Evil Rising

A little while ago, I blogged about Authonomy, an online community for authors (and readers) developed by Harper Collins. And I posted a sample of my sci-fi comedy on there for the sake of feedback and to see if I stood any chance of making it to the Editors Desk and the attentions of the all-powerful Publishers.

Almost four weeks on and I'm very happy to say that the site has been a big hit with me and my book, Evil UnLtd (TM) has been a big hit with the site. There's still a ways to go - 18 days now before Harper Collins pick off the top 5 books for their inspection. Evil is currently at No.2 in the chart, but other books are on the rise all the while. So it's important I still promote, plug and promote some more. But what the exercise has achieved for me, even in this relatively short space of time, is invaluable. In terms of the comments and feedback (97%! positive thus far), suggested edits, the reading to be sampled and friends to be made, not to mention a much-needed morale boost and restored confidence in my writing and the notion that, yes, maybe I do have something here.

So if anyone fancies an (apparently) entertaining read, go on over and check it out - and of course give it your vote by promoting it to your bookshelf. You'll have to sign in as a member to comment on books and/or vote for them, but it's worthwhile whether you're a fellow author or just an avid reader. Not only do you get to sample upcoming talent, you get some say in which talents are upcoming.

Imagine the power! :)

Meanwhile, other books I'm currently recommending include: Space by Alexander McNabb, Punchline by Paul Fenton, Tartare by M Trevelean, Barry Beeswax and The Seven Suspects by K Howard Bell and Darkness by J Kavanagh. Better yet, just go check out my bookshelf on the site and take your pick. Tell your friends.

And while you're there, you can always look in on Evil UnLtd(TM) and help it take over the world. Today Authonomy, tomorrow Harper Collins. Well, by the end of the month, we hope.

Sandblogger

Apologies for neglecting my blog, I’ve not been well. But one of the pluses about being unwell is that you can have some (mostly) guilt-free vegging around time watching TV. And luckily, courtesy of my friend Stuart, I had some awesome quality TV to watch. On top of which, I thought I'd best hold off passing comment on said viewing to allow some time for what would have been my gushing praise to diminish, with the help of some fresh air and perspective, to the level of a more balanced review. Here we are a week after watching the final episode and unfortunately the breather hasn't done any good. The Sandbaggers, on reflection, stubbornly remains awesome.

At first, this late-70s TV spy drama might strike you as a bit of an oddity; once past its intriguing - and eventually infectious - theme tune, it might even strike you as potentially a bit dull. People in offices, constantly working late, always on the phone, being snarky to one another in the corridors of power, with only the occasional location scene to offer any indication that these people have any life outside of work – except for the fact that when they’re on location, it’s invariably job-related. Then somewhere along the way you realise this at-first-glance unremarkable combination somehow makes for utterly compelling viewing, and the truth sneaks up on you and hits you on the head: this is the West Wing of its day.

Of course, because of the period it hails from and the fact that it's British, it's rougher around the edges. It's grittier too, but doesn't lack for sharp humour. And like the West Wing it operates on the assumption that you know something of how its particular world functions or, if you don’t, is confident you will watch and learn and catch on to its rules and ways. And while the West Wing endeavours to show us an idealised US administration - sort of, wouldn't it be so much better if people in the White House were more like this? - The Sandbaggers is essentially saying, (back in the days before they had laptops and pen-drives to lose on public transport) this is what the UK intelligence service is probably really like, be afraid.

If, like me, you've noticed the complete lack of bastards in the Bartlett administration, you'll be pleased to know that The Sandbaggers has its share of them. Actually, there's one principal bastard, but he's such a mega-bastard he could single-handedly make up for a low bastard quotient in quite a number of shows. He's also what passes for the 'hero'.

The intensity with which Roy Marsden invests the role of Neil Burnside has to be an integral part of what makes the series so compelling. It's a performance as barbed and electric as the best security fence. So charged and intense, in fact, I'd be surprised if the actor didn't suffer nervous breakdowns between the filming each series. More of a workaholic than anyone in the Bartlett administration, the only time I think it lets up is when he's confronted with the prospect of losing his job - and then there's such a look of defeat on his face, you know - if you didn't already - that this job is this man's life. A moment which merely emphasises what will have struck you already if you've watched that far: i.e. that what's remarkable is that he keeps our sympathies entirely with him. (Or, er, maybe that's just me.)

This is no idealised version of the world, but Burnside is at least a man of ideals. Well, one anyway, and even if his single-minded dedication to the destruction of the KGB and all its Warsaw Pact subsidiaries is out of date now, we can respect - if not admire - the man, to the extent that, even when it's at the expense of the most prized principles, it's his schemes we find ourselves rooting for. Maybe it's just that he's surrounded by bureaucrats and in that sort of environment we're bound to root instead for the cold, manipulative, scheming, deceitful, conniving bastard.

And although he clearly believes the intelligence world revolves around him - and he can sometimes have them dancing to his tune - it's not all about Director Of Operations Burnside. Ray Lonnen's nicely laid-back, no-apparent-effort-required performance as Willie Caine - the ex-para who, refreshingly, loathes guns and (given a choice) eschews violence - provides a complimentary contrast to all that Burnside intensity and most of the other Sandbaggers (in spite of a fair degree of staff turnaround) range from dependable to the excellent and generally lovely Diane Keen.

It's her character, Laura Dickens, who serves to tantalise us with a glimpse of the more human side of our resident ruthless D-Ops, but because this is The Sandbaggers, that's far from the full story and her peculiar reserve when it comes to physical affection contributes to an added sting when the relationship comes to its unexpected conclusion. (And I'm being especially coy there, since I managed to inadvertently spoil that for a friend - sorry, mate - and have no desire to do the same for anyone else who hasn't watched the show.) (And I can only hope my friend can take some consolation in the fact that the series has even bigger shocks to come.)

Richard Vernon's C is a deal higher up the alphabetical order than M for good reason, Alan MacNaughtan is brilliant as Sir Geoffrey Wellingham and Jerome Willis (better known to me as Stephens from The Green Death) is terrific as Deputy Chief Peele. You can also amuse yourself, if so inclined, by playing spot the well-known British character actor. You'll probably recognise Michael Cashman as one of the early Eastenders, but he does a good job as the less experienced secret agent. I'm not fond of the eventual replacement C, but then neither is Burnside and Dennis Burgess is still undeniably good in the role.

But by now, I imagine, you're bored with reading about how brilliant it all is, so I guess I'd better examine some of its failings. Well, um, budget limitations mean that a combination of UK locations and studio work have to play stand-in for diverse locales across the globe, sometimes pretty effectively, sometimes less so. There's a larger proportion of location work as the series progresses - presumably more money being made available (and they do actually go to Malta, for instance) - while earlier on much of what occurs in foreign climes is merely reported, back in the confines of the London offices, say. But in fairness, consider The West Wing again and its general approach to events outside the White House.

There are a couple of episodes later on where much of what has been going on is revealed to us in the course of lengthy conversations between Burnside and a fellow intelligence officer. But since one of those - involving D-Int (Director Of Intelligence and a friend of Burnside's) - carries with it a tremendous emotional weight and dramatic impact, I even found myself forgiving the nature of the exposition.

Am I too forgiving? Have I perhaps been blinded to the series' faults? D' you know what, I'm sure I'm not the best person to answer that. Because I can't help thinking that if I've been blinded, then it was only by its sheer brilliance. I just hope you'll be able to forgive me this one unbalanced and entirely partial review and maybe be prompted to go check out the series for yourselves.

It goes without saying I recommend it. And I hope it won't give anything away just to warn you: it concludes with the most frustrating series end since Deadwood got canned all too prematurely. In this case, it was set to continue but had to be dropped because writer, Ian Mackintosh, mysteriously disappeared somewhere in the Bering Straits. (The producers - rightly - decided that no-one else could possibly have written the series as well.) Giving rise to speculation that he, as well as being a gifted writer, might also have been some kind of spy himself.

A fact which, regardless of whether true or false, only lends an extra touch of mystique to this exceptional slice of TV.

Authonomy

In the interests of self-promotion and in the interests of promoting awareness of what is basically just a good idea, I'd like to tell everyone about authonomy.
It's a platform/online community for authors to air and share their works, developed by Harper Collins, allowing authors to upload all or part of a given book and any registered members to read and review them, offering helpful comments and criticisms and/or recommending them to friends. And as an added bonus, Harper Collins will actually consider the top five reads at the end of each month.
So naturally it serves me to announce that I've posted a third of one of my novels on the site, but more than that, as I mentioned, I just happen to think it's a neat idea. And I recommend my author friends to go upload some work of theirs and give it a whirl, and recommend my reader friends to go check it out and see what's on offer.
And if anybody happens to read my modest sample of sci-fi comedy, (the link to which should work once you've registered at the site, but if not search for the works of one 4dprefect) well, so much the better!
Hopefully, I'll be uploading more of my work there as time goes on. Watch this space - and, er, that one as well.

The Wolves Are Running

Okay, not quite a Box Of Delights, but the second book in Puffin's Fright Night series, The Howling Castle - as ghost-written by yours truly - is out now. Buy a copy - if you dare!

Sun Screen

Sun *and* screen, I should say. Or rather, in the absence of the former, we seem to have experienced more of the latter. And what with the summer apparently being over now, it seemed like a good time to reflect back on some of the blockbusters we've seen since we invested in this year's loyalty card at the local cinema. It feels like it's been all superheroes and I can only imagine the general public growing tired of them if this keeps up.

Luckily they're still a welcome (potential) treat for a kid who grew up on Marvel comics - not exclusively: they were like the Milky Way of my reading habits, the stuff you could read between proper books without spoiling your appetite. Of course, when the makers of Milky Way bars make that claim, they're probably envisaging a child consuming perhaps one bar at a time. Entirely possible to have too much of a good thing, guys.

In truth, it wasn't all caped crusaders though. Some of them didn't have capes. But perhaps I'm being unfair: there were other films in the mix. Maybe best to just crack on with the mini-reviews and we can measure the actual superhero tally against the overall impression.

Some of these I've already helped review for my wife's movie review site, so I'll endeavour to be brief here.

First up, Iron Man. Definitely one for the superhero count, and actually weighed in above expectations. Polished (ha) and slick, good sense of humour, all aided and abetted by charismatic performances from Robert Downey Jr (who gives us a Tony Stark living the rock-star lifestyle) and Gwyneth Paltrow. Could have used more in the middle, some more Iron-Man-on-tank action perhaps, but mostly it rocked - and not just in the soundtrack.

Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull was a fun ride, albeit a slightly downhill one, I thought. As mentioned before, admittedly rather strangely, I had a harder time believing in Roswell aliens than the whole Lost Arks or Holy Grails of before and of course in the context of today's blockbusters, the movie has a harder time showing us anything we haven't seen before. But the first half is vintage Indy. And the mere fact that I can say 'vintage Indy' makes me feel far too old.

The Incredible Hulk. Enjoyed this too, almost as much as Iron Man. I (mostly) liked Ang Lee's more pensive version, but this one spends no time contemplating its green belly button and, courtesy of everyone knowing about the Hulk, can dispense with the whole origin story in the space of the opening titles. Brilliant. More superhero movies could do the same. Good action outing, with just enough human story to give a sense of substance and even manages to shoot a chemistry experiment in a tense, exciting way (Doctor Who take note: if you ever want to let the Doctor resolve a plot with some basic science stuff, take a tip from Dr Bruce Banner.)

The Chronicles Of Narnia: Prince Caspian. On the surface, wonderfully colourful escapist fantasy. Beneath the surface, er, nothing much. There are great bits, including a cameo from Tilda Swinton's White Queen - yay! - and Reepicheep, the swashbuckling mouse is an instant star, but I'm still surprised by how superficial it all feels. Not helped by the inclusion of a really odd romantic thread for Susan, which - despite doubtless being an attempt to lend proceedings some emotional weight - just ends up being odd.

The Forbidden Kingdom. More escapist fantasy adventure, this time for martial arts fans. A fairly ordinary story given life by some great cinematography and a host of affectionate nods to some great martial arts movies, including a liberal sprinkling of "Monkey magic". Frankly, Jet Li and Jackie Chan together was recommendation enough for me, and they didn't disappoint. Great moves, great fun.

Wall-E. Never have so many pixels been invested with such a depth of warmth and enchantment. Refreshingly short on dialogue, high on laughs and, yes, even a few tears, it's also a touching - and lively - homage to Silent Running. The scenes with the humans are less successful, especially when the imagination is asked to bridge the gap between live-action footage of people and big blobby CGI dollops. Still, wonderful stuff and a clear warning of the horrors of what can best be summed up by the label 'Wall-Mart'. What more could you want.

The Dark Knight. On the long side, but for the most part I didn't notice as this gripped the attention and didn't let go. Somehow, they took the outlandish and ludicrous character of the Joker and made him chillingly real: probably something to do with Heath Ledger's brilliantly sadistic performance. The tale of Harvey Dent's downfall is skilfully threaded through proceedings and it's only a little odd that, in a world where Batman and the Joker have been rendered realistically, they opt for the so-obviously CGI 'make-up' job on Two-Face. No stranger than there being Batman toys tied to such a non kid-friendly franchise, I suppose, and
takes little away from the fact that this was compelling stuff.

Mamma Mia! Yeah, it really warrants the exclamation mark. A truly unbelievable movie. Don't get me wrong, I like Abba. But of the two ways of experiencing their music, staying at home and listening to a CD would have been my preferred option. However, I did promise my wife to take her out to a chick-flick (on our anniversary, no less) and I stand by the decision, albeit shaking my head. Mostly at the memory of Pierce Brosnan crooning his way painfully through at least three numbers and actually making Meryl Streep sound good. Julie Walters and Christine Baranski were fun, and perhaps the movie could have been saved if everything was as over-the-top as they were, but that would have depended on free handouts of alcohol at the door.

Hancock. For me, the name calls to mind Hancock's Half Hour and you'd be better off watching or listening to some of those. One of those cases where, once you've seen the trailer, you've definitely seen it all. Dispenses with the superhero origin story by giving its hero a dose of amnesia and by curious twist of fate ends up being remarkably forgettable.

The Happening. Oh dear. If as I suggested previously Steven Moffat really is the M Night Shyamalan of Doctor Who, this doesn't bode well for future Moffat offerings. Interesting idea, feebly told, with almost every little nuance you imagine might later reveal itself as having some fiendishly clever significance... being of no consequence to the story whatsoever. Between this and Lady In The Water, M Night is getting dangerously past his bedtime. Fingers crossed, he'll get back on form before too long.

The Mummy 3: Tomb Of The Dragon Emperor. When you have the Rock (as in The Mummy Returns) as your bad guy, you might be forgiven for thinking it's a good idea to transform him into a badly CGI-ed creature from an arcade game boss battle. When you have Jet Li as your main villain (as in this one), there's really no need to transform him into anything at all. Just let him be impressive and kick your hero's butt. That aside though, this was fun by and large and a bit of a step up from the disappointing second movie in the series, although the absence of Rachel Weisz - despite the fact that Maria Bello (good actress, but curious choice as a Weisztitute) does a fair job in the same role - is very much a step down. Also, saddling your hero and heroine with offspring is a tricky business and the movie feels a bit saddled with him too. But what the heck, we don't care, because as well as the legendary Jet Li, this has the legendary-ess Michelle Yeoh and thankfully they refrain from morphing her into anything unnecessary.

The X Files: I Want To Believe. And I wanted to like this, and - in the main, once I'd given up waiting for the extraterrestrial connection to emerge - did. It's hard to not expect aliens in an X Files movie, but to be fair we've only had two of them now and I thought it was brave of them not to go down that route. What you're left with is in danger of being dismissed as a pedestrian serial killer outing, and it didn't have enough of Mulder and Scully actually working together for my liking, but it did have strong echoes of my favourite X Files episode, Beyond The Sea, and for that it earns points here. To say nothing of the points it scores just for featuring Gillian Anderson. Billy Connolly is exceptional as the psychic paedo, and that's not something you get to say very often and one X Files regulars who's not Mulder or Scully makes a welcome surprise appearance. And, for my own reasons, I liked the snowy setting.

Hellboy 2: The Golden Army. Impressive visuals and a wealth of creativity in the creature design department, as you'd anticipate from the director of Pan's Labyrinth. And it all sits comfortably alongside the established Hellboy imagery, but I fear that images are all I'll ultimately take away from the experience. Just as the terrifically creepy concept of the Tooth Fairies is lost in the apparent need to have thousands of the little buggers swarming around, if there is any substance to the story I couldn't find it in all the visual splendour. There's humour and some nice moments, but like a lot of those proton torpedoes in the attack on the original Death Star, this movie only "impacted on the surface".

So, that's what, thirteen movies - apologies to the triskadecaphobics out there - and the truth is there are only five that qualify as actual superhero material. Not even half. Not nearly as bad as our impressions made out. Most of them worth the trip to see on the big screen (especially at the reduced price offered by our loyalty cards!), with a few real standouts, so all in all not a bad summer of movies.

Now if only the sun could manage a few showings of at least average quality...

Never Judge A Book...

...by its position in a Top 100.

These days, it's not enough that you read books, you have to list the books you've read. Memes. So called because they're all me me me. For this one, I have Marie to thank, but it's something to do while the dinner's cooking. And it's about books, and how can you not be interested in a list of books.

According to The Big Read, the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books in their list. Like all Top 100s of anything it's flawed, but we'll go along with their list since, well, since that's the point of the exercise. The 'rules':

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you love.
4) Strike out the books you have no intention of ever reading, or for whatever reason loathe.
5) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who’ve only read 6 and force books upon them.

So, here we go then:

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 The Harry Potter Series - JK Rowling - what else are the movies for except saving you having to read all the books?
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible (ish. I mean, who's going to read it from cover to cover, but I was forced to attend Sunday school in my childhood and damn it I'm getting a credit!)
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare - most
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy. Brilliant.
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime And Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck (I have read Of Mice And Men though.)
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame (Can't believe I've never read it!)
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy - Best. Novel. Ever.
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis Curious how this doubles up on this list, but I've read it twice, so I guess that works out okay.
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini Sounds dull.
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden - saw the movie though.
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown Yeah, right.
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy Gotta love Thomas Hardy.
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen,
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon On the bookshelf, ready to go.
57 A Tale Of Two Cities
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez - know nothing about it, except that Shakira contributed to the movie soundtrack, so gonna have to get the album at least
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck - and there it is
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy Harrowing.
68 Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding - Not just pants, but big pants, apparently
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker. Fab.
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom - Never heard of it, but Marie's just put me off it!
89 Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - plus Return and Case Book etc.
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad Joseph Conrad rules. Nostromo should be in here.
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare Read. And just watched it - again - the other day.
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

So I make that 44 (edited: somehow missed A Tale Of Two Cities on the first pass - that's the trouble with cutting and pasting someone else's list, I guess!). And I haven't underlined any, but that has more to do with not being able to find underline on the blog editor than not having loved certain books. Obviously there'd be more than 44 if this was a more decent list.

There's just no accounting for taste. Not even mine. But life's too short to read everything. Just not short enough to prevent us making lists, apparently. :)

Mad Dogs And Englishmen

There wasn't a whole lot of midday sun in Terry Nation's Survivors for anyone to go out in, the weather being frequently grey and overcast and often downright wintry, but there's no reason why we should expect that to change just because the vast majority of the population has been wiped out by a plague. But Englishmen are very much a feature, as you'd expect - particularly of that middle class, slightly stiff upper lip sort you'd expect from thespians in a 70s BBC TV Drama - and mad dogs too as rabies becomes one more threat in the pile stacked against our brave band of heroes.

Of course, as touched upon before, they're not 'heroes' as such and, sadly, as the series progresses through into its third season, they're not even much of a band any more. And there, as I had been warned, problems begin to creep in and what started as an outstanding series with very few low spots ends as a slightly disappointing affair with a few outstanding highlights.

Although, it being Survivors, the highlights generally occur at the lowest points. That is to say, it's when the show's at its bleakest that it really soars. And you can pretty much mark the point where the series takes its downward turn from the moment the balloon goes up.

But before we get ahead of ourselves, let's backtrack to the opening of the second series, which I'd been awaiting eagerly since that optimistic end note on Series One.

There's a slightly disconcerting hiccough, but luckily it's not the early symptom of anything terminal: we discover that Abby(Carolyn Seymour)'s gone (with her good news of a possible sighting of her son, Peter, we have to adjust to the notion that her story is over) and then the budding community is struck by fire, which is all the more unfortunate for the fact that it disposes of half the previous regulars off-screen. That's a hard pill to swallow and although the characters are no doubt somewhat hardened to the question of death, they appear to take this devastating blow more in their stride than I could as a mere viewer. The surviving Survivors relocate to another community, headed by Dennis Lill who, as Charles Vaughan - although borderline bonkers and wanting to procreate with every woman in sight when we last saw him - now supplies us with an excellent and worthy lead to rival Ian McCulloch's Greg Preston.

Fortunately (?) further misfortune follows hot on disaster's heels in the second episode, Greater Love, and although it brings with it the loss of yet another character - and a good one too, in Chris Tranchell's Paul - the handling is much more sensitive and consequently effective - and also substantiates what I was saying about the series being best at its bleakest. The episode also serves as a proper introduction to Ruth (Celia Gregory), who - perhaps through the connection established with her here, or perhaps because of a good solid performance as a strong female character - grew to be another favourite of mine.

To the extent that in the ensuing two-parter, Lights Of London, when it seems likely we're going to lose Ruth too, I was ready to cry, "Oi! Survivors! Noooooo!" Or something to that effect. Ultimately, its tale of a rat-besieged fascistic community in the rotten core of London is not quite as gritty stuff as I'd have preferred from the series' first visit to one of the big cities - but this does occur at a year's remove from the outbreak of the plague and it's highly probably that the two-parter I might have liked to have seen wouldn't have passed the censors back then.

After that, the series settles down into an exploration of the trials, tribulations and growth of the Preston-Vaughan community, to an extent picking up where we left off at the end of Season One, in terms of pressing on into the next phase of rebuilding. There's talk of a federation of communities, banding together for protection, discussion of a telephone system and other practical developments, such as Greg's pet gas-power project.

Most of it is strong, if inevitably less urgent than preceding incidents on the survival road. But there is a natural, well-considered progression to it all, highly suggestive that the producers had a plan all fully worked out. And along the way there are some truly cracking episodes - Face Of The Tiger and A Friend In Need, particularly, stood out for me - the latter being evidence that it's not always a bad idea to let one of your leading actors turn scribe for a story or (as it eventually turns out) several. Parasites too is shocking (in a good way), not least because it has the gall to introduce the awesome Pat Troughton in sterling character-actor mode, then kill him off. The only major weak point along the way - just as I'd been warned - turns out to be The Witch, an episode that perhaps could have worked, with a stronger basis for the community's suspicions, but one which ends up being plain silly. Luckily, Mina, the 'witch' of the title, is redeemed in Parasites, with her touching - and ultimately crushed - hopes of romance with Troughton's bargee character. In any case, everything feels like it is building towards something and that something materialises as a balloon which, like a lot of things that are full of hot-air, appears to hold a great deal of promise for the future, but ultimately leads to a let down.

The arrival of a traveller from Norway, armed with maps from the air, holds the seeds for all that federalising and rebuilding of industry and infra-structure that Vaughan and Preston have been enthusing about throughout. The potential realisation of all their dreams. It's a big, momentous ending to the season and an optimistic one in many senses, but it is tinged with pain as Jenny (Lucy Fleming) and her beloved Greg are forced to part company.

Departures are, it emerges as we move keenly on to the next and final series, exactly what the event signals. If the adjustment was challenging at the beginning of the second season, then it's doubly so at the outset of the third. The opening episode, Manhunt, failing to make a great deal of sense doesn't entirely help, but more crucially a new pattern is set: the series ahead of us is to be a manhunt of sorts, with Jenny and Charles and Hubert (John Abineri) forever - it seems like - chasing after the elusive Greg and never quite catching up with the fellow. This chap who was so much at the core of things previously, now takes on the air of a myth. And frankly it gets fairly tiresome and by the time Jenny, at one point, is ready to give up on him, well, my sympathies were entirely with her.

Greg though is like Blake in Blake's Seven. To a large extent he was the glue holding things together, and his absence is felt keenly here. Fair to say, the lack of cohesion also arises from a mission to show us the 'community of the week' visited by Charles and Jenny in their quest, but I have to feel there must have been better ways of going about it. Perhaps alternating between Greg's story and the chasing group, so that we weren't suffering quite so much with the frustration along with them, of hearing news of the man, rushing on to the next episode only to discover he had moved on. Fewer strange and rather misjudged episodes like Manhunt and Sparks and other things that make you go "Hmm" would have been welcome. It might even have been just as well to merely explore a different community each week and dispense with the established set of characters altogether.

But in that event, we would not have been so emotionally involved when it came to the key highlights of the season which, for my money have to include Mad Dog - a stark tale in which Charles ends up hunted on the mere suspicion that he might have rabies - genuinely scary - and the superb The Last Laugh. Which, as well as featuring Greg, was also penned by the actor - lending the impression that McCulloch only agreed to star in the episodes he scribed for this season. His previous for the third series, A Little Learning, didn't impress me, although in fairness it was severely let down by a bad child-actor more than bad enough for me to have completely forgiven poor Stephen Dudley (who did a fair enough job, bless 'im, when it came to Reunion, the tale of his reunion with his mother - the title of which unfortunately led us to believe Jenny was due to finally meet up with Greg. How wrong we were!)

The Last Laugh is a bitter, bitter tale and, honestly, one of the best of all three seasons. (And I'd forgive McCulloch's appearance in Doctor Who's Warriors Of The Deep on the strength of that alone!) If I had to gauge from this story alone, I'd guess McCulloch had a real love for the character he played, although those in the know are free to correct me on that. And, aside from the vital reaction to news of his demise from Jenny, that is where I would have left Greg's story.

But unfortunately, no, we have to endure the ignominy of Long Live The King after that, where the sight of a Union Jack being raised with the initials GP emblazoned in the centre succeeds more in characterising how badly the episode misfires than it does in immortalising Greg Preston in the way the story intends. It also features Roy Marsden as the Captain who, in contrast to the genuinely dangerous men in The Last Laugh, amounts to the closest thing to a 'villain' the series has fielded and whose plans are sadly inconsequential and ultimately rather lacking in the drama department. It's all a bit of a shame and even manages to undermine what should have been a crushing, devastating moment for Jenny when she is given the news - after chasing all around the country after him - that Greg is dead. That is a truly sad end.

And as for the actual final episode, Power, well, apart from the fact that it is a fitting closure in terms of the practical reconstruction side of things, the idea that so many Scots survive relatively comfortably north of the border while the rest of us are left scraping together a pathetic existence here in England is an outrage! It's just that sort of racist anti-English propoganda that will have this country falling apart at the seams, I tell you! I should have seen it coming: the series is positively crawling with Scots in key roles!

Although, to tell the truth, I only include that little mock rant because I'm reasonably sure Stuart will be reading - tee hee :) . And it's as well to be nice to the Scots just in case they do end up in control of our hyrdo-electric power in the event of a global disaster.

All in all then, 'power' is what this drama has and it ends as it began - 'not with a bang'. It's only a shame that by the closing stages, with the cited exceptions, it's not nearly as impressive. The story of rebuilding worked better when it was focused, smaller-scale, and although the third series ranges far and wide and offers us variety, in this case it's not the spice of life. Rather, to some extent, it's a few too many potentially interesting seeds falling on stony ground. And Survivors really should know better and concentrate their efforts on more fertile pastures.

Taken as a whole then, strongly recommended viewing, parts of which might qualify as some of the best TV drama ever. Just watch out for that balloon and prepare yourself for a bit of a bumpy journey from there on.

Karn Eval

The Brain in the rain stays mainly splattered over the plain. A spot of elocution practice to test mental faculties there: apparently I was, like the villainous Time Lord, destroyed in a dispersal chamber but was saved by a devoted mad professor who managed to preserve everything but my brain. Because, try as I might, I can't see what's supposed to be so rubbish about The Brain Of Morbius.

As if my recent birthday bonanza of Who-related materials was insufficient (which it wasn't, but I couldn't help myself) I went and treated myself to this Season 13 classic on DVD. And like many 'classics' it does come in for a deal of stick from some quarters, and that's fair enough - each to his own - but - possibly because I have this brainless head - I couldn't see it and, to be honest, loved every minute of this superbly orchestrated 'Goth Opera'. Like so much of the same season it has that combination of old, new, borrowed, blue working for it and while Pyramids Of Mars turned to The Mummy for its inspiration and Planet Of Evil pays homage to Jekyll & Hyde and Forbidden Planet, this one is the team of Hinchcliffe, Holmes and Dicks taking a romp through a Mary Shelley/H Rider Haggard theme park.

Along with the old and borrowed of Frankenstein and She, there's lashings of blue - where blue is my convenient catch-all heading for mood and atmosphere - in the craggy Karn landscape, shrouded in dry-ice and assailed by storms, and the 'new' lies in the sf/fantasy reworking of the source materials that also succeeds in making some key contributions to the building of the Who universe, ranging from casual references to Mutts and the Hoothi to the crucial background story of the Cult of Morbius, all as potent in their own way as that single reference to the "advance on Reykjavik" (Talons Of Weng Chiang) that so vividly painted other unseen adventures and worlds in this young viewer, once upon a time.

Actually, I say "once upon a time", but it still has as inspirational an effect on me as a 'proper grown-up writer'. That in mind, it's perfectly possible that nostalgia plays a part in my impressions of the story, but I've no problems owning up to that and even if I take that out of the equation - so far as I can - The Brain Of Morbius still impresses.

There are elements that could so easily be laughable: Condo as the Ygor figure, for example, and any group of women emulating flame in dance form are in danger of looking silly, but it's all played with such conviction and, in league with the wonderfully gloomy atmosphere of it all - to say nothing of the brutality (Condo's hacking off of the Mutt's head at the beginning, the attempted burning of the Doctor at the stake, Solon's blasting his troublesome servant with a gun and his casual, clinical approach to the Doctor's impending decapitation) - helps keep things sober.

Humour is there in the dialogue (and in an incident of brain-spillage), but this was a period when you could really gauge the seriousness of a given threat by the gravity of Tom Baker's portrayal and, as in Pyramids, he's as gloomy as his environs here when the name of Morbius crops up. Thus, the portrait of a truly dangerous villain is painted long before we've met his cobbled-together remains and there's a beautiful progression to the cliffhangers, where each is carefully constructed to conclude with an encounter with Morbius at various stages along the assembly line: headless monster, brain-in-a-tank and - in a brilliant moment for Sarah Jane to have just recovered the power of sight - the fully assembled Creature.

It's a shame, perhaps, that he's demented, as we've been given the impression of a foe who would surely have been much more formidable with his mental faculties intact and it's also something of a shame that he meets with such an ignominious end: pitched off a cliff by the Sisterhood, who are, for the purposes of the homage, reduced to the level of the torch-wielding mob. But it's fitting that a Gothic horror should play out as much as a tragedy as a horror story. And the cliff-top dive is at least preceded by the famous mental duelling scene, so the Doctor has very much played a part in the villain's ultimate end.

At which point, I have to pause and mention - if only to aggravate the continuity-obsessed fans - it's entirely possible to read those mysterious faces in the mindbending machine as incarnations of Morbius. Sure, at the time, Morbius is ranting on about how far back he can drive the Doctor, but it's also right after that he develops an overload and stomps off, thrashing madly about. In The Three Doctors, the Time Lords speak of lifting the Doctor's earliest incarnation from his timestream and that's unambiguously William Hartnell. So while there's room for interpretation in the Morbius scene, I'm going with that reading. People will mock and scoff, but hey, they laughed at Mehendri Solon and look what he achieved.

Speaking of whom, Philip Madoc is supreme as the mad scientist in this: so good that, although you know he *must* be insane, there's little overt evidence of it in his performance. He's cold and calculating and charming - a tough blend to pull off - and a great foil for the Doctor. Utterly convincing, you almost understand why the Doctor's trusting enough to leave a blind Sarah Jane in the man's care. Almost. (Personally, I wouldn't: I'd be taking her around with me everywhere - just to make sure she was okay, you know.) The way Solon stands there, openly admiring the Doctor's head is a brilliantly bizarre moment that Madoc sells completely.

Cynthia Grenville as Maren is good too, her heavily aged features at least as startling in their own way as any brain in a fishbowl. Ohica, her second-in-command, is a shade on the theatrical side, but it's not so overdone that it can't simply be taken as the earnestness of an intendant 'heir', keen to be taken seriously. And the design work is rich in detail, both on the Sisterhood costumes and their shrine. The design work in general is very good, in fact, both interiors and exterior, with the landscape only losing a little something in the rare daylight scenes. And the Monster itself is a truly memorable creation, with that special bio-mechanical collage look being hard to pull off successfully, or at least so I imagine.

There are a few questions about some aspects of the story - for instance, wouldn't it have made more sense for Solon, eager to collect body parts, to have been somehow responsible for the crashed spaceships, rather than the Sisterhood who are set on keeping people away? - but as far as this viewer's concerned, nothing sufficiently damaging to detract from the overall experience and what I get from it is an involving sf-horror adventure, rich in inspiration and possibilities that range beyond what's actually seen on screen. The sort of Doctor Who that's worth celebrating.

Who knows, maybe my brain will be found and replaced and I will be able to see through the illusion to the rubbishness underneath. But if it is an illusion, it was achieved with acting, dialogue, papier mache and a budget of thirty quid - not frenetic pacing and razzle-dazzle CGI - and in that respect it'd still be something of a remarkable achievement.

The Big Birthday Review

Ah, I'm sure you all remember from childhood the joy of tearing all that brightly coloured wrapping paper off your presents and, approximately two weeks' later, running to your computer to review your various gifts on your blog. By and large, I blame Doctor Who: always a fan - with a small f - it was inevitable, I guess, that when I started a blog I ended up reviewing all things Who-related and, of course, it's a fairly natural consequence for that reviewing impulse to spill over into other areas.

Rarely though have I touched upon music. Mostly that's because for me a music review would, more than any other, boil down to did I like it or not. But also partly because, rather like Phil, I have oftentimes been susceptible to a degree of insecurity when it comes to my musical tastes (and mine are fairly eclectic), mostly I think because of all the media in which you might develop your individual tastes it seems to be the one in which you're most open to attack or ridicule. So as well as being great for airing and sharing, the internet is *brilliant* for mocking and belittling others' opinions: it's an arena, so go ahead throw your views to the lions. And be it Doctor Who, TV in general, music or your preferred reading, you're at least as likely to be ripped into for the things you don't like as the things you do. As a long-time member of a Who-oriented mailing list, I know it can get especially heated and unpleasant, not to say tiresome, when your views don't match those of a particular breed of impassioned Fan (most assuredly with a large F) and sadly I wasn't overly surprised to discover that one set of anonymous comments in response to her simple, honest review of this year's big Who finale prompted this post by Marie, and who can blame her. Luckily for me, I laugh and shake my head at much of this sort of thing and don't believe anyone should be the least bit ashamed of their tastes, whatever they may be. Detractors, where I come from, are only what de rest of us get stuck behind as they're hauling their wide loads along narrow parochial lanes.

So if any of my reviews here offend or appear to invite laughter and/or abuse, do feel free, but you should know upfront that I'm unlikely to care! :) Not least because all the things being reviewed were birthday presents and the mood of this post is way more celebratory than critical. That and the fact that I saw Mamma Mia! last night, and after being subjected to Pierce Brosnan's 'singing' I'm inclined to believe I can take anything!

Anyhoo, as much as blogging about it is an inevitable consequence of being a fan (small f) of Doctor Who, so is receiving Who DVDs and what have you. Hence, giving me more Who about which to blog. As vicious circles go, it's quite a happy one.

So, first 'out of the wrapping paper', so to speak, we have the K9 Tales box set, wherein someone has thought to lovingly combine the tin dog's introductory adventure, The Invisible Enemy, with his very own spin-off, K9 & Company, from back when the idea of a Doctor Who spin-off was actually a novelty. Imagine that.

The Invisible Enemy begins nicely, even managing to be creepy and a little unsettling as the Doctor himself is infected and Leela, alone immune to the spindly video-effect lightning attacks of the Virus, is left to fend for herself. Production-wise it doesn't even look markedly worse than any other Who of its era. Storywise, to invert a favoured defence of a lot of New Who, it's no more absurd than a lot of the stuff we're treated to these days, and as far as I can tell is guilty of nothing that, with a bigger budget and a few choice emo-moments from Leela or the Doctor, wouldn't have been forgiven by many if it had been made today.

It's essentially at the end of episode 2, around when we see shots of the Doctor and Leela spinning around in a CSO whirlpool - not actually any worse than shots of the Doctor, Sarah and Harry using the Time Ring at the end of Genesis Of The Daleks - that things go downhill. And as tough as it may have been to pull off an effective sf adventure story about a virus that remains very much in the microscopic realm, they might have been wiser to go down the route of keeping the titular enemy titularly invisible. I have to admire the ambition, but with the best will in the world, it's hard to look past pre-crumbled walls, a giant Prawn that needs two minions to wheel it along the corridors, and an asteroid which looks like it should have a few Clangers patrolling its surface in search of the Soup Dragon or the Iron Chicken. Also, sadly, the sets and CSO are far from being up to the challenge of pulling off a Fantastic Voyage-style journey through the Doctor's brain. So what we get is a less than fantastic plod through a polystyrene jungle, leading to an encounter with a creation I shall politely refer to as the Hooded Claw.

Fortunately, Tom Baker and Louise Jameson , with the aid of some great snippets of dialogue ("We could try using our intelligence!" "If you think that's a good idea.") ensure the adventure sufficient saving graces and, ably assisted by K9 - and it's easy to see why he was a hit - as well as Frederick Jaeger and Michael Sheard, although there are a few production catastrophes, the story avoids being a total disaster. Cheep and cheerful fun, but don't expect a classic.

The companion DVD, K9 & Company is (probably) equally cheap and, opening titles aside, a deal less cheerful, as it concerns a coven of witches in the sleepy English village of Moreton Harwood. It's a passable little mystery and, although not one likely to overly tax your grey cells, takes a fair stab at misleading your suspicions within its limited 50-minute runtime. Approached as a pilot episode, its simplicity of plot is easily forgiven, although at the same time it's hard to see how it might have developed as a series without the inclusion of more diverse and obviously sci-fi elements, such as invading aliens and the like. That same simplicity doesn't render the story very memorable, however, and what sticks in your mind most - for a long time after viewing - are those opening titles, possibly a little too cheerful. A truly curious arrangement of shots of K9 and Sarah Jane 'in action', all to the accompaniment of a theme 'tune' more infectious than the Virus and at least as painful on the ears as the Prawn was on the eyes. Never mind, at heart this is a Sarah Jane Smith story that predates the Sarah Jane Adventures by 20 years and has such has a good deal of charm, easily reached by whizzing past those titles. Which I must remember to do on next viewing.

For another passable 50-minute mystery, not only from the Who stable but also from the pen of Terence Dudley, I also had Black Orchid to delight and entertain me. Again, solving the mystery will not make you Hercules Poirot - it's one of those familiar tales of a hideously scarred supposedly lost relative hidden in a secret wing of the family mansion - but it's told with charm and enough joie-de-vivre that I even found the cricket match near the beginning a pleasure to watch. There's some oddness in the second episode where the Doctor seems to think that revealing his identity as a Time Lord ought to clear him of suspicion of murder but even though he is not instrumental in the resolution, he is involved and the entire affair seems very neatly tailored to the Fifth Doctor. Tegan and Nyssa are clearly having fun too with the costume side of the costume drama and Adric is helpfully sidelined, stuffing his face, so there's a lot to be grateful for. And Sarah Sutton does a nice job with the dual role. Plus, embedded in the heart of this simple period escapade there's enormous potential for a whole series of PDAs (Past Doctor Adventures), just waiting to be tapped into; so all in all, a genuine treat and Black Orchid is duly promoted above Caves Of Androzani as my favourite Davison story.

By contrast, The Celestial Toymaker (BBC Audio) is - in the audio realm at least - a bit disappointing. Far far better for the host of possibilities it inspires in the imagination than for much of what goes on in the adventure itself. It is a *great* idea and Michael Gough makes for a great villain, and a particularly good foil for the First Doctor, even though Hartnell isn't even present for a large chunk of the story. Sadly, he is rendered powerless and his role somewhat inconsequential, as the Toymaker advances the moves willy-nilly in his Trilogic game, ostensibly as a means of upping the tension, while Steven and Dodo are forced to play through a series of parlour games, one per episode basically, all ending with no cleverer a twist than their prize turning out to be a fake TARDIS - at least until the final game. Unfortunately, when it comes to the games on offer in the Toymaker's domain, someone must have suggested 'hopscotch' and someone else must have misheard. A hotchpotch is, in fact, what we get and a race against time becomes more a test of endurance. According to the sleeve notes, some meddling from the script editor succeeded in removing all the suspense from the original script and the results are telling. It's a shame as there is a much better story in here, bogged down by over-laboured dialogue and repetitious 'action', not to mention some surprisingly weak cliffhangers, although it does have a nice tail end in which the Doctor tricks the Toymaker with a spot of ventriloquism. As for me, I'm not fooled by the illusion, but I can at least appreciate what the magician is trying to do.

Further in the Who department, I was also happy to receive Human Nature/Family Of Blood/Blink and treated myself to Tooth And Claw/School Reunion/The Girl In The Fireplace which, although almost certainly not worth re-reviewing here, celebrate the modern tradition of ensuring that the three good episodes from any given year end up, by luck or design - I don't know which - on the same disc, for my convenience. (Season 4 apparently continues this tradition, with Silence In The Library/Forest Of The Dead/Midnight all falling together in a single volume.) Thanks, Rusty!

Which brings us if not 'neatly' then at least 'eventually' to the music section, in which I was sufficiently blessed to have been given not one but two Coldplay albums. Coldplay, as it happens, being the principal reason for all the preamble above, because for some reason unknown to me - but each to his/her own - they and anyone who professes to liking them come in for a lot of stick. Apparently.

Well, like I said, I don't care. I like Coldplay. More than like them, in fact. Despite that, I somehow managed to lag two albums behind - but no longer. There's nothing on either X&Y or Viva La Vida that's so immediately 'eternal' as Clocks or The Scientist, say, but here's plenty of evidence of a band developing their sound - and not in a downhill way like Radiohead with Kid A. (Blah.) Two listens of each was enough for me to discover plenty to love. See: I either liked it or I didn't. Not terribly interesting in the 'review' stakes, but there you have it: both great albums, and at this stage the more recent of the two is just nudging ahead as the favourite.

Next we have Gabriella Cilmi, who attracted my attention on the strength of her single Sweet About Me. Fair to say, that one song is the key strength of the album, Lessons To Be Learned, and I'd be hard-pressed to pick another track that stands out to the same extent. Except the bonus track, Echo Beach, which stands out for the wrong reasons: not as good as the original. But Gabriella surprises with a gutsy Anastacia-like voice which, if that's at all to your tastes, helps make for interesting enough listening.

Much better is Beth Rowley's Little Dreamer, where I'd be hard-pressed to pick a single because, as far as I'm concerned, the vast majority of the songs are stand-out. Loved it first time I heard it, even with some of the tracks having a surprisingly gospel sound - but that didn't put me off the O! Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack, so no reason why it should this either. An especially welcome surprise, this one, since I was drawn to it by reputation only and hadn't heard anything of Beth Rowley beforehand.



Finally, the star of the music pressies, Shakira's Oral Fixation (there's a joke in there somewhere, surely) Tour on DVD. Awesome. Of course, Shakira is great, let's make my bias clear. With her wonderfully Latino-flavoured pop-rock and a voice - even better in her native Spanish - easy to imagine echoing off the peaks of the Andes, whether dance number or heartfelt ballad, the woman knows how to deliver a song. She also, as it turns out, knows how to put on a good show. Truly, her hips don't lie, and her belly-dancing is equally honest and yet undeniably flexible, and she mixes it all up with some rather playful robotic dancing and plenty of rock-star style bounding around the stage. There's real emotion in those ballads and if you ever want to see real joie-de-vivre every other song is bursting with it. Rather like - to stretch a comparison - Peter Davison playing cricket in Black Orchid, here is someone obviously having a thoroughly good time doing what she does. Great stuff.

In conclusion then, a big thank you to all concerned. There were movies too in the midst of all that, most of which I haven't even given a test drive in the DVD player yet, but rest assured they're in the queue for watching. Like I said, I refuse to apologise to anyone for liking anything. But I will apologise to anyone who gave me a gift that didn't end up earning a wholly favourable review, but anyone should realise that as a Doctor Who fan (small f), irrespective of a given thing's flaws, I'm more than capable of a great deal of appreciation.

Repeating Tomatoes

Ah, I remember the days of the old muzzle-loading flintlock Tomato. Now apparently some fellow named Winchester has developed a repeating model. There's progress.

But wait, it's possible I'm confusing things with the news that Ian Potter's radio comedy series No Tomatoes is enjoying a run of repeats, easily accessed by following one of the, er, following links:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbc7/listenagain/sunday/rams/2315.ram

or

http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbc7/listenagain/sunday/rams/0415.ram

Neatly chopped into fifteen minute segments, no tasteless greens to accompany them and the dressing is up to you. I can heartily recommend a listen. Of course, I *have* to - Mr Potter threatened me at the point of a squeezy ketchup bottle, but don't let that affect your decision. See, or hear, for yourself.

If you can find more laugh out loud moments in the space of fifteen minutes, sitting in front of your computer... then please send me the relevant links. :)

Stand-Up Comedy

Bill Bailey did the comedy, we did the standing up. To be fair, Bill was standing too for the duration of the concert and we didn't mind, because we were having such a great time. Rather like back when I was standing in the pouring rain, watching Peter Gabriel live at the Eden Project, I was having too good a time to notice. At least on this occasion the rain held off, so when we finally had to wind our way up the hill to the car park we could do so safe in the knowledge that we weren't going to be sticking to the car seats. Of course, it being a comedy show, there's no good way to relate the specifics and do them justice here - and more especially as it was Bill Bailey's random, rambling style - you had to be there! - but it's worth noting that, perhaps more than any other comic I know, it really did qualify as a concert. Somehow I tend to forget what a really good musician the fellow is, turning his hand to all manner of musical styles with ease. Suffice to say, there were bags - eco-friendly recyclable bags, I've no doubt, it being the Eden Project - of new material on offer, plus a selection of familiar favourites among the musical numbers in the encore. Laughs and singalongs too.

All of which is my roundabout way of saying, "We had a good time". So apologies to those of you who are left wondering why I couldn't have just cut to the chase and said that sooner! :)

SAD

Or, in this case, Mid-Season Adjustment Disorder. Adjusting to the mid-season break and the absence of Battlestar Galactica from our screens. Although why they didn't just go ahead and call the recent batch a short season like the makers of Heroes did with their 11 episodes (quite good, but not as compelling as the first series), I don't quite know. For a half-full glass, it seemed positively spilling over with developments. Enough to deserve the 'Season' label.

Oh well, not that a name makes a bundle of difference. It's still over and gone for the time being. And as well as our having to adjust to the BSG-shaped hole in our viewing habits, we're having to adjust to the huge curve ball they threw at us at the end. In much the same way, I guess, as the producers had to adjust their show to fit around the writers' strike. Such is the nature of TV these days that whenever there is a break - Season or mid - there's an obligation to deliver a big whammy of an ending. This one came up on us so fast, I have a sense it initially belonged at the end of episode 11.

But. I could be wrong.

(WARNING: SPOILERS UP AHEAD)

After all, it's not the first time BSG has done this sort of thing to us. If I cast my mind back to the end of Season 2 - and it's pretty easy to do, as the impressions are all still surprisingly vivid in my mind - I recall being wowed, while at the same time feeling a jolt, as events jumped forward "One Year Later..." and we were asked to adjust to a whole new ball game on New Caprica. Shaking up the status quo is one of the things that BSG is so exceptionally good at, but there are times when I think it could exercise a measure of patience when steering us into wildly different territory. I guess they don't feel that taking a little pace off the ball is the best approach, if their intention is to hit it out of the park.

But there we are, that's fans for you. We grumble when it's too slow, we grumble when it's all too fast. Pace is a tricky beast. Last year, the series felt like it was dragging its heels and/or treading water (tough combination) for a run of 4 episodes in the middle (an attempt to economise, by all accounts, after the budget blowout for the stunning Exodus at the beginning of the season). But that run included Dirty Hands, an episode which in hindsight I have greater respect for, not least because it provoked a great deal of thought and because it was in a similar vein to the first Season's Water, tackling core issues (labour disputes and water supplies, respectively) for a society of spacegoing refugees. Also because now, with the pressure on to move the central story forward, there hasn't been room for that kind of story and, what do you know, I rather miss it.

See. Fans: never satisfied.

Still, when all that's said and done, what Season 4 Part One (?) has delivered has been consistently compelling. Right from where it picks up after the *massive* cliffhanger from the previous season (and that, Rusty, is how it's done), where you have absolute confirmation - actually in the opening header - that yes, those four who thought they were Cylons are actually Cylons. And after that initial holy shit moment, we're straight into battle, emerging battered and bruised (in a good way) and certain only of one thing: everything has changed. Watching the reactions of Tory, Tyrol and Tigh in the light of their Cylon wake-up call is at least as fascinating as all the missile exchanges and explosions. Can we trust them at all now? Can they trust themselves? And, what's more, what the hell do we make of Starbuck? Or, perhaps, what has someone else made of her? And on top of that, out of one combat encounter between Anders and a Cylon raider, it's all change in the Cylon camp too. Now that's masterful.

As you'd expect things settle down a bit after that, but it's not as though we're really given time to breathe as we explore the impact and implications of these dramatic shifts. They really hit home for Chief Tyrol, while the calculating Tory adapts with frightening ease to life as a Cylon, and I'll be honest I felt the cold when Cally was blown out of that airlock. Thank Gaius that Baltar's still around to amuse us as he embraces his role as Messiah to his (mostly female) faithful disciples. In this series, you have to find humour wherever you can and even life in Baltar's harem isn't all laughs.

And as much as I might attempt to make light there, it's that moment of Cally's death that leaves an indelible mark as the series progresses, one that, more than simply confirming that, yes, we're in the final season so even regulars are viable targets, feeds into the climactic face-off in Revelations where Tigh offers himself up for sacrifice and lends proceedings startling conviction. You believe that Lee Adama might actually space the old soldier. You believe that the show itself might dispense with him.

Really though, I've no desire to relive every good bit. What am I saying? Of course I do - but I'll attend to that in a rewatch and here I'll confine myself to a brisk skimming some of the cream off the top: the cloak and dagger as the four newly revealed Cylons attend their weekly meetings; the Cylon centurions turning on Dean Stockwell et al and kicking off the Cylon civil war; the tensions on that cramped freighter as Starbuck and crew venture on their independent search for signs of the path to Earth; Gaeta crippled and suddenly rendered analogous to a Cylon hybrid, a navigator lying there and mumbling (all right, technically singing) in a world of his own, the Cylon hybrid snapping her eyes open and shouting, "Jump!" as she's plugged in and hijacking the base ship along with the President and all; Athena, driven to protect Hera, blowing a hole in Natalie - how thoroughly she lets down Adama - and how thoroughly he has a change of heart, when he appreciates what he is depriving her of by keeping her apart from her child; the unboxing of D'Anna (which I for one had been hoping for for some time) and her telling Roslin she was one of the Final Five (ha!); the Temptation of Laura Roslin, where she is handed the opportunity to murder Baltar; Adama's reunion with Roslin; Tigh standing up and grassing up his fellow Cylons. And *especially* Bill Adama collapsing as everything he knew and trusted in Tigh crumbles before him!

Holy, as I believe I mentioned before, shit.

Too many 'moments'. Taken together it's the progression that impresses, of the characters and of the series as a whole. It's not always speedy, but it's relentless.

And in part it's because of that generally careful pacing, allowing us time to sit back - or often sit forward, perched on the edge of our sofas - and admire that progression, it is a shame the final pointer to Earth is ultimately delivered so swiftly. It's such a principle goal of the series - at least, it's been perceived as such - it feels all too easy. Of course, that is then instantly mitigated by what they find there - in a classic 'be careful what you wish for' hard lesson - but even so. For my money, the events of those few minutes seem to call for another episode unto themselves.

(And my very sage friend, Stuart, points out, we could have been treated at the same time to a thread involving Gaeta and his discovery that he was 'tried' as a collaborator at the hands of a Cylon kangaroo court. That ought to have been another "holy shit!" episode right there. With perhaps the discovery of Earth being enough to prompt Gaeta to set the score aside.)

It's difficult, looking back, to see where cuts could have been made to facilitate that ending at this stage. Possibly we could have lived without Romo Lampkin and his cat. But I have to say, I like the character and the thread concerning Lee's ascension to the presidency is key, added to which there is much more concerning Adama going on in that episode. And in any case some radical shuffling around would have been required. So, who knows.

In the end, I suppose, it comes down to maths and the pressures of television. Ten episodes is all we were given at this point and there's that obligation, as I say, to deliver the BIG GASP moment at the break. In fairness, it was quite a GASP - epic Planet Of The Apes type stuff - and an amazing bit of imagery to take away with us and meditate on in the interim. What the hell does it all mean? Where are they going to take us next with this? (And where can I get a widescreen shot of that as a cast photo? :) ) And, as my wife pointed out to me when we were done watching, "just be glad they didn't finish it five minutes earlier."

In a sense, if they had, with Lee poised to push the button and expel Tigh into the chilly depths of space, well, I might not have been so persuaded that he was going to go through with it. As any of us who have watched Doctor Who recently will know, the actual cliffhanger is all too often just a tease preceding a cheat. BSG has, thus far, generally delivered on its promises, but awareness of the tricks might well have undermined that scene for me. Given the lengthy delay then until the second half, the 'semi-finale' we got was more fitting: an appropriate level of wow and the raising of a great many questions.

For that, I'll forgive the relative haste. Two seasons ago, like I say, I was in a similar position, and BSG came back with Exodus. That just means a lot now is riding on the second half and the actual series Finale. And in that sense, nothing has changed. Even if everything else has, apparently.

Change is as good as a rest, they say. Which is presumably why they're giving us one at this stage. Now I guess it's just a case of sorting out the half-time entertainment.

Cheats Cheats Never Beat

Except, apparently, in our new brand of Doctor Who. Where they do repeatedly. And especially in the season finales. The latest of which, Journey's End, was a triumph of cheap story telling over whatever budget and/or extra minutes had been thrown its way.

At least as ludicrous and OTT as last week's, despite my wise decision to accompany the closing chapter with just as much beer, it couldn't even succeed as comedy. It demonstrates a rare gift, I suppose: allowing events to spiral so insanely out of control while driving things inexorably towards whatever conclusion is desired. Then again, it's not that difficult if you know that no matter how mad and massive the scenario you can always pull a cheat out of - let's say your hat at the end. This though was worse than usual. This was a slap-in-the-face insult to any of us who still retained a grain of faith in the idea that, no, he couldn't possibly do the same to us *again*.

Just before it starts, I'm turning to my wife and laying money on the Doctor somehow negating the regeneration by using the spare hand. To which I add the notion that the hand will then grow into a fully-formed spare Doctor. Five minutes later, on top of that cheat (and with it the delivery of a multiple Doctor story - the Two-And-A-Half Doctors? - the one thing this already overcrowded farce was really missing), we're going for the damp-squib hat-trick, with Sarah Jane Smith miraculously rescued by Jackie and Mickey appearing out of nowhere and Torchwood's very own Butch & Sundance being saved by an even more miraculous temporal force field for no very good reason.

Then, against the odds, it's all downhill from there.

If, by any chance, you had any burning questions from last week's episode - e.g. What part will the Shadow Proclamation have to play in the conclusion? Why was Rose quite so anxious about the Doctor's potential regeneration? For what sinister purpose are the Daleks herding all the humans out of their homes? - your answers, although supplied, would likely be disappointing: e.g. "none whatsoever", "because she really was that shallow that she only fancied the David Tennant version" and "to test their Mighty Weapon on about twelve of them".

But never mind, what do these questions matter when the big fanwank list from the previous week is further engorged by the inclusion of Mickey - oh! - Jackie - oh! - and even climaxing with - ooooooh! - K9! Surely fans could never contain their excitement in the face of that lot!

Heck, I'll even admit to a little buzz of my own when Davros remembers Sarah Jane. Well, who wouldn't? But back off, Davros, I had a crush on her before you came along.

That aside though, what was it all for? This gathering of the Children Of Time? Well, after another thankfully shorter webcam conference, apparently it was all so they could be detained in the one place while the Doctor and Davros had a chat. At which point, I'm glad to say, Rusty doesn't even attempt to rival the momentous exchange between everyone's favourite crippled Kaled scientist and Tom Baker's Doctor in Genesis Of The Daleks. Although, at the same time, I kind of wish he had tried: it might have invested the scene and, maybe the story, with some weight as a counterbalance to the nonsense.

Nonsense rules, though, in this universe. And I guess if the situation is as nonsensical as possible, the theory is we shouldn't care that it's resolved with a cheat. It's the pattern. We had it back in The Parting Of The Ways, with all that Rose as Goddess of the Vortex stuff. We had it in Doomsday, with the big 'Invasion OFF' switch. We had it in Last Of The Time Lords - oh, how we had it in that one - with Doctor Dobby becomes Jesus and the Big Undo. And, did you notice, how they become steadily worse? We should have been more prepared for this one.

And it's funny, but when I think back to the first season and The Parting Of The Ways, I recall being generally positive about the future, thinking that, despite the DEMs and cheap get-outs, if this is the starting point and they only learn to iron out the various wrinkles and problems, we'll really be onto something here. But Rusty appears to be a writer who takes criticism on board, then throws it right back over the side. In our faces.

Because not only have the excesses and the weak endings grown worse, with Journey's End, it's almost as though he's taking one of the key things for which he's been criticised and sticking it out at us like a big fat tongue. He's taking the piss.

Cheap get-out endings? Ha! I can do you a half-dozen of those! Martha's so unbelievably dumb Osterhagen Key! Sarah Jane's Warp Star necklace! The (Alternative Tenth) Doctor's attempt to tune the Reality Bomb (and what the merry wotsit was that about?) to the Daleks' DNA! Nope, we're going to cleverly throw those over in favour of demented Dalek Caan's senseless betrayal and some frantic tapping on a large keyboard to blow up all the Daleks and their ships (and perhaps I missed it, but what happened to all the other humans who were taken on board the Dalek Crucible?) and return the planets home, followed by having the TARDIS tow the Earth back into position (what's the Moon been doing in the meantime?) in the style of an ad that's running currently that shows the UK being towed to the Bahamas.

And we can go one better than that. We can then top it all off with a coda that cheapens both the prophesy of the death of the most faithful companion and, worst of all, one that cheapens Rose's heart-wrenching (original) departure in Doomsday (that story's principle saving grace!). As Rose herself puts it, "You mean, I travelled all that way, looking for you and for what?" Okay, I'm paraphrasing, but that's what it feels like. It's okay for her - she gets over it incredibly quickly once the faux Doctor has whispered in her ear. But for the rest of us, well, I for one feel thoroughly cheated.

There's more, when it comes down to it, that's wrong with Journey's End. Frankly, I didn't imagine it would be worth as many words as I've wasted here.

But, as well as those hopeful, optimistic thoughts I was left with at the end of Series One, I was also inadvertently reminded of a time last year when I was asked by a friend to give a little talk to some primary school kids on 'Writing For Doctor Who.' It was only a really small occasion and I'm really not the best qualified for that sort of thing, but I enjoyed the experience and it was great to see the enthusiasm kids had for the show. My friend, the teacher, even had me judge a little story writing competition and it was fun reading through the best entries and picking out the winner.

Of course, there was very little structure in any of those stories and things happened largely because the very young authors wanted them to. That's the way I used to write at that age, and of course I'd come up with Daleks versus Cybermen stories and cram as many of my favourite Doctor Who companions and monsters into each adventure. And if you're stuck for an ending, well, the Doctor can wave his sonic screwdriver or turn back time (actually I don't think I ever did that one! ;) ) or events can take a helpful turn, people can even show up from nowhere with big guns or something and bail your heroes out. What the heck, it's fun.

And ideally, you learn from all that. And if you ever have the fortune to become a professional writer, particularly in a competitive field like, say, television, you might expect to grow out of it. And before anyone points out that Doctor Who is a kids' show, let me 'counter-point' out that no, it was always a family show. Now, more than ever, yes, it is juvenile, wearing its childishness on its sleeves. But even if we accept that it is and perhaps should be an outright kids' show, I have to ask, when did it become a good thing to start writing down to children?

While my teacher friend is teaching the kids about storyboarding, plotting out their tales and thinking in advance about beginnings, middles and ends, Doctor Who it seems is now teaching them, no, make it all up as you go along and when it comes to your resolutions, your problem-solving, any cheap get-out will do. Really, if you're going to carry on down this route, I'd be tempted to say, just get the kids to write it.

People mocked when Terrance Dicks released Warmonger for BBC Books because it was so jam-packed with monsters and characters trawled from Who's vast continuity ocean. Another real fanwankfest, by most accounts. I've not read it, but can it be any worse than any of Rusty's more excessive TV offerings? I doubt it. And yet because it has flashy CGI flying saucers (and, okay, it also had Bernard Cribbins who was great), I've no doubt people will tell you Journey's End is fantastic and if you can't see that, perhaps you're really not a Doctor Who fan.

Well, perhaps I don't qualify any more. But I am a fan of good drama, good adventure stories, inventive, colourful, imaginative writing that inspires. Fortunately, it seems as far as the kids are concerned, Doctor Who still checks all those boxes - the kids needn't concern themselves with the dramatic letdowns and for them a pointlessly resurrected character is just the pleasure of seeing that character again. But I am slightly concerned that maybe they'll grow up with the idea that this is good storytelling. Kids, it's not. It's rubbish.

Daleks, Davros, K9, Sarah Jane et al (and especially Sarah Jane ;) ) are exciting creations, but they can be that much more exciting in stories that aren't a) complete nonsense and b) riddled with dramatic cheats and cheap get-outs.

Luckily, there's a writer poised to take over who won't write down to you. Steven Moffatt's stories may have scared you, but don't hold that against him: he's also shown he'll give you the respect you deserve. And, I'm optimistic, give us the Doctor Who we want.