ten-year-olds who helped vote it bottom of Peter Davison’s first season for DWM back in 1982, largely through a vivid last memory of ‘that snake’; at the other end of the spectrum, some fans have announced that anyone who disagrees with their assertion that this is the best Who story ever is an emotional Nazi. I shall leave it to your own judgement any irony involved in people who use ‘Nazi’ to decry those whose precise tastes do not absolutely accord to theirs…

I started a re-evaluation of Kinda through my wobbly audio copy, in those days before video. The old wise woman’s “Wheel turns” speech was quite hypnotic, and so I gradually found myself thinking Kinda was rather interesting – despite one of Uncle Tewwance’s least lively books trying to convince me otherwise. Nowadays, with repeated video viewings, I’ll admit that I can’t see how I ever thought the story worse than Four to Doomsday or Time-Flight, and I’ve got a lot closer to the adoring end of the spectrum than the embarrassed end I used to sit at. But will I go all the way? Well, I don’t think so, though I’ll waver between eight and nine out of ten. Let me explain.

On the whole, Kinda is interesting and refreshing, one of the Who stories with the most ideas, married to one of the Who stories that looks most like a pop video. The Dark Places of the Inside are fantastically imagined and realised, and the ‘time’ sequence is hardly less impressive. Resonantly, the subversive ‘menaces’ of the trees, the ‘primitives’, Hindle, Dukkha and The Dark Places of the Inside or wherever, all combine tantalisingly to disrupt expectations and are carried off brilliantly. 

In the story’s second half, however, and especially after the main hallucinatory effects sequences end, the action-based director and thoughtful script start to work against each other (notably from the blown cliffhanger to part 3 on), particularly as the author’s ideas become less successful. The fourth episode is definitely the weakest, despite quite a strong scene with Hindle’s toy madness and Panna’s consciousness passing on to demonstrate that no-one actually dies in the story (albeit the three ones who went missing…?). Studio floors, technobabble and ‘that snake’ summing up a glib and dull resolution – not to mention interminable Adric / Tegan bitching scenes - make it a curiously uninventive and unimpressive ending. This story is probably best watched as a whole, rather than an episodic let-down. 

I’ve recently taken to watching Who again on an episodic basis. Yes, that’s right – as god intended! As you might expect, with all stories written that way, most of them work much better that way. And it’s become clear that a key reason so many of us disliked Kinda on first watching – other than the shame of (all together now) “that snake” at school the next day – was that this story didn’t. For a few stories where not all the episodes work, the resolution is the killer. Watch a rather good story with a poor part 4 (Paradise Towers or The Creature From the Pit spring to mind to tease you with, or perhaps The Leisure Hive if you want one that fewer people hate so much), and it’s plain that only watching ‘the bad bit’ in one sitting leaves you with a nasty taste in your mouth that wouldn’t be so strong if you’d watched it as a ‘movie’. Watch Kinda episodically, rather than all of a bundle as video encourages you to, and it’s striking that it wasn’t just the increasing sophistication of the viewing fans that has led to Kinda’s shocking turnaround. It was the ‘poor part 4’ effect at work in a devastating way when we first watched it.

Oddly, watching Kinda episodically, I’m also struck that it isn’t a Tegan story at all – more of an Adric story. He has quite a lot to do throughout the whole story (though achieving little, at least he only pretends to side with the villain this time. Clearly Hindle responds to another boy to play with), while her strong role in the first two parts vanishes almost completely later. She is superb when oppressed and then possessed by Dukkha (though an effective ‘rape’ scene apparently unlocking her sensuality is an unpleasantly disturbing message), but her appearance in part 3 is just that. Aris merely steps over her unconscious body at one point, and she neither moves nor speaks in a ‘blink and you’ll miss her’ cameo. As all the companions are buried way down in the cast list to start with, it seems particularly unfair on Matthew Waterhouse that he still gets later (and shared) billing than Janet Fielding for part 3, and that Sarah Sutton gets no billing at all for the middle episodes.

My other reason for recently re-evaluating Kinda is that I’ve now read the book that’s said to be one of its main sources, Ursula Le Guin’s The Word for World is Forest. Now, this isn’t a story that can simply be explained by reference to any one of the mountain of references it makes, whether Judaeo-Christian Garden of Eden symbolism, Buddhist analogies or Vietnam-era sci-fi. However, as the Buddhism’s been written about in great detail, I found comparisons with Le Guin’s book intriguing, and they helped crystallise why I don’t think Kinda is quite as clever as many take it to be – or quite as enjoyable.

Despite some clear similarities in the setup, including a sophisticated sexual division of labour in the ‘primitives’, idiot (‘insane’) colonial military leavened by a sympathetic anthropologist, and dreaming, sophisticated ‘primitives’ (as well as blatant nods like Planet S14 in Kinda for World 41 in the book, Aris’ captive brother for Selver’s enslaved and murdered wife, or ILF – ‘Intelligent Life Form’ – for ‘hilf’ – ‘High Intelligence Life Form’), the story itself has remarkably little in common with The Word For World is Forest. Quite funny that the villain of the book is Captain Davidson, though, as it’s of course the Doctor who enables the snake to enter Eden! Kinda is far less successful in getting across an idea of the local people as sophisticated – with the dubious exception of Panna and the double helix jewellery, it’s merely told, rather than shown. How do they have access to molecular biology? On the face of it, nicking the necklaces from an alien spaceship crashed in the jungle would be more logical an explanation. Shouldn’t we have had some shared dreaming, or something to put the Box of Jhana in context? Instead, *these* ‘primitives’ are really telepathic, which even the Mara correctly notes is a very boring way to communicate. 

Instead of evidence of intelligent thought, the Kinda (surely everyone in this story bar the Doctor, Todd and Panna are just that – ‘children’?) follow Aris like sheep, and flee after a ludicrous attack on the Dome using a TSS-style ‘wicker man’ (instead, Selver’s attacks on the Terrans use their own bombs against them, as well as showing the lethal effectiveness of ‘primitive’ weapons. The Kinda merely appear stupid). Of course, the whole effect is engineered by the Mara to bring about their misery, but instead of a powerful, co-dependent, co-defending (“the dreaming of an unshared mind”) group intelligence, they merely combine into a herd. This is especially obvious in contrast with Aris and Panna / Karuna, who are intelligent and resourceful because they are individuals. The extremely collectivist ideological slant of the story is objectionable both because it isn’t to my personal taste anyway, and because the author’s clear wish to impose it on us has not led him to consider whether it works – in the context of the story, it doesn’t, and it fails even to make an attractive case. It seems not only philosophically disagreeable, but artistically unsuccessful. 

The message that progress is horrid and only leads to destruction, and that people are much better off as happy sheep, is despairingly poor. Even the ‘dangers of progress and exploration’ message of The Green Death, for example (which I rather like), is leavened by the saving grace of individuality. Even that other anti-questioning Buddhist parable, Planet of the Spiders, notices the danger of not having a mind of your own as well as of unrestrained ego. Again unlike The Word For World is Forest, which shows the destructive effect of progress on the Athshean culture, Kinda is a zero-sum game – there has been no effect on the tribe by the end; again, intelligent life is changed by experience, while the Kinda appear like drones. 

Perhaps Christopher Bailey should have read the author’s Introductions to The Word for World is Forest. Le Guin talks of art as the pursuit of liberty, ‘escapist’ from reality into the freedom of imagination. She also warns of the power an artist has over their characters leaching into desire for the power to influence other people. “The desire for power, in the sense of power over others, is what pulls most people off the path of the pursuit of liberty,” she warns, and notes that when artists believe they can do good to other people, they forget about liberty and start to preach. Bailey has failed to heed her warning, and has been “inextricably confusing ideas with opinions”.

‘The Keys of Marinus’ is, in my opinion, the first disappointment in Doctor Who. This is largely because it has enormous promise, which it almost completely fails to live up to. Essentially, ‘The Keys of Marinus’ is a quest. It’s been described in The Discontinuity Guide as a B-movie plot and it is, but the thing it most reminds of is those Fighting Fantasy Adventure gamebooks that Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone made popular. ‘The Keys of Marinus’ has a quest for lost keys, during which our heroes must overcome monsters (the Morphos), traps (in Darrius’s ruined fortress), wolves and icy tunnels, and even (after a fashion) the undead. Consequently, there is little time for plot development, as the TARDIS crew is whisked from place to place on an episodic basis. And therein lies the real shame, because Marinus is actually one of the most interesting alien planets featured in Doctor Who. The reason I say this is simple – Marinus has different races of men, different cities, different environments, and different types of flora and fauna. How many planets in science fiction series end up being represented by one city and a stock set? How many, like Earth, are actually shown to be complex societies with different power blocks, races and religions? The answer I think is very few, even in Doctor Who and especially in, for example, Star Trek. This is usually because of time and budgetary constraints, but occasionally, it really grates. Marinus avoids this, but fails to exploit this advantage. We see the city of Morphoton, and its ghastly ruling brains, but we learn almost nothing about how they managed to take over in the first place. We see men frozen in ice reanimated to protect one of the keys, but get no explanation as to how this is achieved – they act like zombies for the most part, but one of them screams horribly when he falls down a crevasse. And then there are the Voords.

We learn almost nothing of the Voords. They are often referred to as “the alien Voord” presumably because of the blurb on the back cover of the Target Novelisation, but as far as I can tell, they are actually another race of the humanoid population of Marinus. All we know about them is that Yartek is well over one thousand years old, but then in episode six it is suggested that Arbitan invented the Conscience, so he’s two thousand years old, which doesn’t support Yartek being a different species. Also in episode six, Stephen Dartnell’s very human eyes and mouth can be seen through Yartek’s mask, which is probably unintentional, but doesn’t lend credence to the alien Voords theory. In fact, the only tenuous evidence is that Yartek at one point refers to the other Voords as his creatures, but that could mean several things. 

The other main issue I take with ‘The Keys of Marinus’ is to do with the Conscience, which is basically a brain washing machine. With his increasing moral stance following the events of the first three Doctor Who stories, much could have been made of this, especially since he only agrees to collect the keys under duress, when he and his companions are denied access to the TARDIS. Instead, we get a warm and fuzzy feeling towards Arbitan as soon as the travelers are ready to return to his island, and a throwaway line from the Doctor about man not being meant to be controlled by machines. 

We also have the first big plot-hole in Doctor Who, in episode two – Barbara, arriving in the City of Morphoton seconds before the others, somehow has time to have a dress made, get to know Altos, and learn about the city. This is a pretty gaping flaw. 

Despite all of this, I can’t totally condemn ‘The Keys of Marinus’ – it has redeeming features. Firstly, the regulars really give it their all, resulting in convincing acting throughout (and thus making up for Arbitan’s gurning in episode one). Susan, who I have always loathed, is actually fairing better during my Who marathon than I would have expected from memory – here she still has bouts of irritating hysteria, but is brave enough to struggle across the ice bridge to save herself and her friends, although she is admittedly galvanized into doing so by the threat of the ice soldiers. Later, when she is held prisoner in Millennius, she looks terrified, but manages not to turn into a complete gibbering wreck. The Doctor comes over very well in ‘The Keys of Marinus’ – we saw the TARDIS crew acting like a team in ‘Marco Polo’, but here he really shows how much he has come to like Ian and Barbara, entrusting Susan to their care without hesitation, and showing real concern when he is trying to overturn the charges against Ian. The scenes in Millennius are generally pretty good, with sound acting from all concerned and a reasonable plot, although the unmasking of the real criminals does depend on stupidity on their behalf, falling for bluffs and giving themselves away through verbal slips – something of a clichй. Ian and Barbara also get yet another chance to shine, due to Hartnell’s absence during episodes three and four – Ian is at his most resourceful, and Barbara also demonstrates courage, especially in light of the rather disturbing hint that Vasor intends to rape her. Interestingly, she notes at one point that Ian treats her like Dresden China and she finds it annoying, but notice how she smiles gently after him as she says this, and contrast it with her genuine annoyance in ‘The Daleks’ when Ganatus asks her if she always does what Ian tells her to. This is a clear sign that they are getting closer. 

Overall, the part of me that used to like Fighting Fantasy books does still quite like ‘The Keys of Marinus’, and I can’t totally condemn it. Sadly, I can’t totally recommend it either, but it passes quite quickly and is, for the most part, an enjoyable if lightweight romp. But the lost potential really frustrates me, and if any authors out there fancy writing a sequel, which revisits Marinus, I for one would buy it.