Behind the Sofa - The Collaborative Doctor Who Blog

Kiddie Fiddling

I haven't got enough time to review each and every episode of this week's Torchwood marathon. I've still got my head in the clouds and I spend most of my spare time these days getting Kilimanjaro out of my system. However, after spending two years kicking sand in Torchwood's face, it seems churlish not to post a short review now that the show has actually delivered something impressive.

Children of Earth: Day One

Let's skip to the chase: the scene of the possessed children in the school playgrounds is bloody brilliant. It has a classic feel to it even though it was only broadcast a few hours ago. Is that even possible? The decision is focus on one girl's face in particular (see right) was a masterstroke; there's an oddness to that image that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I firmly believe that it's one of the best, and most iconic, moments that either Torchwood or Doctor Who have delivered this century. Frank has already mentioned the Wyndham and Quatermass connections in his (much better) review, but finally, here we have a moment in our franchise that truly deserves to be uttered in the same breath as the all-time greats.

The new fat-free Torchwood seem perfectly suited to deal with this inexplicable "weirdness of the week" (they've stopped bickering and have become semi-professional between seasons) but the big twist this week (the whole week!) is that the threat is global rather than Welsh, and therefore the big boys have sat up and taken notice. Under normal circumstances we might have seen Jack high-tailing it to help the Doctor and UNIT sort this mess out, while Ianto and Gwen sat back and quipped over coffee, but because the British government are somehow culpable in this abhorrent freakery, Torchwood discover that they are nothing more than an expendable "pain in the arse". What's even better is that they don't realise this until its far too late.

It's hard not to root for the bad guys (C19, perhaps?) who demonstrated quite a bit of panache in their nefarious schemes. I applaud their decision to stick a bomb in Jack's chest before allowing him to return to the hub to detonate it but why would they want to blow up all of Torchwood's alien technology? Isn't that throwing the baby out with the bathwater? I guess that the "blank page" refers to absolutely everything related to Jack, no matter how handy it might be in a future invasion (which happen practically every other week now, remember). Still, it came as something of a shock to go from a plot about Torchwood swelling its ranks, ready for season 4, to a scene where everything is completely and utterly destroyed. I just hope Terry the Pterodactyl got out alive...

But wouldn't it be marvellous if we only saw Captain Jack as a hideously disfigured face in a jar from now on? Or as someone on Twitter put it, The Face of Boe: The Wonder Years. If Jack can magically reconstitute himself from a million different pieces then his invulnerability will go from the vampiric to the godlike - literally overnight. At least you could decapitate Spike and Angel.

It might sound silly but I'm only really happy when Torchwood are being set upon like this. It's hard for me to feel much empathy for a team of smug, wise-cracking ghostbusters (unless, of course, I'm watching Ghostbusters) and while Jack and Ianto's "coupling" subplot is just asking for trouble, Gwen's pregnancy only serves one purpose as far as I can tell: so we care whether she lives or dies. Because before she has this news confirmed - via a flatbed scanner (?) - it really is difficult to warm to a character who is permanently stuck on the "kooky" setting (like Jo Grant but without the naivety). Her "grooming" of Rupesh drove me to despair and she appears to be channeling Nessa from Gavin and Stacey more than usual.

Thankfully, the supporting cast are, without exception, wonderful. Peter Copely is good in practically everything, Nicholas Farrell was great as Bill Nighy playing the Prime Minister, and Katy Wix as Ianto's sister was strangely alluring. And while it's decidedly odd watching Peter Capaldi striding around Whitehall without yelling obscenities ("tell the ****ing 456 that I can count to ****ing 10, the ****s!"), the guilt-ridden civil servant Frobisher is a fascinating creation. Charles Abomeli's universe-weary Colonel Oduya is an absolute hoot, too, and he should be the permanent face of UNIT from now on.

However, you have to admit there's a serious problem when the best thing about your show is practically everything except but the main characters.

There have been some complaints about the show's pacing and gratuitous padding in some quarters (is this so the overseas market can trim the fat when they broadcast it with commercials?) but I like the fact that the show isn't in a hurry to spill its beans. It just adds to the 1970s conspiracy thriller vibe.

Which reminds me, Euro Lynn's direction is superb. Somebody really should give this chap a big-screen feature film to direct...

Anyway, it's all very intriguing. Who are the 456? What kind of weird deal did the British make with them back in 1965? DId we actually trade technology for children!? Is this how the British Space Programme reached Mars in the early 1970s? Naughty, naughty.

And while the plot is littered with things that either don't make sense or are contrived to the point of being bizarre - the nurse filming Clement's fit and emailing it to the police (not Sky News?) seemed a little desperate - I have to confess that I was really impressed with Children of Earth's opening salvo. Believe it or not, I'm actually excited about watching the next installment in a few hours time.

Finally, here is a show that lives up to its (admittedly daft) premise. Can it keep it up?

Sponsor a Doctor Who fan to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro - UPDATED!

UPDATE: now with added Rula Lenska Appeal and extended to June 4th...

Regular listeners to Tachyon TV and readers of this blog will almost certainly know about my Kilimanjaro Challenge next month but if you don't please click here for more details. A while back I mentioned something vague about a Doctor Who charity auction. Well, here it is. Many, many thanks to everyone who contributed something. You're all brilliant.

I had originally intended to use this auction to make one last push towards my fund raising target but late last night a Radio Free Skaro listener made a massive contribution which sent us over our £3000 target. However fantastic that is - and it is bloody fantastic - there's nothing stopping us smashing that target to bits. And with your help we can.

How this works:

The good news (or bad, depending on how tight you are) is that even if your bid fails then your money still goes to charity. That's right, everyone's a winner; especially UNICEF.

If you wish to bid you'll need to donate some cash to my climb. You can do this with any debit card, credit card or paypal. If you are a UK taxpayer you can use Gift Aid to donate an another 25% at no extra charge! All the money goes directly to UNICEF - none of it goes towards the funding of my expedition. Which is a shame because it's almost bankrupted me.

Anyway, when you make your donation you'll be asked to leave a short message. All you have to do is put the following code in brackets somewhere in this message when you make your bid so I will know which item you want.

Here are items and codes:

• Scream of the Shalka novel signed by Paul Cornell (BTS1) - minimum bid £20
• British Summertime novel signed by Paul Cornell (BTS2) - minimum bid £15
• Martha's Story signed by Rob Shearman with personal message (BTS3) - minimum bid £20
• The Kingmaker Big Finish CD signed by Nev Fountain with personal message (BTS4) - minimum bid £20
• Signed 10x8 photograph of Mary Tamm which has been mentioned on many TTV podcasts over the years! (BTS5) - minimum bid £10
• A Christmas Treasury Short Story Collection signed by me because I contributed to it. My story isn't very good but all the other stories are great! (BTS6) - minimum bid £15
• Signed 10x8 photograph of Kate O'Mara (BTS7) - minimum bid £5
• Signed 10x8 photograph of Jacqueline Pearce from The Two Doctors (BTS8) - minimum bid £5
• Signed 10x8 photograpgh of Bernard Horsfall from The War Games (BTS9) minimum bid £5
• Signed 10x8 photograph of Frank Windsor from Ghost Light (BTS10) - minimum bid £5
• Signed 10x8 photograph of Michael (not actually in TV Dr Who) Praed from Dynasty (BTS11) - minimum bid £5
• NEW! - The Nightmare Fair novel signed by Nicola Bryant with personal message (BTS12) - minimum bid £15

You can put multiple codes in your message if you are happy to win something from a selection of items, for example "BTS1-6" or "BTS1, 4, 6"  or BTSALL if you aren't bothered what you get and put the numbers in order of preference if you like.

UPDATE: The closing date for bids is Thursday 4th June at 7pm GMT. The highest bid made at that time for each reference number wins.

I will announce the results on here shortly after that.

PLEASE BID HERE

Many thanks to everyone who has supported me so far and happy bidding! Please use the comments section below if you have any questions...

Cheers

Neil

Cold Sore

Attack of the Cybermen

Released: 16th March 2009

Produced by 2Entertain

I would love to fly in the face of conventional wisdom and tell you that Attack of the Cybermen is a neglected classic, but I can't. It's shit. 

Now, I could bang on about how the plot doesn't hang together; how the continuity laden script is completely at odds with the design (couldn't they afford a stencil?); how the Doctor suddenly has an arch enemy that he's never really met before (how does he even know Lytton's name?); how most of the running time is spent listening to muffled Cybermen commenting endlessly on their inability to attack anything, or how they can now be taken out with shovels (and not even gold shovels!); how the incidental music sounds like an outtake from Fingerbobs; how the Doctor is a smug, patronising git and how Colin Baker doesn't help matters when he falls over with all the finesse of a break-dancing clown; how the Cryons make the Sensorites look impressive, or how the TARDIS transforms itself into two of the most boring objects imaginable. That don't even have any doors.

But I won't.

Instead I'll try to dwell on the positives. Namely, Maurice Colbourne and Brian Glover as Lytton and Griffiths. Why they didn't get their own spin-off is beyond me. Who wouldn't want to watch a 26-part series featuring this pair of reprobates robbing diamond merchants and high-tech military installations, bickering at each other as they try to evade the Old Bill and UNIT, before settling down for a nice, warm pint in The Winchester Club each night? But since this is a Paula Moore script, everyone dies. Which is a shame.

They'd have to ditch Malcolm Clarke's Theme for Lytton and Griffiths, though. Even Waterman couldn't have hummed along to that. Incredibly, there's a isolated score on this DVD, and while the Cyberman March from Earthshock never fails to raise a smile, the rest of Clarke's output is all over the shop, ranging from cheap gags (JS Bach collides with Steptoe and Son) to twee, irritating arpeggios and the obligatory atonal clanging that would have put Test Dept to shame.

Aural rape aside, the first episode is actually quite good. It's nicely lit for a start. But when we leave the atmospheric sewers of London for the over-lit tombs of Telos (think post-apocalyptic Beejams) it doesn't take long for the ennui to set in. The hero is unlikable, the companion doesn't stop whining, the villains take ineptitude to dizzying new heights and the convoluted plot gives you a headache. And since I didn't bother to watch this mess when it originally went out, I can't even lean on the crutch of nostalgia to help me through it.

And finally, isn't treating Lytton's death as if it's in the same league as wiping out the Silurians a bit rich? As much as I love the scoundrel, did Lytton really redeem himself just because he was working for an oppressed race of ballet dancers instead of a bunch of Nazis? Surely he's just a equal-opportunity bastard?

Extras

No matter how "bad" the story might be, the extras are usually worth the price of admission alone and, thankfully, Attack is no exception.

Kicking things off is The Cold War, a nicely produced making-of documentary that features interviews with Colin Baker, Nicola Bryant, Terry Molloy, Eric Saward, Ian Levine, Sarah Berger and director Matthew Robinson. Well paced and thoroughly researched it covers every aspect of the production in a fair amount of detail; it even managed to surprise me a few times (I honestly had no idea that Griffiths was almost played by *spoiler*). What I don't understand is why anyone would want to take the credit for writing Attack of the Cybermen. Why don't Levine and Saward pin the blame on Paula Moore/Woolsey/Lucan - a woman who seems to have dropped off the face of the planet and who's only known photograph resembles something from Crimewatch - instead of fighting over its authorship? Take the alibi and run with it, you fools! In fact, everyone concerned seems very proud of this story and while there is a token nod towards the perceived wisdom I alluded to at the beginning of my review, it's dismissed out of hand by the culprits.

Next up is The Cyber Story, an illustrated history of the silver giants from The Tenth Planet to the Tenth Doctor. While it probably won't tell you anything you don't already know, it's imaginatively presented with some very slick graphics and impressive CGI titles. Sandra Reid, designer of the original Cybermen is great value and the ongoing discussion about the design of the monsters over the years is handled particularly well. It only falls apart with the introduction of a weird coda that features Professor Kevin Warwick, the world's first cyborg. Which isn't as sexy as it sounds. Here is a scientist who has managed to secure the funding required to fire electrodes into his brain so he can control things via the internet. Which means that one day we'll be all Cybermen. Probably.

This is all well and good but does this man really deserve another extra all to himself? And an Easter Egg? Is there no end to this man's talents? He's building an army of evil skeleton robots, you mark my words. He's our version of Tobias Vaughan. I can imagine him drawling 'Packer' in that strangely hypnotic drone of his. According to Warwick, it's a small step from controlling an iPod with your eyebrows to talking like Roy Skelton in a depopulated world of the future. Hasn't it occurred to him to stop his research before its too late? Hasn't he learned anything from watching Doctor Who?

Back on topic, The Cyber-Generations is a montage of stills from every classic Cyber-story set to music. I thought I'd dismiss this out of hand, but the quality of the images, coupled with some truly great Cyber-themes (I can't stop doing it now), made for a pleasant trip down memory lane. It's a bit like distilling the history of the late twentieth century down into silver foil and synthesisers, as well as a great primer for the wife. Having recently purchased 3 out of 4 of the classic series Cybermen figures I only needed one more to complete the set (and the Controller from Tomb of the Cybermen to boot) and when I knew she was planning to go to Tesco (which occasionally resembles a branch of Forbidden Planet) I told her which one to look out for. She exclaimed, "Cybermen all look the same to me". Unbelievable.

If that lot isn't enough, there's also an above-average audio commentary that features Baker and Bryant in very good spirits, with Terry Molloy and Sarah Berger providing ample support on episodes 1 and 2 respectively. It bubbles along quite nicely and Colin admits that Gangsters is one of his favourite TV shows of all time (here! here!), he reveals that Telos now contains all of his household's waste, and he laughs at Michael Kilgarriff as the Fat Controller (there, I've said it). Who knows, maybe the new production team will invite an actor back to maintain continuity even if he's turned into a bit of a porker? It can happen.

Rounding things off are the Radio Times listings, the continuity trails (more arpeggios!), production notes, a photo gallery, and a pant-wettingly scary trailer for Image of the Fendahl.

It's out on Monday.

Doctor Who Charity Auction

As you may already know I am planning to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in June in support of UNICEF.

One of my fundraising ideas is to hold an online auction with all the proceeds going directly to the charity:

http://www.justgiving.com/neilandpalma

Given that my Who-related web sites (Tachyon TV and Behind the Sofa) have a substantial audience it seemed like a good idea to make it a Dr Who themed auction - and this is where you come in as I am hoping to use my - albeit limited - Dr Who connections to make this dream a reality.

If you would like to help me out I would be looking for a unique, special, signed or rare items that you can bear to part with in the name of a good cause. Anything and everything helps.

In addition, if you could possibly pass this message onto anyone else in the world of Who that you may know who might like to take part that would be fantastic too.

If you think you can help out please send me an email letting me know what you would be prepared to give. If anyone else you know would like to help out please ask them to contact me on:

neil.perryman@gmail.com

I'm happy to take flags and items to the summit with me if that helps! ;-)

Thanks for your time

Neil

Care to Comment?

You have probably noticed that there have been some changes to the way this blog operates, specifically when leaving comments.

The reason for this is long and complicated. The short version is that we are fiddling about with some options and as a result the blog may be in a state of flux until we settle down. However, you will need to sign up to Typepad to leave comments. It's free. Stop worrying.

Anyway, if you are interested, I will outline some of the changes in more detail after the jump...

Chin! Chin! It's The Eleventh Doctor!

Who saw that coming? Unless you've been watching Betfair all day.

So what's the verdict?

Who's Next?

The BBC will announce tomorrow evening at 5:35pm, during a special edition of Doctor Who Confidential on BBC1, the identity of the actor who will take over the TARDIS in 2010.

So here's your last chance to make any predictions before the news breaks and fandom turns into an embarrassing shambles once again. Will it be Paterson Joseph? Chiwetel Ejiofor? James Nesbit? Jennifer Saunders? Harry Hill? Some bloke out of Hollyoaks? Place your bets now...

Robots in Disgust

Doctor Who: The Next Doctor

This isn't just Doctor Who, this is lowest common denominator Doctor Who...

The most infuriating thing about The Next Doctor is that it takes a brilliant idea and then it casually tosses it away in favour of the safest and dullest alternative imaginable. Here was Russell's chance to take the multi-doctor formula and really have some fun with it; it's as if Time Crash had been designed to prime a new audience for just this kind of eventuality, and the future incarnation twist would have been a fascinating and original avenue for the show to explore. Or how about a parallel universe Doctor chasing down some marooned Cybermen and clashing with our Doctor and his way of doing things? In fact, any other explanation for November's teaser that you could care to mention would have been more more interesting than what we eventually ended up with: socks. For the third Christmas running Russell has given us socks.

Sometimes he breaks my heart.

The mystery of Morrissey's character is undermined from the very beginning; as soon as he opens his mouth to be precise. His costume left plenty of wriggle room but his Dickensian vernacular immediately gives him away; it would have been too much of a coincidence (even for Russell) if this incarnation of the Doctor just happened to be hanging around Victorian London when we stumble across him. That would be like David Tennant swanning about contemporary London most of the time. Er...

But if that was too subtle for you don't worry, there's always the "sonic" screwdriver to ram home the fact that he isn't really a time lord. And if that sailed over your egg-nogged noggin perhaps you finally twigged when Rosita turned out to be a contemporaneous companion. Then again, it's hardly worth the effort of playing along with this halfhearted mystery because they spill the beans inside the first 20 minutes and then explain it away five minutes after that. And guess what? Yes, that's right: he isn't the Doctor after all! A cop-out explanation on Doctor Who, who'd have thunk it? He is, in fact, a blubbering, whining ponce who cries a lot. But enough of that, here's Murray Gold with some comedy oomp-pah-pah music.

The Cybershades made the Taran Wood Beast look like the Cloverfield monster...

OK. Fair enough. It was inevitable that he wasn't going to be the 11th, 12th or even the 34th incarnation of our hero (I suppose), but of all the reasons Russell could come up for Jackson's warped state of mind he reaches for the most ridiculous contrivance possible: the poor man was mind-wiped by the Dalek's Doctor Who DVD collection that the Cybermen stole just before a reality bomb tore down the walls of the voidiverse and they fell through time to our planet in 1851 where they proceed to build a giant robot under the Thames with the help of some street urchins and a bitter and twisted prostitute. WTF???

It's so badly executed I tried to convince myself that it was just clever misdirection; Russell did promise a "huge plot twist" and he never lies. Maybe this would all turn out to be an ingenious double-bluff and a final, gut-punching revelation would at least whet my appetite for the 2009 specials. But it wasn't to be; these socks didn't hide some jewel-encrusted cuff links within their folds, they were just full of holes.

Spare a thought for the poor old Cybermen who come out of this incoherent mess looking like complete dolts. Just what the hell were they doing anyway? Did they steal the Dalek's copy of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom when they ran off with their info-stamp collection? Or did John Barrowman have a special deal going with a job-lot of Oliver rejects? And just what was the deal with the Cybershades? They were so preposterous they managed to make the Taran Wood Beast look like the monster from Cloverfield. I know there's a credit crunch but I could have knocked up something better in my garage. Especially now that voice-changer helmets are on sale in Woolworths.

David Morrissey was disappointing. I'm a big fan of the actor (One Summer, Holding On, State of Play and The Deal are some of the best dramas ever produced for television, largely thanks to him) and I tipped him for the role of the Doctor back in 2003. But he's completely wasted here. His "Doctor" is pure pastiche and his "real" persona is a sniveling jerk who doesn't even get to save the day in his own episode. He manages to crack the caps on some info-stamps but that's about it. He doesn't even get to fly in his own sodding balloon or rescue his own kid! How poor was that? Then again how useful could he have been against a giant robot sloshing around in the Thames. Yes, a giant f***ing robot.

Remember the winter of '75 when Tom Baker battled a giant robot? It looked terrible, didn't it? But at least it made sense In the context of the story, in so much as the robot didn't mysteriously turn up in the last 10 minutes. This time the giant robot in question looked magnificent (I'm told that the Managing Director of Character Options creamed himself at precisely the same moment that Ted Hughes started to revolve in his grave) but it made no sense whatsoever. Normally you can let this kind of stuff slide but its appearance is so incongruous and so f***ing stupid the Doctor tries to explain it away as a giant space ship! As if that somehow makes it better!

Exactly how bloody voidy is this so-called void?

Let me get this straight... the Cybermen from the parallel universe - you know, the one where they don't come from Telos or Mondas but are in fact a bunch of converted chavs and vagrants from Guildford - have developed a fleet of battleships called Cyberkings that walk about on two legs and look like a cross between The Iron Giant and The Power Rangers with just a hint of MechaGodzilla thrown in for good measure. And when did that happen, exactly? Did the Cybermen develop them in the void? And if they did, how bloody voidy is this so-called void, anyway? Do they have shops? Factories? Solid surfaces? I don't know about you lot but I thought the void was a terrible place where the Daleks and the Cybermen floated about endlessly in a vast, empty nothingness. Turns out they've been developing giant robots, putting together extensively researched Wikipedia info-stamps for every possible contingency and generally having a whale of a time. So how did the Doctor know about these Transfor-- er, Cyberkings given that they were trapped in a universe that's, ahem, impossible to access? Unless the "real" Cybermen developed the stupid things, in which case how did the parallel ones know about them?

Or maybe - just maybe - the Daleks planted some duff info about a fleet of Cyberkings in a dodgy info-stamp to see if the daft bastards would fall for it. Either that or they inadvertently mixed up their blueprints with the video to the Beastie Boy's Intergalactic which they stored on an mp3 player that looks like a 16 inch vibrator. It could happen. Especially when the read-through is due to take place tomorrow and it's 2am already... Tut, tut, Russell.

Maybe I'm being too harsh. There are some enjoyable moments to savour: the Cybermen stomping through the snow felt iconic, the brainwashed workhouse goons were suitably terrifying, the flashback was rather pleasant (and so JNT it's scary) but it was the deliciously innuendo-strewn performance from Dervla Kirwan as Miss Hartigan that simultaneously stole and saved the show for me. She managed to exude menace, style, wit and a Palinesque sexiness (that's Sarah, not Michael, just in case you're wondering) that felt just right - and so very wrong.  She's has to be one of the most memorable and fruity villains we've ever seen on this show (which is really saying something) and I even bought her last-minute stab at redemption. I mean, bloody women. I'm not entirely sure what it was she was trying to accomplish but good on her for trying.

I know that I should be grateful for these socks. It's the thought that counts and all that. And they are a very well-made pair of socks that occassionally feel very comfortable indeed, but they are still just a pair of socks at the end of the day. And that huge, glittering box with the gold leaf ribbon on top promised so much...

The Wrath of Kaagh

Sarah Jane Adventures: The Last Sontaran

Hooray! My favourite franchise flavour is back.

I love The Sarah Jane Adventures. It may be a guilty pleasure ("Why are you setting a Sky series link for something on CBBC?" asks the wife, as if I've suddenly gone a little bit Langham), but I can't help myself; even if the fact that I have to set a series link in order to a capture a raw slice of Doctor Who while I'm still at work leaves me feeling old and miserable.

Honestly, the kids of today don't know how lucky they are. What economic crisis? It's wall-to-wall Doctor Who even when the show is supposed to be having a lie-down! We had to endure Dramarama and Rentaghost and those godawful Tomorrow People back when we were kids. Just imagine if we'd got The Further Adventures of Harry Sullivan or Romana in E-Space. Or maybe even UNIT: The Series, which we would have watched on the stairs, through a crack in the door, because it was post-watershed and always featured some tits. Please insert your own joke here.

The yoof of today get continuity porn!

Seriously, the yoof of today even get continuity porn! Did we ever get that level of intertextuality in our tea-time telly? Did we f**k! Our 'playpen' consisted of the odd comic strip, the novelisations, some vaguely surreal annuals, those Viewmaster slides, a Gareth Hunt doll and some stories that literally unfolded on chocolate wrappers. Today's generation get multi-platform books (whatever the hell they are), spin-offs that seamlessly bleed into each other, podcasts, instant extras, action figures, trading cards, ringtones and lots of other stuff that I simply CAN'T KEEP UP WITH! But the really scary thing is this: if some of us grew up to be continuity obsessed freaks with only one programme and limited ephemera to keep up with, how on earth will the next generation turn out? It's a scary thought.

But what of the episode itself, I hear you sigh.

Phil Ford's script was... well, for starters, was it Phil Ford's script? I just don't know anymore; I'm still reeling from that section in The Writer's Tale where Russell re-writes James Moran's opening to The Fires of Pompeii and approximately 2 lines out of 30 survive. God knows what happens when you actually co-write a script with him. Perhaps you get the odd "the" and a couple of ...'s. If you're lucky. And if you have any doubts about Russell's involvement in this story, a character actually utters the immortal line "Let's go down to Goblin's Copse". 'Nuff said.

But whoever was responsible, this was great fun. Sladen is becoming more and more Doctorish with every passing episode and her stand-off with Kaagh was delightful. The only kiss to the past that was sorely missing was a shot of her wobbling thorax as she gasped "Linx!" Oh well.

The kids are alright, too. Young Martin Fowler is still as adorable as ever, and while Clyde's banter occassionally threatens to undermine any menace (his japes will end in tears one of these days) he always manages to steal every scene he's in. Even Mr Smith's new personality (he finally has one) bodes well for the future.

But poor Maria Jackson. It must have been a bloody good job offer, that's all I can say. Perhaps the tax breaks and health care cover were more appealing than the chance to save the world once a week whilst encountering alien lifeforms. I mean, has he never heard of a mid-life crisis? What better tonic than fighting evil every once in a while. Sadly, Maria will be happily chatting with Luke on MSN when he'll have to leave her in the lurch as he pops off to tackle some Sycorax. How gutting is that going to be? Mr Jackson, you are a selfish bastard.

Wiffle Lever to Full!

Wiffle Lever to Full
by Bob Fischer

"Peter Davision is currently at the Chiswick Roundabout..."

Part exotic travelogue ("I'm in the middle of a sprawling Leicestershire industrial estate"), part confessional diary ("Princess Leia looks down disapprovingly from the wallpaper"), and part Danny Wallace-esque man-on-a-mission page-turner ("I need to be awake at 5am to make it to Portmerion on time!"), Wiffle Lever to Full is also the only book in existence that will tell you what it's really like to stand in an autograph queue for an inebriated Gareth Thomas.

When Bob Fischer decides to attend a local Doctor Who convention in Stockton-on-Tees he doesn't realise that he'll be bitten by a bug that will catapult him (and his credit card, and then, rather sweetly, his girlfriend) on an epic, cross-country voyage of discovery. The result is a hilarious, frank, and often very touching celebration of the weird, wonderful and bonkers brilliant world of fandom.

Swoon as Bob accosts Caroline Munro with a bottle of Lamb's Navy Rum! Wince as he's ambushed by Blake's 7 fans in the same quarry where Destiny of the Daleks was filmed! Gasp in horror when he finds himself trapped in a Star Trek maze made out of, er, maize. And sigh with relief when he doesn't upset Terry Prachett in a lift.

Wiffle... is the only book that tells you what it's really like to stand in an autograph queue for an inebriated Gareth Thomas.

While Bob's convention adventures are always entertaining and insightful (did you know that Servalan is currently looking after injured monkeys in South Africa?), the highlights for me were the sections where he reminisces about growing up as a sci-fi fan in the 70s and 80s. We've all been there: writing to Jim'll Fix It, yearning for that Palitoy Millennium Falcon, getting the horn for Britt Ekland. But it's not all dreamy-eyed nostalgia as Bob bravely bares his soul by recounting some of the really stupid things that he's done in the name of fandom as well. These include watching the final episode of The Prisoner stoned (is there any other way?), employing Star Wars action figures in an attempt to make his nipples go hard with desire, and a blazing row with his girlfriend about the merits of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy Movie. MJ Simpson will love it.

The Tachyon TV team are mentioned in both the Doctor Who and Blake's 7 sections of the book (even we have to draw the line somewhere), but whereas John appears as an erudite version of Norman Collier ("...ask Mark... about Mike Read... TARDIS Wendy House..."), I come across as a demonic sex pest (not for the first time). Bob also reveals that he knew John Paul was going to be in Rise of the Cybermen six months before I did! Or as he so eloquently puts it, "The bastard!"

If you've never been to a convention before then you may well be tempted to take the plunge after losing yourself in the world of Wiffle. Where else can you dance with middle-aged lesbians dressed as assassins, rub shoulders with fat David Tennants, or join a Robin of Sherwood quiz team with a man who's only watched the first 10 minutes of episode one?

And if you are a seasoned conventioneer already, don't be surprised if you find yourself scouring the internet for last-minute deals on hotel rooms set in provincial industrial estates. Oh look, there's a Doctor Who convention on the outskirts of Birmingham this weekend. I'll get me coat...

Wiffle Lever to Full by Bob Fischer
ISBN: 978-0340962015
RRP: £12.99
Release date: 24th July 2008 (selected branches of Waterstones have copies on sale now).