For A Friend

I thought I’d write a quick blog on my friend Justin Richards, who died on 28 June, following a decade living with early-onset fronto-temporal dementia. Just to get my feelings and memories down while I have a gap between projects.

I would’ve first become aware of his work through his Doctor Who novels. Because they were amongst the best. I remember System Shock taking place at a country mansion that was now being used as a computer research centre, almost entirely unlike IBM Hursley where Justin worked. And I particularly enjoyed – and I’m not sure enjoyed is a big enough word for it – The Sands of Time. You know all the ‘timey-wimey’ stuff in Blink and the Matt Smith era of Doctor Who? The Sands of Time did it all first.

And it was books like The Sands of Time that inspired me to have a go at submitting my own idea for a Doctor Who book – when they were published by BBC Books Justin was the editor of The Past Doctor Adventures. This was around the time that the initial wave of novel writers were going off to work on television soap operas and so Justin was on the look out for new writers to take over. My submission was a story called The Beautiful Death, which was timey-wimey to the nth degree, to the point of being a farce, and a few weeks after I sent it in, I got a letter back from Justin, who had been passed my submission from the ‘slush pile’ by Jac Rayner. This letter began with “Many thanks for your proposal The Beautiful Death which I very much enjoyed reading”, continued with two pages of notes, mentioned in passing that “Your sample prose is fine” and ended with the paragraph “You can probably guess from the level of comment that revised version of this proposal, accommodating as many of the points I’ve made as you think are merited”.

You cannot imagine my excitement at reading that. I felt like Charlie Bucket getting the ticket to the chocolate factory. I was on my way to getting to write a Doctor Who book! And his notes were all helpful – he suggested doing a flow-chart to keep track of the time-travel, just as he had done with The Sands of Time, so I duly worked one out over five stapled together sheets of paper (it was that complicated). But looking at it now, I’m struck by those final words. “As many of the points I’ve made as you think are merited”. He wasn’t telling me what to do, making a commission conditional on following his suggestions. He was, if anything, inviting me to disagree if I had a better idea.

And that, I think, was very typical of him. Anyway, I went off and wrote the book that became Festival of Death, and because it was my first one I found it terribly difficult and fell behind the deadlines, which Justin seemed to tolerate because I was sending him each chapter as I wrote it (so he knew the book was being written) and because I think he realised that I wasn’t sending him first drafts, I was sending him the fifth or sixth drafts, so he wouldn’t have much work to do on it. Looking at his emails now (I still have them), he’s keen to reassure me that it’s “going very well indeed” and his notes are all to do with tips on avoiding pitfalls rather than the plot.

I got the chance to thank him a while later, when I met him for the first time at the Big Finish launch party (to celebrate the release of The Sirens of Time – I was there because I was on the list to write one in the next year). I remember that evening very well, mostly because I didn’t know anyone there apart from Gary Russell and was far too intimidated to try to join the conversations of the great and the good. But Justin, bless him, sought me out and chatted to me, and because I was literally Jonny No-Mates he let me look through the script of Red Dawn, covered with Gary’s red-pen notes, which I found fascinating and useful.

Of course, I later became friends with all of the great and the good, because writing a Doctor Who book turned out to be the passport to a new social life, going to the Tavern and whatnot. It is no understatement to say that it changed my life, very much for the better. And getting that commission also gave me confidence in my ability as a writer – of which I had previously had very little – which led to it becoming my career. It all started with Justin, so if you want someone to blame...

Anyway, let’s fast-forward. He commissioned me to write two more Doctor Who books, both for the Eighth Doctor in what was generally regarded as the ‘more important’ range. Justin had recently taken it over and relaunched with a fantastic novel called The Burning which I used as the basis for the structure for Anachrophobia; completely different plot but with the highs and lows at the same points. And after Festival of Death, I made a point of handing it on time. And then, in 2003, I received this email from Justin:

“I have a need for a startlingly good EDA proposal starring the Doctor, Fitz and Trix in a standalone adventure of incredible excitement and awe-inspiring novelty told with the use of the best prose to be had in this part of the galaxy.

So naturally, I thought of you.

No, this isn't a competition where you later discover, like with Readers Digest, that 27 other people were told the same thing and we're looking for a 'winner.'

I am looking for a winner, but I'm asking you if you have any ideas and inclination.  If so, let's try and make it happen.  If not, then that's fine, I'll move on down the list (and yes, you were top of it).”

How could I refuse an email like that? Even though I had, for a brief shining moment, television production companies badgering me to hand in the scripts they had paid me for, I couldn’t turn down the chance to write one last Doctor Who book. And I did think it would be the last; not just my last Doctor Who story but the last one of all, as the book range was on the brink of cancellation. That one was The Tomorrow Windows. Justin:

“Thanks for all the hard work - I know it's been a slog, to say the least, but I think it's paid off.  A well-constructed, amusing and perceptive novel that I reckon the punters will really enjoy.  (Well, all except those who have already decided they won't enjoy anything no matter what...)”

Looking through my emails, the next time I met Justin would’ve been at Dave Owen’s stag do. I’m pretty sure I was there but I remember nothing about it. But, like the 1960s, if you remember Dave Owen’s stag do, you weren’t there. Justin:

“For those who missed it, thanks for the warnings and apologies and be assured that I passed on your regards/sympathies/congratulations etc as appropriate.  Just to make you feel even better about it, we had a terrific time with topics of conversation ranging from marriage, fatherhood and babies, an interesting and appropriate description of the size of Katy Manning's mouth, where there are bus stops near Crystal Palace Park, who actually ordered what food, wine or beer decisions, strips clubs around the world, Day of Armageddon (a Doctor Who episode, not next Saturday), and other topics too numerous and rude to mention.”

I do remember Dave Owen’s wedding, though, and spending a lot of time chatting with Justin. I remember his sons had brought along a load of books and seemed to read about three each during the course of the dinner. He was clearly bringing them up correctly.

After that... I saw Justin a few times, at other parties and weddings – including my own – and I’d let him know what I thought of the latest The Invisible Detective book. The Invisible Detective was a range of books for the Young Adult market set in the 1930s which somehow, and I don’t know how this happened, managed to include lots of Doctor Who in-jokes; you know, there’d be an Egyptian mummy in the London sewers, that sort of thing. Sadly Justin never finished the series but that’s publishing for you.

I knew he still had me on the list to write Doctor Who books, cos he told me so - “I think the right opportunity will present itself before too long. You are certainly on my list :-)” and because roughly once a year I’d get an email from him checking my availability for something that was purely hypothetical but which needed to be written over the next six weeks. That’s also publishing for you.

But it turned out the next thing we’d work on would be Jago & Litefoot. He asked me to write an episode for nearly all the seasons – I skipped three, four and eight and retired due to creative exhaustion after series ten. It sort of settled into a pattern, with me writing either the first or third story of each box set – the easy ones, because it would be either introducing stuff or going-on-a-self-contained-detour – while Justin did the hard work of tying things together and paying them off in all the episode fours.

What I remember mostly about the process, though, would be that for each series Justin would put together these incredibly detailed Writers’ Guides, with suggested settings, information about all the characters and what should happen in each episode – for instance:

5.1 – Get Jago!

In which we find Litefoot and Jago have settled into 1968, with help from Ellie, and are about to meet the descendent of an old colleague...

Writer: Jonathan Morris

Main Cast: Jago, Litefoot, Ellie, Sacker

Guest Cast: 2 others

Brief Appearance by:  Guinevere Godiva

Date:  May 1968

After the opening scenes of Episode 1, we rejoin Jago and Litefoot several months later... Maybe we enter their world through the experiences of DS Sacker, who is investigating Ellie as part of the Kray Tiwns case...  This leads him to Litefoot and then – to his surprise – to the rising star of TV Jago.

Sacker finds the pair of them (and to a point Ellie) rather odd.  He is intrigued to discover that Ellie has bought an antiquarian bookshop and set up Litefoot as manager.  Does the man have some hold over her – and where did he come from?  When he questions Litefoot, he is amazed to find he is also a friend of Jago: how unlikely is that?  Digging deeper, he is astonished to realise that the two of them seem to him, and bluster about his grandfather…

At some point, Sacker will dig out and check his grandfather’s diaries… then things get really weird. 

Our first encounter with Guinevere Godiva is in this episode, when Jago features Guinevere Godiva’s magic act on his show. In a brief discussion with her afterwards, there is mention of her fascination with the stage magicians of the Victorian era, and Jago’s equivocal reaction intrigues her…

The main story could involve the notorious Kray Twins (perhaps they have discovered Ellie’s secret?) or not.  But it needs to establish our general set-up, and Litefoot’s research into possible ways back to 1893. Perhaps Litefoot might suggest to Sacker how the Kray Twins could be brought down – they were arrested on 8th May 1968 in the hope that once in custody previously silent witnesses would feel safe to testify against them.  This proved to be the case...

The Crystal: During the episode, Jago will reveal to Litefoot that he pocketed a crystal from the cave on Venus when they were planting the explosives.  It’s about the size of an egg and looks like a huge diamond.  If he concentrates, Jago can make it glow faintly.  Litefoot points out that the crystals in the cave stored the mental energy – the minds, indeed – of the ancient Cythereans. It must act like a recording device for the mind...

...which would then be mostly ignored as the writers pitched entirely different stories – in this case, The Age Of Revolution, a thinly-veiled take on the Festival of Light movement. Indeed, I was always amused when the final box set would come out and how wildly different they were to the initial plans – with Justin having to bear the brunt of maintaining continuity and bringing things together. I was also very amused by the Writers’ Guide for Series 9, the one where Jago and Litefoot are on a cruise, which had a list of eight fellow-travellers, which was way more than could possibly be included on the budget, followed by the section on ‘keeping it simple’.

I loved doing Jago & Litefoot, but if I had to name one Doctor Who story that was a labour of love, it would be my Eleventh Doctor novel, Touched by an Angel. Which started with an email from Justin – the subject was an unassuming “Busy?”:

"So, are you up for writing a Who novel, then?   

I can't brief you properly till we've had our Series 6 briefing meeting next month, but we can certainly get thinking. Just need to make sure we don't tread on any 2011-TV-Who toes - once I know where they are wriggling.

Basically, I'd be looking for a Doctor, Amy and Rory story - not sure yet if I want it present day or future / off-Earth (though not in a space station)..."

I pitched several ideas and Justin phoned me up, suggesting I combine two of them and add the Weeping Angels. I’ve blogged about this already here. 

The process was much easier this time – I handed in the book early – and got this response:

“I've finally got round to reading your lovely book, and have a few comments and suggestions, which I've attached.  I hope it all makes sense. As usual, everything I haven't mentioned (ie, almost all of it) is absolutely gob-droppingly brilliant :-)”

I’ve only just noticed the smiley at the end there. I think that was just a happy smiley, not a ‘this is a joke’ smiley. Probably best not to dwell on it.

Anyway, around this time I’d had an idea of writing a book about Shakespeare, where I’d treat his plays in the same way that a science-fiction series episode guide book would treat them. It didn’t go anywhere, and thank god I didn’t waste too much time on it, but I’d sent it to Justin for his thoughts, as he was a fellow Shakespeare buff, which meant he kept me in mind for The Lost Notebooks of William Shakespeare, as it was originally called. Another fun gig.

But what was more significant for my bank balance was that he also got BBC Books to reprint Festival of Death – I’m still getting royalties from it today – and that he asked me to write another Doctor Who novel in 2016. This was a very quick job – I wrote it in January 2017, handing it in on the 31st – and Justin wrote back to say “I’ll get to it as soon as I can”.

And that’s the last email I have from him. I was told to send the book to someone else, and the book was copy-edited by Steve Tribe, who must’ve taken over the project. I didn’t think anything of it; that’s publishing for you.

I did email Justin a few times after that, asking for his help with things, but never heard anything back. I later learned from a mutual friend that Justin had been diagnosed with early-onset dementia and had been forced to stop work. I’ve had a family member with dementia, and it can be a cruel disease, not just for the sufferer but for their carers, and it seemed particularly unfair that Justin should have it, because he had such a fabulous memory, and because he still had so many more stories to tell. That was what was taken from us. It’s not unlike to what happened to Terry Pratchett. And I missed seeing him at events in the years since, just to catch up in person, but the other cruelty of dementia is that sufferers can lose the ability to socialise, to recognise their friends and to express themselves.

I thought a lot of him over the past ten years. Particularly during lockdown, which was bad enough for the rest of us, but to go through that with dementia could only have been even harder. And I thought of his family. I always felt that I should let Justin know how much he meant to me, while I still could. And so I sent them this message.

"My wife and I were very sad to hear of Justin’s illness. It is no overstatement to say that I owe my entire writing career, and all of the ensuing friendships, and meeting my wife, to Justin, and his decision to commission me to write Festival of Death all those years ago. The entire course of my life changed when he sent that letter. In terms of moments of sheer joy, reading that letter is up there with getting married and the birth of my son. And he has always been a very good friend to me since, tolerating some late deliveries, and getting me back to write Touched By An Angel, Plague City and all those episodes of Jago & Litefoot. I remain in awe of his patience and kindness. And, needless to say, I have always been a massive admirer of his work, which continues to inspire me.

If you could pass that onto him, it would be much appreciated."

For Justin Richards, 1961-2026

(Just Like) Starting Over

Paul Magrs is wrong!

A few weeks ago my friend, the marvellous writer Paul Magrs, did a video blog proposing that when (If? No! When!) Doctor Who returns, it should be as a reboot. You can watch it here.

But, of course, I disagree. Apologies in advance to Paul if I mischaracterise any of his arguments. I’ve watched his video once, I’m not going to watch it again. But basically, the idea is that Doctor Who needs a fresh start. A clean sweep, a new slate. The Etch-a-Sketch requires a vigorous shake. Why? Because it’s got bogged down in what we fans like to call ‘continuity’ but which others might call ‘lore’ or ‘baggage’. It’s a combination of ‘stories which are just about bringing back stuff’ and ‘all the stuff you need to know in order to understand them’. Or, indeed, ‘playing to the gallery’, with the gallery being the existing fanbase. In much the same way that you are expected to have watched other films and TV series in order to fully comprehend the latest superhero films or Star Wars instalments. It kind of turns a hobby into homework and is the sort of thing that means you’re not going to be getting new, young fans jumping on board because, quite frankly, they have better things to do.

And, yes, Doctor Who has got itself bogged down. It’s mostly an age thing. Star Trek is similarly enmired. But it’s more of a symptom than a cause. A symptom of creative exhaustion. You can certainly look at Strange New Worlds, or the Ncuti Gatwa years of Doctor Who, and get a sense that the people making it want to get away from telling stories in the existing format. Rather than telling Star Trek stories or Doctor Who stories, you get stories based around gimmicks, combined with the ‘action figure’ approach of bringing characters and monsters back as a quick and cheap way to score fan points – but as Doctor Who has already used all the good action figures, it’s now having to resort to the Dapol playset.

But, of course, it doesn’t have to be that way. About a third of the Gatwa episodes did really cool and original and interesting things, you know, 73 Yards and Dot and Bubble (the episode with least Gatwa presence, which may or may not be a correlation). Just because a show is old, it doesn’t have to be bogged down in ‘continuity’, it doesn’t have to rely on past knowledge or be a roll-call of familiar faces. And you may have spotted that these episodes were by Russell T Davies, which brings me to another point. The fan writer paradox.

The paradox is this; that, actually, it is usually the writers that are most familiar with Doctor Who that are the least beholden to ‘continuity’. They are, usually, and yes there are exceptions to this rule, more interested in doing new stuff precisely because they know what’s been done before and don’t wish to repeat it. While, paradoxically, it’s writers that aren’t ‘fans’ that tend to draw upon continuity the most; mentioning past Doctors, referring to previous stories. I’m not sure why this is, but I think it might be that they are trying to demonstrate that they have done their homework and think it is the sort of thing that makes fans happy. When, of course, we all know that nothing will make fans happy.

At which point I’m sure some readers will go, 'hang on Jonny, you great steaming hypocrite, half the stories you write for Big Finish are full of continuity! Like insane amounts. Didn’t you write a sequel to The Keys Of Marinus? Didn’t you write a prequel to The Invisible Enemy? Didn’t you write a three-hour story just to explain why the Abbot of Amboise in The Massacre of St Bartholomew’s Eve looks like the First Doctor?' And so on and so on, the list of my glories is extensive. So, yes, it’s a fair cop, I’m banged to rights, but firstly, that’s writing specifically for the fan market, where the more familiar faces there are on the cover – whether they be the faces of Doctors, companions, monsters or foes – the more reasons you are giving someone has to buy it. They are selling points. You know, River Song, Nyssa and the return of Pangol from The Leisure Hive, who could resist a line-up like that. Take my money, as they say. But that’s a product which is catering to pre-existing fans – not what the television series should do. And secondly, I’d point out the other half of my stories don’t do that, they might feature an old Doctor and companion or two but that’s it, the rest of the story is all-new, freshly forged from my all-too-fevered imagination. So there’s nothing about being a fan writer that means you have to – or even desire to – tell stories steeped in continuity.

But, to go back to the paradox, it is the case that if you look at all the stories that fans love – and which were most popular with the general audience – you’re looking at a list of stories mainly written by die-hard fans like Russell T Davies and Steven Moffat, people who knew the show inside-out and knew how to make the format sing, and if you look at the bottom of the list you’re looking at a load of stories by writers who had little previous interest in the programme and who were trying to blag it. It does tend to be the case that writers who love Doctor Who create the best Doctor Who stories. It feels like that should be a statement of the obvious but it’s not.

Anyway, I have wandered far away from doing what I set out to do, which was to rebut Paul Magrs’ foolish notions, so let’s get back to that. So, yes, I can understand the appeal of wanting to reboot Doctor Who. After all, imagine all the stories you could tell! The Doctor’s first meeting with the Daleks. The Doctor’s first meeting with the Cybermen. The Doctor’s first meeting with the Ice Warriors. And so on. But... that’s about it. Apart from that, there aren’t really any stories you can tell that you couldn’t tell without it being a reboot.

And there are two problems with doing ‘the Doctor’s first meeting with the Daleks’ again. Firstly, once you’ve told that story, you’re back to where you were with the Daleks being familiar foes with a whole load of new continuity building up – back to square one, basically. And secondly, that story is still going to be defined by continuity because it’ll be informed by what it does the same or differently from the original first Dalek story; it’ll still be playing the ‘fan service’ game, and if anything it’ll be even more steeped in continuity because it’ll be reprising (to some extent) what has gone before. Like a cover version, it becomes an exercise in reproduction and reinterpretation.

And thirdly – I know I said there were two problems but I have no respect for continuity – a lot of viewers watching it are gonna go, ‘Hang on, why doesn’t the Doctor know who the Daleks are, he’s met them loads of times before, did he get kicked in the head by a Zygon?’ so you have that getting in the way too.

But mainly the problem with reboots is, well, you can see it with Superman, Batman and Spider-Man. Every ten years, they start again, telling the origin story, usually in an even darker and more child-unfriendly way than before. Which is of understandable if you’re a multi-billion-dollar business trying to make a risk-free consumer product but creatively it is death. Why tell new stories when you can tell the old ones again, but with a fresh lick of paint?

I can sort-of see the appeal of going, ‘hey, Genesis of the Daleks was terrific, why don’t we do that story again for a modern audience?’ But, really, what made Genesis of the Daleks great was that it was made in 1975, with Tom Baker, Lis Sladen and Ian Marter, with Michael Wisher as Davros and so on. It could be done again with more expensive sets, better special effects, and maybe slightly less of the giant clam, but it wouldn’t be as good. It would just be an exercise in frustration, at all the things it changed – ‘got wrong’ – and all of the things it accurately recreated but to lesser effect.

(I can also sort-of see the appeal of going ‘Let’s give the Doctor a sense of mystery again’. But... even with a reboot, everyone’s still gonna know he’s a Time Lord from Gallifrey, and has the ability to regenerate. Unless you intend to contradict it, you’re stuck with the baggage, whether you’re starting from scratch or not.)

But the great thing about Doctor Who, and surely a large part of its appeal to audiences and prospective producers, is that it can tell new stories. It is a story-generating machine. A machine that can definitely get gummed up with continuity, it gets into the workings and slows it down and makes it creak and sputter, but that just means you need to keep it well-oiled, well-fuelled with new ideas, and keep the amount of continuity to an absolute minimum.

So, with that pleasingly sustained metaphor, I’ll move on to what I think they should do. Because the baggage is a problem, I agree, it really bloody is. Never mind Gallifrey, we have all the Timeless Child and Fugitive Doctor stuff as well, and bloody UNIT and at least two spare David Tennant Doctors hanging around making the multiverse look untidy.

So what I’d do is – scene 1 – the Doctor wakes up on the floor of the TARDIS. He doesn’t know who he is beyond the fact that he’s called the Doctor. But Doctor... who? He doesn’t know about Time Lords or Gallifrey or that he’s got two hearts. He can remember the TARDIS and vaguely how to operate it – inaccurately a lot of the time. But that’s it. He doesn’t remember the Daleks or Cybermen or any of his other foes or friends. So if he encounters them again, as far as he’s concerned it’s the first time.

This gives you all the benefits of a clean-slate, while also being a continuation. And, yes, it’s more-or-less exactly what Justin Richards did in the books with the Eighth Doctor, for the same reason. It was a good idea and it worked (okay, it could have been clearer what exactly the Doctor did and didn’t remember, but apart from that). I realise ‘amnesia’ has a bad reputation, because the books did it a lot and it’s been done a lot elsewhere to diminishing effect, but right now, for the television show, it would solve a lot of problems. If the problem is that the Doctor is Mr Know-all... take that away.

And, of course, it gives you a story. The Doctor will want to know more about himself. He has a reason to explore – to find himself, as the cliché goes. And the viewer will want to know what it was that caused the Doctor to lose his memories, what was this terrible cataclysm that befell him, and they will want to see him finally getting them back, in the season finale in four years’ time. So you have something to build towards. But on the way you can have so much fun. Imagine if the Doctor started regenerating and didn’t know what was happening to him! Imagine him meeting the Daleks and thinking they’re the good guys, and they, of course, play along with it. You have new stories you can tell! With the added bonus that you can still tell the old stories too. And you have the sense of mystery back too – if the Doctor doesn’t know who he is, we don’t know who he is either.

So, yes, Doctor wakes up, floor of TARDIS, sees console, lots of tempting buttons, what does this do, it lands somewhere, present day Earth maybe, and he’s out into a brave new world, a new man. He doesn’t know anything apart from one thing. He needs to find a friend.

That’s what I’d do.

Requiem For Katarina

Following on from watching the first three episodes of The Daleks’ Masterplan, one’s thoughts inevitably turn to the missing fourth part, ‘The Traitors’. Even though we have the episode after it as well (‘Counter Plot’), quite a lot of it remains a mystery. Here’s a few thoughts on what we know and don’t know.

Firstly, we have a clip of nearly a minute’s length, from shot 27 (Steven saying “Stop that! Turn the talkback on again!”) to shot 34 (Steven shouting “Katarinaaaaa!”). Although this sequence is given as scenes 3-7 in the camera script, it’s shot as continuous action and all clearly on the same set. What may come as a surprise to viewers of ‘Devil’s Planet’ is that this sequence begins about 3 mins 45s into the episode, rather than straight after the cliffhanger; there’s a whole scene with Kirksen holding Katarina outside the airlock where we left them in ‘Devil’s Planet’, then a fairly pointless scene with the Daleks shooting the breeze in their control room, before we return to the Spar and Bret making the ship lurch and Steven trying to rush Kirksen, causing him to back into the airlock with Katarina and shut the door behind him.

This is all fairly straightforward. There don’t seem to be any moving stars or planets on screens, as seen in ‘Devil’s Planet’. Then, of course, we come to the first big mystery; Katarina’s death. About 30 seconds of film seems to have been shot (55” of film according to the PasB, 43” according to the camera script, and film runs at about 1.5” per second for 25fps), which corresponds to how long the eerie ‘Requiem for Katrina’ music runs on the soundtrack. But, perhaps surprisingly (it surprised me) the shot of Katarina and Kirksen floating through space doesn’t come immediately after they are ejected from the airlock, but about a minute later, after the Doctor has given Katarina’s eulogy (“A SPEECH HERE TO COVER THE CHARACTER OF THE GIRL, AND HER BELIEF THAT INDEED SHE WOULD BE THE DAUGHTER OF THE GODS. I’LL LEAVE THIS TO YOU AS THE SPEECH DEPENDS ON WHAT YOU HAVE PREVIOUSLY ESTABLISHED” -Terry Nation, legendary writer).

Famously (amongst Doctor Who fans) the shot of K and K floating weightlessly through space was achieved by filming the actors on a trampoline (although Kirksen may have been replaced by the trampoline instructor; to be honest, nobody would care or notice). From the film script, we know that four shots were planned (although we can’t be sure they were all used in the finished episode, of course). There are two shots of Katarina ‘“floating” in space in front of a Back Projection screen, using the trampoline to get elevation (shoot very fast)’ and two similar shots of Kirksen. The Back Projection was of ‘moon slides’. The film script says the trampoline would have black drapes, and for Katarina and Kirksen’s second shots there would also be two blankets (?) and a wind machine.

This is all well and good but... how did it look? According to actress Adrienne Hill, the camera was positioned below them, but it couldn’t shoot through a trampoline mat so I’m guessing it was just from a point beside the trampoline at floor level. A back projection would be against a vertical screen on the other side of the trampoline, which would limit the angle to being less than 45 degrees to the horizontal. So I’m guessing viewers would have seen K and K caught in mid-air, hair and beard wafting in graceful slow-motion, an image of the moon behind them (the paperwork gives no further details) but how it was lit I have no idea. And, indeed, what the blankets were for.

I mentioned the fairly pointless scene in the Daleks’ control room. There’s another one after the film sequence, this time with Trantis, played by Roy Evans as in ‘Day of Armageddon’ and presumably looking more-or-less the same, with the control room also looking more-or-less the same as in ‘Devil’s Planet’, so no mysteries there. The mix from a close-up of Trantis to the night sky in the next scene probably looked a bit groovy though.

After another brief scene in the Spar, we shift to Mavic Chen’s office on Earth. There are no photos of this set (indeed, as far as I can tell, there are no photos from ‘The Traitors’ at all, or from ‘Counter Plot’ either for that matter but nobody cares about that because the episode exists). We do, however, have the floor plan for this episode which, as well as providing confirmation that the Dalek control room was the same as in ‘Devil’s Planet’, gives us an idea of Chen’s office. It seems to have been far more exotic that the one you might find in one of the episode reconstructions, with ‘Galt Glass’ shapes surrounding Chen’s crescent-shaped desk. I am a keen believer in leaving areas open for other researchers to explore and I am happy for the details of ‘Galt Glass’ to be one of them.

Another thing the reconstructions have probably been getting wrong is Chen’s screen. As far as I can tell, it wouldn’t have been a back-projection filling a rear wall, like the one in ‘The Nightmare Begins’. Instead, what they seem to have done – or planned – is for the back projection to be reflected by a mirror onto a free-standing screen in front of Chen’s desk, giving the impression of it being, well, a holographic projection. How well this was achieved, I wish we knew! What we do know is that the identity projection was of Nicholas Courtney as Bret Vyon, naked from the waist up. It consisted of two shots – 45 seconds of Bret revolving slowly on the spot in medium shot (presumably from the waist up, thus implying full Brigadier nudity) and then about 155 seconds of a medium close-up of his head and shoulders revolving slowly. According to Camfield’s film requirements: ‘It is lit to give a contrasty feeling. The projection is the end product of computerised data. So, now you know......’

This scene features the return of the lovely Lizan – thanks to ‘The Nightmare Begins’ we know what she looked like – and introduces Karlton, whose gaunt, Putin-esque looks are familiar to us from ‘Counter Plot’.

We then mix from a close-up of Karlton to a ‘computer pattern’ on a screen in the Spar – again, this may have looked a bit groovy – for another plot-inching-forward scene with the Doctor, Steven and Bret, before returning to Chen’s office. In the camera script he operates a futuristic telephone – ‘a strange receiver-like object’. I can’t see any sign of one in ‘Counter Plot’, so what it looked like is another fascinating mystery (although it might just be an ordinary receiver-like object like the one Roald checks in ‘The Nightmare Begins’).

Scene 13 finds the Doctor, Bret and Steven in a corridor in the Experimental Plant, and we can get a vivid sense of how nondescript it was as it’s the same corridor that we see at the beginning of ‘Counter Plot’. Scene 14, we’re back in Chen’s office, for Sara Kingdom’s introduction, but we know what she looks like, moving on.

Scene 15 is much more interesting, as it takes place in Daxtar’s office. We don’t know what it looked like, or what Daxtar looked like. I mean, we know he looked like the actor Roger Avon, but that’s about all. As for the office, well, we know it was ‘comfortable in an extremely futuristic way’, had curved walls, a settee, a desk and a 60” diameter lampshade over a ‘daybed’ but that’s about it. (When the scene begins, the Doctor and Bret are sitting on the settee rather than the daybed). As to what a daybed actually might be, I’ll leave that to other researchers.

We then cut back to Chen’s office for another scene, which is mainly of note because it’s missing from my copy of the camera script (i.e. the one that came in the Lost TV Episodes box set). Back in Daxtar’s boudoir-stroke-office and there don’t seem to be any further mysteries; and no thrilling visual effect for when he is shot, alas. Another fairly pointless scene in the Dalek control room follows, and then we’re back in Daxtar’s office to see some feet being dragged into shot (unless that shot was cut – what seems to be the corresponding bit of dialogue (“There. Now”) isn’t on the soundtrack). Then who should walk in but Sara Kingdom (we can get a pretty good idea of what it looked like from the camera position) just in time to shoot Bret (again, no thrilling visual effect, alas). And then, to avoid the need for the set being used in the next episode, she runs out into the corridor to tell Borkar that the fugitives have escaped (as fugitives are wont to do). So when she turns to look at Bret’s unseen corpse, she is looking back into Daxtar’s office (and not just more corridor, as it might appear).

Which, of course, brings us up to the cliffhanger, and ‘Counter Plot’. So, apart from Katarina’s death, the hologram of Bret and a couple of scene-mixes, possibly not the most spectacular episode, and not that many mysteries at all, but still desperately needed to fill a gap!

I really should push the back-catalogue, and I’ve got a few minutes, so let’s do a ‘deleted scenes’ on Jago & Litefoot: The Skeleton Quay. Written in February 2012 and released as part of series 6 in September 2013. What a long time ago. What can I recall?

Well, it turns out I still have the original brief sent by Justin Richards:

6.1 – Ghost Dance

In which Jago and Litefoot are sent on a secret mission to an isolated fishing village…

Writer: Jonathan Morris

Main Cast: Jago, Litefoot

Guest Cast: 2 Characters TBD

Brief Appearances by: Ellie and Sergeant Quick

We start with a recap of the end of Series 5, with the Colonel accosting our heroes on their return from 1968.  He takes them to Palace and briefs them on their mission (as described above).

When Jago and Litefoot arrive at the village they find that secret Royal Navy tests are the least of their worries. 

At the end of the story, Jago and Litefoot have dealt with the unspeakable horrors they have uncovered.  The Colonel appears – briefly – to congratulate them on the ‘cover-up’.  They’ve done well, and he may have another task for them before too long.

But there is a side-effect.  Jago is suffering from nightmares as a result of what he’s been through.  Are they just nightmares, or is it something more sinister..?

Note that during the course of this episode we establish that Jago and Litefoot’s memories of their time in 1968 are fading.  We also need a couple of lines somewhere early on to make it clear that Litefoot’s had the (now completely and irrevocably broken) Time Cabinet put into storage.  (At the end of Series 5 it’s just left on the foggy street!)

(Note that Episode 4.1 – Jago in Love is a seaside ghost story, so avoid overlapping with that. I’ll send you the script for it.)

So you can see how well I followed/expanded upon that.

My original synopsis is pretty much the same as the finished story, except it was set in Cornwall (which is why I gave Camilla the surname Trevelyan). Here’s the beginning, before I hit upon the brilliant title of The Skeleton Quay.

Jago & Litefoot 6:1: The Skeleton Village

We join our heroes as they are being taken to the Palace by a man known as ‘The Colonel’. Waiting in an antechamber, he informs them that their adventures have caught the attention of Her Majesty and she wishes them to investigate the ‘ghost village’ of Shingle Cove in Cornwall. She wants them to make sure that the ‘ghosts’ have nothing to do with a new secret warship that’s being tested nearby.

Jago and Litefoot take a train to Cornwall. Jago dozes while Litefoot chats to a fellow passenger, Miss Camilla Trevelyan (40s). She owns a commercial dockyard in Cornwall inherited from her father. She asks Litefoot about his trip and he tells her about Shingle Cove. Camilla has heard of it; it’s the village that was lost in a storm in 1859 (34 years ago). Litefoot observes that it seems to have come back!

Litefoot bids farewell to Camilla as they arrive at St Austell. Jago awakes, having had a strange dream about travelling to Venus, America and the 1960’s. Litefoot assures him that it wasn’t a dream – but ever since he put the Time Cabinet into storage, their memories of those voyages have been fading.

Litefoot and Jago take a horse-carriage to the village nearest to Shingle Cove, Mevagissey, and book themselves into an inn. Warming their cockles at the fire, their conversation attracts the attention of a local, Isaac Pawley (or Old Isaac). He remembers the storm of 1859; terrible it was. He’s heard the tales of a supernatural fog where the village once stood, and fishermen hearing the screams of those who died. Litefoot engages his services to take them to the remains of Shingle Cove the next day.

It’s a bleak, blustery day as our heroes head to Shingle Cove. When the sea-wall collapsed, the sea destroyed the village and everyone in it, leaving only the shells of the buildings. It even washed away part of the graveyard at the cliff-top.

That’s where Jago becomes separated from Litefoot, falling into a grave. He’s rescued by Camilla, who was out walking to get some fresh air. Jago tells her that he’s here to investigate the lost village.

Litefoot is looking for Jago in the graveyard when an icy mist swirls in. And then, like a ghost, the lost village materializes in the cove below them! Litefoot asks Isaac about it, but Isaac has disappeared.

I also included a link to one of the real-life inspirations for the story, which is, surprisingly, still active all these years later!

http://www.abandonedcommunities.co.uk/hallsands.html

Looking at the first draft, it’s 11617 words, far too long, so I cut about 1000 words of material for the second and final draft. Always a good discipline to cut ten percent. Here’s some of the bigger and more amusing chunks that got trimmed:

LITEFOOT:

Yes, Henry, I know. Quite the honour, what?

JAGO:

I’d say. To be granted a personal audience with her imperial Majesty in Buckingham Palace! Me, a lowly theatrical impresario, albeit one at the height of his profession - and you, a carver of questionable cadavers!

LITEFOOT:

Speak for yourself, Henry! Although I must admit I am somewhat bemused as to what she might want with us.

--

JAGO:

Or maybe she wants to give us a tap on the shoulders with her shiniest paper-knife! Just imagine it! Sir Henry Gordon Jago!

--

LITEFOOT:

And have you heard these... screams?

ISAAC:

No, but I don’t doubt it’s the truth. That place is haunted by all them restless souls, and you’ll find no man in these parts who will tell you otherwise.

 

JAGO:

Yes, well, it’s quite a story, it has to be said.

--

CAMILLA:

There was nothing else I could do.

SAILOR:

And that’s how I found her, floating in the ocean, close to drowning. She’s lucky I was passing, because if I wasn’t she wouldn’t have lasted another minute.

Rewritten to remove the ‘Sailor’ character:

CAMILLA:

What else could I do? It was either that or drown. It was only my good fortune I was picked up by a passing fishing boat.

--

Cut this, as it’s funnier to be implied rather than spelt out:

LITEFOOT:

Don’t look up, for goodness’ sake!

JAGO:

What?

LITEFOOT:

A stray gust of wind might catch her dress and may cause her to knickerbockers to become exposed!

--

LITEFOOT:

We’ll have to swim for it, old chap.

JAGO:

Ah. The thing is, you see, Professor, that I do not possess the necessary... natational know-how.

LITEFOOT:

What?

JAGO:

I can’t actually swim.

LITEFOOT:

Well you’ve chosen a fine time to share that information!

JAGO:

It’s never been pertinent to our predicament before. And I suppose it’s too late to learn, now that it’s nearly up to my waist...

But that’s about it. I attended the recording at the Moat Studios in Ladbroke Grove but remember nothing about it (all the recordings with Christopher Benjamin and Trevor Baxter were a joy). And I’ve not listened to it since it was released, but I think it turned out pretty well, people seemed to like it except for being grumpy about the amnesia storyline – which you’ll see was in the brief, so not my fault!

I’ll do The Monstrous Menagerie next, but don’t hold your breath...

Computer World

Since the sad news of the death of Doctor Who script editor Christopher H Bidmead (the H stands for Hamilton), I’ve noticed a pattern has emerged in the responses. Which I will paraphrase as; “Chris B brought science back to Doctor Who, proper science based in fact, not like silly Douglas Adams who treated science as magic!” And, in fairness, that’s an opinion that Christopher held and propounded whenever given the opportunity. And, in turn, when Douglas Adams was alive, and asked what he thought about his successor, when he wasn’t maintaining a dignified silence he would criticise moments like the Master sending a blackmail message to the entire cosmos beginning “Peoples of the universe, please attend carefully.” For all of Christopher’s claims about rooting the series in science, it's hard to see how that moment fulfils that criteria; it raises all sorts of questions about the speed of light, signal diffusion, and how would anyone who didn’t speak English understand what he was on about. You can argue that that scene is not supposed to make sense, it is simply an illustration of the fact that the Master is fucking nuts, and that kind of works although it isn’t very dramatically satisfying.

But the point I have been preambling towards is this; I don’t actually think Christopher and Douglas were that different at all. I think as writers and script editors and possibly even as people, they were actually very similar. We like to mark the differences in their approach, and, of course, you can always find differences, the more closely you look. But actually, for all of critics’ claims of their difference, and their own claims to be different, in the Venn diagram of their approaches there was a considerable overlap.

After all, Douglas Adams didn’t really treat science as magic in Doctor Who. Yes, he had the Doctor and Romana use their sonic screwdrivers fairly often, but only as a dramatic shortcut to avoid long ‘rewiring from scratch’ business. But the stories he originated – and by his own account, most of the stories by other writers that he script edited were at his suggestion – are all grounded in science, or at least borrow concepts from serious science fiction. The Pirate Planet is almost overloaded with concepts; teleportation, telepathy, telekinesis, time dilation, holograms, cybernetics. And then in season 17 you have stories encompassing ideas about game theory, time travel, black holes being used to create wormholes, hyperspace and artificial intelligence, along with other very Adams themes, like ecology and evolution. I know at this point attentive readers will be going “What about Shada?” and don’t worry, I’ll come to that in a bit.

And Christopher did kind of treat science as a fairly magical thing. In The Leisure Hive tachyons can do whatever the plot requires, because, well, tachyons are where the normal laws of physics break down anyway. Meglos has a talking cactus that can change shape and a magic crystal, although in fairness Christopher wasn’t too keen on that. The big twist of Full Circle is that after some swamp monsters broke into a spaceship they then evolved to fit their environment and became humanoid, which is a great twist but not really how evolution works. State of Decay has vampires, although in fairness Christopher wasn’t too keen on that either. And then you have Warriors’ Gate and The Keeper of Traken, both of which adhere fairly closely to the old idea that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from a fairytale, with mirror worlds, a void universe like a new wave pop video, and all the stuff about the keeper of Traken being able to maintain a web of universal harmony by sitting on a magic throne.

And, of course, there’s Logopolis, with a society of mathematicians using abacuses as part of a living computer to maintain the existence of the universe itself, which is such a Douglas Adams idea, and the ghostly watcher straight out of The Signalman, the fairytale world of Castrovalva, and giant woodlice controlling gravity in Frontios. Is there really much difference to a giant woodlice moving worlds with gravity and a giant amoeba wrapping a neutron star with aluminium? Well, yes, there’s a bit, but not much. The writer of that amoeba story, David Fisher, always maintained that he’d got the idea for that bit after asking some scientists at Cambridge university about the best way to stop a neutron star, and being told “Wrap it in tin foil”. I’ve always wondered if they were taking the piss but he didn’t realise and took them at their word.

Anway, that’s a digression. And I can now anticipate the next thing you’re asking; what about the jokes? Well, yes, there are more jokes in Douglas’s year than Christopher’s, but that’s more a result of the lead cast the change of producer, with John Nathan-Turner stating there will be 'no jokey-jokey’ in the TARDIS', and even more importantly, the influence of Barry Letts as executive producer. You only have to look at Frontios to know that Christopher could write beautifully funny scenes. And, also, actually, there is a fairly huge difference between how jokey the scripts were when they left Douglas’s typewriter to how they appeared on screen, due to the regular cast rewriting them from top to bottom, and the guest cast deciding that now was the ideal opportunity to treat the world to their repertoire of accents. Oh, and also, a mix of old-guard I-really-can’t-be-arsed directors and oh-my-god-this-is-my-first-job-help directors.

But apart from that, I think the differences are superficial. I’m not sure the wizened scientists with long beards in Shada are that different to the wizened scientists with long beards in Logopolis. I think maybe Douglas was better at structure; we know from his notes on The Pirate Planet that he obsessed about story structure to such an extent that I suspect he was already using it as a work-displacement activity, and he kind of had a rule that episode ones should end with the reveal of the monster, and that the antagonists should have clearly-defined objectives and so on, while Christopher’s stories Logopolis and Castrovalva are quite oddly-structured; they both take quite a long time to get to the point where you can say “Ah, the actual story has begun”. And he wasn’t as strong on villain motivation; as mentioned earlier, whatever the Master is trying to achieve in Logopolis makes no sense, he seems to be being evil for the sake of it.

Although that is also a criticism that can be levelled at Skagra in Shada, a villain with no backstory or motivation beyond egomania; almost the ultimate expression of a villain being evil for the sake of it. An idea which Douglas had previously treated as a running gag in Nightmare of Eden, where Fisk keeps papering over logical flaws in his case against the Doctor by saying, “Criminals are like that”.

Which leads me to my second point. I think when Douglas and Christopher were criticising each other’s work, they were actually, unconsciously, revealing their own weaknesses. Douglas criticised Christopher for not giving the villain logical motivation because he felt self-conscious about his own weaknesses in that area, and Christopher criticised Douglas for treating science as magic because he was self-conscious about his own proclivity for doing that.

It’s what politicians always do; attack your opponent by ascribing all your own flaws to them. But a better example that springs to mind is the ‘battle of the songs’ between John Lennon and Paul McCartney in the early 1970s, where Paul would write Too Many People about John being pompous and patronising, and John would write How Do You Sleep about Paul being lightweight and smug, and Paul would then go, “Well, you’re going to look a bit silly now, John, because I’ve already recorded Dear Friend even if I haven’t released it yet” . And yet, as John so cannily observed a few years later, they weren’t really writing songs about either other, but themselves. And maybe one of the reasons why they tried to push in different directions in the 1970s was because they fighting against the truth that actually they weren’t that different as songwriters, and that John could be as sentimental and twee as Paul and Paul could be as hard-rocking and judgemental as John.

So anyway, yes, Christopher H Bidmead, Douglas N Adams, like Lennon and McCartney, not that different after all. Both of them started out wanting to be performers; Christopher going on to become a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company, as well as being in the cast of the radio production of King Lear that ended up in I Am The Walrus, Douglas not really getting further than being an extra in a couple of episodes of Monty Python (and yes, I do mean Monty Python and not Monty Python’s Flying Circus). Even when they became writers, they both still had enough of the performance bug to insist on reading the talking books of their novelisations (and yes, The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is a novelisation, not a novel). And there’s the other enormous similarity, which is it that they were both fascinated with science in general and home computers in particular, as well as gadgetry of all kinds (we know Christopher had three coffee machines; history does not relate how many Douglas had).

And now there’s one more thing they have in common, which is that they are both no longer with us, which is a great shame. RIP Christopher H Bidmead.

 

Next week: why Eric Saward and Andrew Cartmel weren’t that different as script editors either.

Valentine Day

Originally published in Doctor Who Magazine 449, as the magazine was unusually being published in the same week as Valentine’s Day. You may note that as this was written in January 2013, it is before The Enemy of the World was returned to the archive, otherwise I would have definitely included Colin and Mary.

DOCTOR WHO’S GREATEST LOVE STORIES

Doctor Who isn’t just about aliens invading the Earth and travels in time and space. It’s also about love stories. Love stories about the Doctor’s companions, about the Doctor himself and various women, and about the people he meets. Love stories that end in bliss and love stories that end in tragedy. Stories about understated love, about unrequited love, about unlikely love,  and about uncontrollable love. In Doctor Who, love actually is all around...

 

1 Rory Williams and Amy Pond (The Eleventh Hour (2010) – The Angels Take Manhattan (2012))

Magic moment: “Don't you dare talk to me about waiting outside a box, because that is nothing, Rory, nothing, compared to giving you up.”

For the last three years, Doctor Who has been love story of Amy and Rory. More than anything else, it’s been about an extremely mixed-up, prickly, passionate girl and her long-suffering, doting fiancé. And their love has conquered anything the universe can throw at them, and I mean anything. Death? Rory has not only survived drowning and being dissolved by an Eknodine, he has survived being shot by a Silurian and erased from existence. He’s been resurrected as a Nestene duplicate of himself and waited two thousand years outside the Pandorica for Amy to recover. Why did Amy have to go into the Pandorica? Because the Nestene duplicate of Rory had killed her, but don’t worry, she survived that too. That’s not the only time she’s died either, as she killed herself in the Dream Lords’ reality after Rory was dissolved. Given the choice, Amy would rather not live in a world without Rory. Rory’s choice was no less difficult; after Amy waited thirty-six years for Rory to rescue her on Apalapucia, Rory had to decide between saving the Amy who had waited or to change history so that the Amy who had waited never came into existence. And that’s not the only adversity they’ve had to overcome. They’ve had to overcome Amy’s hot-blooded attraction to the raggedy Doctor, the unwilling extra corner to their love triangle. They’ve had to spend three months apart, on the run from the Silence in the USA. They’ve had to deal with the unbelievable trauma of having their baby stolen from them by Madame Kovarian (a baby they didn’t even know existed until it was due to be born). And they’ve had to overcome the greatest obstacle of all, their own stupidity, as they nearly get divorced due to each of them feeling they had let the other down in Asylum Of The Daleks. Though an inability to communicate has been a constant fixture of their relationship, ever since it began with Amy assuming Rory was gay and Rory being terrified of Amy finding out that he fancied her. But somehow they’ve managed to make their dysfunctional dynamic work, partly due to Rory’s patient, submissive nature (he’s spent his whole life trying to be Mr Pond) but mainly because no matter how much they get their wires crossed, and no matter how much pain they face, they love each other more than they can express. So when Rory decides to kill himself to create a paradox and prevent himself from becoming a Weeping Angel food source, Amy decides she will go with him. And if anything sums up their relationship that’s it; Amy and Rory, locked in a loving embrace, plunging to their death. But even that wasn’t the end; when a Weeping Angel sends Rory back to the 1930s, Amy makes her last choice, to follow Rory and make sure that, no matter what, they will spend the rest of their lives together.

Love theme: Complicated

 

2 John Smith and Joan Redfern (Human Nature/The Family Of Blood (2007))

Magic moment: “How can you think that I'm not real? When I kissed you, was that a lie?”

It’s taken two months, but finally the time has come for Joan Redfern to make her move. In 1914 it’s not easy for a widow to ask out an eligible bachelor, and for all her hints John Smith is remarkably slow on the uptake. He doesn’t pick up on her hints about them making a good team, or being invited to the village dance. He seems oblivious to her mentioning that nurses, like herself, make such good wives. But eventually the penny drops, and John Smith invites her and kisses her after adding a sketch of her to his Journal Of Impossible Things. Because, for some reason, he keeps having these dreams about another life, about a mysterious Doctor. At first Joan presumes it’s wish-fulfilment, that this heroic Doctor with an eye for the pretty girls is the man John would like to be. But after the village dance, she begins to suspect that it is more than that, and even as she falls in love with John Smith she learns he is not real, he is the creation of the mysterious Doctor, and that she must lose him. It’s beautifully written and played, as Joan starts to realise that Martha has been telling the truth, and that the fob watch and the magical blue box are not just dreams written down in a journal but are real. She becomes the one who has to convince John Smith; David Tennant is never better than in the scene where Joan points out that John’s history doesn’t make sense and that his whole life has been a lie. That the only real thing in his life is his love for Joan and he can’t even have that; to save the world he has to become a man who is lonely, who wouldn’t even consider the possibility of falling in love, a man who will never find happiness with Joan. A man who has caused innocent people to die by attracting the Family of Blood to Earth. And for all the Doctor’s protests that John Smith lives on within him, when John Smith becomes the Doctor the man that Joan loves is gone. Because John Smith is the best that the Doctor is capable of, without the darkness – a Doctor-lite. Just as Joan’s heart is broken at the loss of John Smith, and John Smith’s heart is broken at the thought of losing her, one of the Doctor’s hearts is broken because the love that John felt for Joan still burns inside him, but she cannot love him back. That’s why he goes to see her great granddaughter before he regenerates in The End Of Time to see if she found happiness. It’s not for himself but for whichever of his hearts that was the heart of John Smith.

Love theme: Human

 

3 Professor Clifford Jones and Jo Grant (The Green Death (1973))

Magic moment: “Look, will you excuse me? I do think I'm going to be wanted on the telephone.”

The Green Death is an astonishing thoughtful of work, not least the way it writes out Jo Grant. Not for her the hasty goodbye added to the script as an afterthought. She gets a love story, all about how her new love, Cliff Jones, will be taking the Doctor’s place in her life. Even before she’s met him he already reminds her of a younger Doctor; the Doctor, he recognises this as the first sign that Jo will soon be leaving him, that she has started to think of him as old. Then, when she first meets Cliff, their meeting is a conscious echo of Jo’s first meeting with the Doctor, interrupting a delicate science experiment in a clumsy rush of scatterbrained enthusiasm. This also sets up the later moment where Jo’s clumsiness provides the answer to the green death infection. There are other echoes too; when Cliff becomes infected, Jo spends hours at his bedside, just as she has spent so many honours nursing the Doctor during one of his regular comas. Cliff Jones has his own ‘moment of charm’ comforting Jo after the news of Bert’s death, and it’s Cliff, rather than the Doctor, who rescues Jo when she wanders into trouble. There’s even a deliberate call-back to her first story when Jo gets her uncle at the United Nations to fund Cliff Jones’ work. It’s revealing that the thought of joining Cliff’s alternative community excites Jo far more than the thought of travelling to Metebelis Three with the Doctor. She turns him down even when he offers her all of time and space.  She still wants the thrill of adventure, but adventure with a purpose, to save with world by travelling up the amazon to find a protein-rich toadstool. It’s clear that Cliff is perfect for Jo in a way that King Peladon, Mike Yates and Latep never could be (and not just because of the obvious chemistry between the actors Katy Manning and Stewart Bevan). But what makes this love story truly special is what it tells us about the Doctor, about the sadness and loneliness of his life as his companions grow away from him. There’s a touch of jealousy about the way he tries to sabotage Cliff and Jo’s romance by steering Cliff away from Jo just as they were about to kiss; but later, when Cliff proposes, he tactfully makes himself scarce.  And while Cliff and Jo head off to happier times, the Doctor drives off into the sunset, alone.

Love theme: The Scientist

 

4 Doctor and Madame Du Pompadour (The Girl In The Fireplace (2006))

Magic moment: “I’m the Doctor. And I just snogged Madame de Pompadour!”

Before River Song there was Reinette, the first story of a romance conducted by skipping through the pages of history, and the first out-and-out Doctor Who love story. Yes, it may have clockwork robots and spaceships but they’re just science-fiction trappings to reassure little boys that they’re not watching a programme made for girls. You can’t get more romantic than The Girl In The Fireplace. For the first time, we’re shown the Doctor falling in love (unless you count Cameca, see later); after decades of the Doctor being oddly asexual, he is now capable of falling in love and of physical attraction. You only have to look at his face when he notices how Reinette has grown. And whereas the Doctor’s kiss with Grace was entirely innocent, with Reinette he revels in the fact that she’s grabbed him and kissed him. He’s giddy with excitement. And why wouldn’t he be, when Reinette is more than a match for him? She’s not just beautiful and accomplished, she is quick to understand that the Doctor is stepping through chapters of the book of her life. She isn’t thrown by the clockwork robots or the Doctor’s ageless appearance, and when the Doctor looks into her mind, she looks into his mind just as easily and finds out more about him than he does about her. It’s easy to believe that the Doctor would be happy ‘stuck on the slow path’ with her and the thought of her joining him on his travels is such a gorgeous prospect you can’t help wishing that it will work out, even if you’ve seen the episode half a dozen times. But of course it can’t, and just as we’ve seen a Doctor capable of passion, we now see that he is also capable of having his hearts broken, as the accelerated passage of time that brought him and Reinette together also takes her away from him. Bearing in mind what came later, though, the surprise with this love story is actually how straightforward it is; there may be a clear influence of The Time Traveler’s Wife with the Doctor meeting Reinette as her imaginary childhood friend, but all their encounters are in strict chronological order. A larger influence, I suspect, may have been Russell T Davies’ Casanova; in particular its conclusion, where Casanova fails to be reunited with his love because he leaves it too late. Who, watching that, wouldn’t wish that Casanova could pop back six months in a time machine?

Love theme: Time After Time

 

5 Doctor and Idris (The Doctor’s Wife (2011))

Magic moment: “I just wanted to say hello. Hello, Doctor. It's so very, very nice to meet you.”

The love story of the Doctor and Idris is, of course, really the love story of the Doctor and his TARDIS, the rackety old type-forty he stole from Gallifrey all those years ago. But after all those years of the Doctor referring to it as an ‘old girl’ and references to the TARDIS being alive – 1972’s The Time Monster introduces the idea of it being telepathic, while the 1996 TV movie has the TARDIS being a ‘sentimental old thing’ by bringing Grace and Change Lee back to life – after all those years, The Doctor’s Wife is the pay-off. For the first time, the TARDIS can speak, its matrix – or ‘soul’ – having been stuck in the body of Idris, a human living in a junkyard outside of time and space. Now at last it can say all the things it’s ever wanted to say. We learn that the TARDIS doesn’t perceive time linearly, with past, present and future all mixed up, and that it can archive control rooms that haven’t been created yet. We learn that the first thing the Doctor ever said to the TARDIS was that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever known, and that when he’s on his own, he calls her ‘sexy’. We learn that, as far as the TARDIS is concerned, she stole the Doctor, deliberately leaving her door unlocked so that he would steal her to leave Gallifrey; we learn that she finds it hard to tell apart the various ‘strays’ the Doctor travels with; we learn that she has been guiding the Doctor’s seemingly haphazard travels for all these years. And we learn that the TARDIS regards the Doctor as her ‘beautiful idiot’ because he’s spent years opening the TARDIS door the wrong way. While it places the whole history of Doctor Who in a new context, it doesn’t undermine it. In fact, it’s so true to the original, magical ethos of the show’s earliest years that it feels like it was planned all long. But the tragedy of this relationship is how-short lived it is, as holding the TARDIS matrix causes Idris’ body to shut down, and we discover that even as she was delighting in being alive, she knew she was about to die. Or at least, to return to being the Doctor’s TARDIS, never able to speak to him again. It’s not just a Doctor Who love story, it’s a love story about Doctor Who, about the Doctor and his TARDIS and the whole romance of his travels in time and space.

Love theme: You’re Beautiful

 

6 Pete Tyler and Jackie Tyler (Father’s Day (2005) – Journey’s End (2008))

Magic moment: “But you’re dead. You died twenty years ago, Pete.”

Looking at Pete and Jackie as a couple in 1987, you wouldn’t think theirs was a great love story. In fact, looking at the way they are together, you would be surprised if they lasted more than a year. Pete can’t do right for doing wrong, he’s a failure as a businessmen and Jackie is convinced he’s being unfaithful. And when he is killed in a road accident (averting a wound in time and saving the world in the process) it looks like that’s the end. It would take a universe-shattering event to bring them back together and fortunately that’s exactly what happens, twenty years later. On a parallel Earth Pete Tyler has become a success thanks to Vitex soft drinks. He’s also working as an informer for the Preachers, trying to prevent the rise of the Cybermen. In this universe, he’s married to Jackie Tyler, who wealth has made vain and avaricious – ‘ where’s my Zeppelin?’ Again, you’d be surprised if they lasted, and sadly they don’t, as Jackie is transformed into a Cyberman .Meanwhile the Jackie from ‘our’ universe has moved on with her life. She remembers her Pete with more fondness than she showed him at the time, but has started seeing other men - notably Howard, Rodrigo and Billy Croot. So you can imagine her surprise when she’s being attacked by two Cybermen in Torchwood HQ and they collapse to the ground having been shot by her dead husband. Who doesn’t look a day older (though Jackie seems to think he does). It’s one of the greatest moments of Doctor Who, overshadowed by Rose’s departure, but in its way, utterly touching and beautiful. Pete and Tyler reunited – in a sense – with the person they thought was dead, but alive, older, and shaped by events to be perfect for each other. As Pete points out, he isn’t her Pete and she isn’t his Jackie, but in the end it doesn’t matter. This Pete and this Jackie have both seen each other die, and now they’ve been given a second chance. It’s a combination of the domestic and the absurdly space-operatic, and it’s uniquely, heartrendingly Doctor Who.

Love theme: Un-break My Heart

7 David Campbell and Susan Foreman (The Dalek Invasion Of Earth (1964))

Magic moment: “Well, I’m giving you that, Susan. I’m giving you a place, a time, an identity.”

The saying goes that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. The same, it seems, holds true for female Gallifreyans, because food is the key to David’s seduction of Susan Foreman. After all, what is the first they say to each other? He asks her what can she do, and she replies ‘I can eat’. So what does David do? He goes out and brings her apples which, in Dalek-occupied London, is harder than it sounds. Having made the first move, Susan responds by inviting David to join her and the Doctor in the TARDIS; he refuses, saying that running away isn’t the answer and Susan, who has been running away all her life, begins to realise that there is an alternative. Later, he invites Susan to help rebuild the Earth and she answers ‘yes’ almost without thinking about it. But the key moment comes on their journey to Bedfordshire, when David brings Susan more food. This time it’s a fresh fish, which he dangles on her neck after creeping up on her. And despite the fact that this is clearly not the time for practical jokes, what with them being in a wood hiding from the Daleks, Susan finds it funny and a passionate clinch ensues. That’s love for you, as the Doctor is quick to notice (though he’d already had his suspicions that something was cooking when Susan disagreed with him when he suggested they try to leave). And it’s the Doctor who makes Susan’s decision for her, in the end. He’s inside the TARDIS listening and hears David tell Susan that he loves her and Susan reply that she loves him. As soon as she says that, he closes the TARDIS doors on her so she no longer has to choose between him and David. The Doctor is heartbroken but for Susan this is just the beginning of a new life, a life of David bringing her fresh farm produce. It’s Doctor Who’s first major farewell, and because it’s given time to build, and time to play out, it feels emotionally true; just as with Cliff Jones and Jo, the only thing that could take the Doctor’s child away from him is a younger Doctor.

Love theme: Suzy-Hang-Around

 

8 The Doctor and River Song (A Good Man Goes To War (2011) – Forest Of The Dead (2008))

Magic moment: “You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run!”

The Doctor and River’s love story had ended before it began. Literally. The first we – and the Doctor – knew of their relationship was when they met at the Library and River died preventing the auto-destruct. But she mentioned the last time she’d met him was at the Singing Towers of Darillium. Before that, she was pardoned of killing the Doctor and met him and the Weeping Angels in New York. Before that was the crash of the Byzantium. Before that, the Pandorica opened. Before that, River escaped the Stormcage Facility to visit the Doctor in Utah. Before that, she visited Demon’s Run. Before that, the Doctor took her to see Stevie Wonder at a frost fair. Before that, she fought with Sontarans at Calderon Beta. Before that, the Doctor took her to Calderon Beta for the first time. Before that, she was imprisoned in the Stormcage for apparently killing the Doctor. Before that, she married him. Before that, she was recruited by Madame Kovarian. Before that, she enrolled at Luna University. Before that, she gave up her regenerations to save the Doctor. Before that, she attempted to kill the Doctor with the poison of the Judas Tree. Before that, she regenerated, having been shot by Hitler. Before that, she met the Doctor for the first time and told him to take her to kill Hitler. Before that she grew up with Amy and Rory as their friend Melody. Before that, she regenerated as a young girl in New York. Before that, the Silence placed her in an orphanage in Florida in an Apollo spacesuit. Before that, she was kidnapped by Madame Kovarian before that she was born at Demon’s Run, and before that she was conceived in the TARDIS by her parents, Amy and Rory. I hope that makes everything clear. To put it simply: the Doctor and River’s love song has a melody that hits all the right notes... but not necessarily in the right order.

Love theme: If I Could Turn Back Time

 

9 The Doctor and Rose (Rose (2005) – Journey’s End (2008))

Magic moment: “And I suppose... if it’s one last chance to say it... Rose Tyler...”

When Doctor Who returned in 2005, one major difference was that rather than consigning love stories to romantic sub-plots, it could make the whole series into a love story. And that’s what it was for two years, the story of Rose falling for the Doctor (and choosing him over her boyfriend Mickey) and the Doctor falling for Rose. Although there are moments between Rose and the ninth Doctor – Rose flirtatiously asking whether he ‘dances’, for instance – it’s not until he regenerates that things get serious. Rose and the Doctor spend whole stories delighting in each other’s company, almost to the point that they seem complacent and smug, but that’s the whole point. Pride comes before a fall. In School Reunion Sarah warns Rose that one day the Doctor will break her heart and leave her, but Rose refuses to believe it. By The Impossible Planet she’s so in love with the Doctor she jokes (in a way that isn’t joking at all) about them settling down together. And by Fear Her she’s convinced that nothing will ever break them up – though the Doctor doesn’t share her conviction. It’s all part of the build up to the events of Doomsday, where Rose has to choose between her family and the Doctor. She chooses the Doctor – but when she finds herself falling into the Void, the choice is made for her by her father, and she ends up trapped in another universe, leading to the most heartbreaking farewell scene of them all. Of course, it wasn’t quite the end, and Rose would return and eventually get her own (half-human) Doctor, but that doesn’t detract from the power of the moment where Rose tells the hologram of the Doctor that she loves him, and he begins to say it back.

Love theme: Never Tear Us Apart

10 King Yrcanos and Peri (The Trial Of A Time Lord (1986))

Magic moment: “What is that? ‘Love’?”

Considering how loud and unreserved King Yrcanos is, his courtship with Peri is remarkably subtle. The first hints come when they rest in the tunnels of Thoros Beta to eat some flay-fish; when Peri comforts Yrcanos’ equerry Dorf, it sends the king into a brief jealous rage. It’s clear that there is something going on; Peri’s first instinct with Yrcanos is to take the mickey as she finds him fairly ridiculous, patronising him with ‘There’s a good warlord’, while Yrcanos immediately casts Peri in the role of a warrior queen. But it’s only when they are imprisoned together that romance starts to blossom, as Peri confides in Yrcanos that she’s missing being with people she loves, prompting Yrcanos to wax lyrical about the afterlife. Something has happened, something that means that when they are parted, Yrcanos’ farewell of ‘Die well, my lady’ is more heartfelt, and that when he gets the chance, Yrcanos is determined to rescue his ‘Bride to be’ – only to face the horror and heartbreak of finding that he is too late, her body now being occupied by Kiv. It’s a fate that spurs Yrcanos into a suicidal rage; except, of course, we are later told that this never actually took place, and that Peri survived and became Yrcanos’ warrior queen. The irony being that after travelling with the most explosive and bombastic of Doctors, she should end up marrying someone even more rambunctious and outrageous. Of one thing we can be sure; their life together isn’t going to be quiet.

Love theme: Just Can’t Get Enough

 

11 Kazran Sardick and Abigail Pettigrew (A Christmas Carol (2010))

Magic moment: “We've had so many Christmas Eves, Kazran. I think it's time for Christmas Day.”

Every Doctor Who love story to sparkle out of Steven Moffat’s keyboard has a four-dimensional twist, and in this case, it’s that Kazran and Abigail fall in love over the course of six Christmas Eves, but while this is six years as far as Kazran is concerned, it’s seven continuous days as far as Abigail is concerned, as after each one she is returned to cryogenic storage. It’s also seven continuous days as far as the Doctor is concerned, in his role as time-travelling matchmaker. The Doctor is determined to give Kazran a chance to change. He has never known love, but thanks to the Doctor, has his past re-written to include a whirlwind romance with Abigail, flying across the rooftops in a shark-drawn sleigh, visiting the Great Wall of China, Egypt, Paris, New York, Frank Sinatra’s hunting lodge, as well as spending a Christmas Eve with Abigail’s family. But Abigail is terminally ill and soon all but one of Abigail’s remaining days have been used up. Kazran can’t face reviving her; thanks to the Doctor, he is no longer heartless but heartbroken. The Doctor finally pulls Kazran out of the dark by showing his young self what the future holds, and Kazran is changed enough to agree to awaken Abigail. The last we see of them, they are enjoying a sleigh-ride together on what we know will be the last day of her life.

Love theme: Lonely This Christmas

 

12 The Doctor and Doctor Martha Jones (Smith & Jones – Last Of The Time Lords (2007))

Magic moment: “You had to, didn't you? Had to go and fall in love with a human. And it wasn't me.”

Some of the greatest love stories are about unrequited love; after all, it’s relatively easy to love someone who loves you back, but to love someone who doesn’t register the way you feel about them, someone who you can never tell how you feel out of fear of losing them, that takes real love. It’s painful, and it’s destructive, and it’s nearly as heartbreaking to watch. Why couldn’t the Doctor return Martha’s affections? Why did he have to raise her hopes by kissing her in Smith & Jones and suggesting they share a bed in The Shakespeare Code? She may pretend not to be interested, but it’s obvious from the way she looks at him, the way she reacts whenever he brings up Rose. Worst of all, when he becomes Doctor John Smith in Human Nature, he still doesn’t look twice at her. This is the final straw for Martha; in The Last Of The Time Lords, even as she is making the whole world fall in love with the idea of the Doctor, she can, at last, move on and find someone else; first there’s the Tom Milligan from the year that never was, then the Tom Milligan from the year that actually was, and then Mickey Smith. Martha Jones – not prepared to be second best.

Love theme: I Know Him So Well

13 The Doctor and Doctor Grace Holloway (The Doctor Who TV movie (1996))

Magic moment: “Good! Now do that again!”

Before the Doctor staggered into her life, Grace Holloway was in a bad way. Her boyfriend, Brian, had finally left her for good (after repeated threats) because she had to abandon an opera date. But then the Doctor appeared, full of the joys of life and a broken length of surgical probe. After a walk in the park and a few words about warm Gallifreyan nights, they are sharing their first kiss. For the Doctor, it’s an innocent expression of delight at remembering who he is and some well-fitting shoes, but for Grace, it’s something far more sensual. The Doctor literally sweeps her off her feet and onto a motorbike in a race against time (it’s something to do with an atomic clock). When the Earth has been saved, and fireworks are exploding to celebrate the millennium, the Doctor asks Grace to join him on his travels. Grace answers by asking him to stay with her, even though she knows that he never would, so their next kiss is a kiss goodbye. But the Doctor has given Grace back her dreams.

Love theme: Two Hearts

 

14 Billy and Delta (Delta And The Bannermen (1987))

Magic moment: “I can't condone this foolishness, but then, love has never been known for its rationality.”

There is no greater testament to the power of love than that demonstrated by Billy the motor mechanic. Some men might think twice when the girl they’ve been serenading turns out to be an alien queen. Some men might have reservations when she turns out to be a single mother. Some men might consider being the last of her species, pursued across the galaxy by the genocidal Bannermen was a bit too much baggage. But not our Billy. When he sat down to dinner with Delta at the Shangri-La, he knew she was the one. Soon he was serenading her with Why Do Fools Fall In Love and taking her and her pea-green progeny on a tour of local beauty spots. This is more than enough to win Delta over; it’s not every day someone subjects themselves to alien infant formula in the hope that they will mutate into the same species as you at the risk of their own life. Fortunately in Billy’s case it seems to work out, and they depart together to rebuild the race (which means plenty of you-know-what). But spare a thought for poor Rachel Defwydd; it can’t do much for your self-esteem when the boy you love chooses an extra-terrestrial over you.

Love theme: Love Changes Everything

15 Craig Owens and Sophie (The Lodger (2010))

Magic moment: “I love you, too, Craig, you idiot!”

Craig and Sophie love each other. That much is obvious to everyone. Apart, that is, to Craig and Sophie. They’re flatmates, they enjoy each other’s company, and evenings of pizza-booze-telly, but neither of them can quite pluck up the courage to make the first move. They don’t want to risk their friendship, or risk rejection because they both think the other wouldn’t be interested. So instead they potter along, joking about ‘settling’ for each other. Until the Doctor turns up and sticks a sonic screwdriver into the works. Only the Doctor – and a homicidal spaceship parked upstairs – can stir Craig to action. Seeing Sophie admiring the near-naked Doctor and giving him air-kisses rouses his  jealousy. The possibility of Sophie leaving to look after monkeys puts his fear of losing her into stark relief. But it takes the threat of the homicidal spaceship killing Sophie and the human race to finally make Craig declare his love, to Sophie, to her face, and seal the deal with a kiss. The world is saved, his house loses an upper storey, and all because a boy and a girl realised what everyone else already knew.

Love theme: Then I Kissed Her

 

16 The Doctor and Cameca (The Aztecs (1964))

Magic moment: “Oh, sweet-favoured man, you have declared your love for me, and I acknowledge and accept your gentle proposal.”

Consigned to the Garden of Peace, a sort of Aztec retirement home, the Doctor’s interest in Cameca is initially entirely prosaic. He wants to know about the construction of the temple, in the hope of discovering another way in, and Cameca may be able to provide a meeting between the Doctor and the son of the temple’s designer. But the Doctor’s charm offensive backfires when Cameca mistakes his intentions as romantic, particularly when he offers to make her a cup of cocoa as a token of his esteem. Having become accidentally betrothed, the Doctor continues to use Cameca to help him gain access to the temple and such is her love for him she assists, even though she knows that by doing so she will lose him (she displays remarkable prescience in deducing this from the sight of the Doctor building a wheel). But the Doctor isn’t pretending to be fond of Cameca out of self-interest; he seems to be genuinely tempted at the thought of them retiring to tend a garden together, and in the final episode, rather than discarding her token of love for him, he recovers it from the tomb and takes it with him.

Love theme: It’s Never Too Late To Fall In Love

 

17 Donna Noble and Lee McAvoy (Forest Of The Dead (2008))

Magic moment: “I made up the perfect man. Gorgeous, adores me, and hardly able to speak a word.”

Donna Noble hasn’t been lucky in love. Her fiancée, Lance, was only interested in dosing her coffee with Huon particles for the Racnoss; he only agreed to marry her to prevent her running off, despite finding her conversation ‘a never ending fountain of fat, stupid trivia’. As for his replacement Shaun, well, if Wilfred Mott is to believed, Donna is ‘making do’, though a winning lottery ticket may help things along. No, the true love of Donna’s life was Lee McAvoy, an easy-going man with a stammer she met within the computerised reality of the Library. Within minutes they were married and had two children. It was all too good to be true, and certainly too good to last. When Donna returned to reality she could only conclude that she had imagined him. The truth, though, was that Lee was real, and really did adore Donna, but just as he was struggling to call out her name and tell her he existed, he was cruelly teleported away. If only he’d just shouted, ‘Oi! You!’

Love theme: Don’t Stop Believin’

 

18 Bellboy and Flowerchild (The Greatest Show In The Galaxy (1988))

Magic moment: “Come on! Deal with me as you dealt with Flowerchild!”

At the Psychic Circus, Bellboy was responsible for the robot clowns and Flowerchild made the kites. They were happy, before the circus came to the planet Segonax. Then everything changed, and the robot clowns fell under the spell of the circus’ new owners, and the kites were used to prevent any escape. As we join the story, Bellboy and Flowerchild are making  a final desperate bid for freedom; but they become separated, and Flowerchild is killed by one of Bellboy’s robots. Tortured and on the brink of insanity, he is only kept alive so that he can repair the robots, and in the end the only thing left for him to do is to instruct them to end his pain. Doctor Who’s darkest and most harrowing love story.

Love theme: I Am Not A Robot

 

19 Elton Pope and Ursula Blake (Love & Monsters (2006))

Magic moment: “Don’t touch me! Oh, Elton, I’m so sorry. You can’t touch me...”

Love stories don’t come much stranger than that of Elton and Ursula. Brought together by a shared fascination for the Doctor (having got in touch over the internet) they immediately hit it off, but would they ever have declared their love for each other if it hadn’t been for the malign influence of Victor Kennedy? If Elton hadn’t found himself in the firing line of Jackie Tyler’s seduction technique, would he have realised that Ursula was the girl he really wanted to be with? And if Victor hadn’t threatened Elton, would Ursula ever have revealed her love for him? As I so often the case, just when they were about to get it together and go for a chinese at the Golden Locust, tragedy struck, Ursula being maliciously abzorbed (along with another couple-who-never-made-it, Mr Skinner and Bridget). For a moment, it looked like Elton had lost Ursula, as her face dissolved into a paving slab, but the Doctor came to the rescue, allowing them to cement their relationship forever.

Love theme: Turn To Stone

 

20 Tremas and Kassia (The Keeper Of Traken (1981))

Magic moment: “If all the stars were silver, and the sky a giant purse in my fist, I couldn't be happier than I am tonight.”

Poor Kassia. The day she and her beloved Tremas get married, the Keeper of Traken turns up to not only steal their thunder but to announce that Tremas will soon be his replacement, condemned to sit in an art nouveau throne controlling the Union’s power source for the rest of his life. Faced with such a prospect, the thought of their life together being cruelly taken away, Kassia can be forgiven for allying herself with the Melkur when it offers to save her husband. She will doing anything to save him – even covering up the Melkur’s murders – unaware of the final twist of cruelty that it has planned for her. She will be able to save Tremas, yes – but only by taking his place as Keeper. They will never be together, and another, even more terrible fate awaits Tremas (almost as though the forces of destiny had a penchant for prophetic anagrams...)

Love theme: (Everything I Do) I Do It For You

21 Stott and Della

Magic moment: “I knew it was him looking at me. In the Eden picture, someone staring out.”

The story of Stott and Della has all makings of a great love story – except it’s missing one crucial thing. At the outset of the story Della believes that the love of her life, Stott, is dead, having been mortally mauled by a Mandrel. Even though she’s caught glimpses of him in the Eden projection, she’s convinced herself she is seeing things, such is her state of denial. It’s been even harder for Stott, looking out at Della; he’s even considered committing suicide. And yet, with all this build-up, we never get to see the moment that Stott and Della are re-united. Surely we could have had a scene of Della waking up in the medical bay with Stott at her bedside, offering her a glass of lucozade? I’m sure, given the circumstances, they would have embraced with a passionate ferocity that would have put even the Mandrels to shame.

Love theme: Back For Good

 

22 Larry Nightingale and Sally Sparrow (Blink (2007))

Magic moment: “Pants?”

There is absolutely no wish-fulfilment element to the relationship between Larry and Sally. He’s a bit of a geek, an unshaven Shaggy from Scooby Doo-type who works in a DVD shop, and who spends his spare time on internet forums. And she is Sally Sparrow, the most gorgeous girl in the universe, self-assured, smart and so utterly un-geeky she only owns seventeen DVDs. But, from the very first moment that Larry walks into his kitchen naked, Sally has a sneaking affection for him. That doesn’t stop her from flirting with Billy Shipton (how many broken hearts has this girl left in her wake?) and it takes a whole year, and a brief meeting with the Doctor to provide a sense of closure, before she is willing to take Larry in hand. But these two nominal lovebirds are clearly meant for each other, even if their surnames do sound like an ITV drama series.

Love theme: Angels

 

23 Greg Sutton and Petra Williams (Inferno (1970))

 Magic moment: “Well, if you really want to show your gratitude, there are one or two things.”

You can’t fight destiny. That’s the story of Greg and Petra, the love sub-plot of Doctor Who’s precursor of Sliding Doors. On ‘our’ Earth, or on a version of Earth where Britain is ruled by a fascist organisation of monocular monomaniacs, the story is the same; Greg is brought to the Inferno Project as an expert on drilling, and slowly works his way through Petra’s hard, frosty crust. And when all hope is lost, they can’t help reaching out to each other. But while, in the parallel Earth, Greg and Petra are doomed to be engulfed by a tide of lava, on ‘our’ Earth their prospects are a little more propitious. In fact, they’ll probably get on like a house on fire.

Love theme: Burning Love

 

24 Captain Jack Harkness and Algy, Alonso Frame, Angelo Colasanto, Estelle Cole, his executioners, Ianto Jones, the real Captain Jack Harkness, John Hart, Lucia Moretti, Christopher Isherwood and Marcel Proust (various).

Magic moment: “Don’t forget me.”

Captain Jack has never suffered a shortage of romance in his life. His good looks, charm and seemingly bottomless amorous appetite means that it might be quicker to list all the people in Doctor Who  and Torchwood that Captain Jack hasn’t had an affair with. Because, for all we know, he may have had a one night stand with the Servo Robot from The Wheel In Space. But the greatest love of Captain Jack’s life has to be Ianto Jones, the coffee-brewing, waistcoat-wearing, Cyberwoman-smuggling Torchwood agent who tragically breathed his last in Jack’s arms, infected with an alien virus. But his memory – and, inexplicably, his Cardiff shrine – live on.

Love theme: Anything Goes

 

25 Seth and Teka (The Horns Of Nimon (1979))

Magic moment: “The Nimons are finished. Seth defeated them. I knew he would!”

Teka’s faith in Seth never wavered. Despite the fact that they had been sent to Skonnos as a sacrificial tribute, she was convinced that Seth would find some way of defeating the Nimon (and couldn’t stop bringing it up in conversation, much to his embarrassment). Even when Teka was consigned to the Nimon larder she never lost faith. And so, when Seth came to her rescue, Teka concluded that he had been the person responsible for defeating the Nimon. Never mind the Doctor and Romana; as far as Teka was concerned Seth was the hero of the hour, and she was going to make damn sure everybody heard about it.

Love theme: Holding Out For A Hero

 

26 Za and Hur (100,000 BC (1963))

Magic moment: “Now you are Leader. You are as strong as the beasts.”

Back in the stone age, there was little opportunity for romance. The rule of the tribe encountered by the Doctor in his first adventure was simple; whichever man can make fire will become the leader and be given Horg’s daughter Hur as his ‘wife’. Hur wants this to be Za but Za doesn’t have the secret of fire, while Kal, an interloper in the tribe, courts popularity by bringing in fresh meat. But Hur remains true to Za and, with a little help from the Doctor, has Kal banished.

Love theme: Stand By Your man.

 

27 Davitch Pavale and Female Programmer (Bad Wolf/The Parting Of The Ways (2005))

Magic moment: “Am I supposed to say, when this is all over, and if we’re still alive, maybe we could go for a drink?”

Sometimes the timing is never right. Davitch has been working at the Game Station for years. He only joined the programme so he could be near to his beloved. But despite repeated invitations to spend their spare time together she’s always turned him down. Only when the Game Station is under imminent attack from a Dalek fleet does she start to warm towards him, and by then, of course, it is far too late. 

Love theme:  Never Let Her Slip Away

 

28 Lieutenant John Andrews and Claire Daly (Carnival Of Monsters (1973))

Magic moment: “John and I thought we'd take a turn around the deck.”

When the SS Bernice was captured by the Miniscope, Lieutenant Andrews and Claire Daly found themselves trapped in a nautical Groundhog Day, doomed to forever turn down the offer of a cocktail from Major Daly to instead walk around the decks, enjoying the glorious evening whilst discussing the merits of musicals (she’s a big fan of Fred Astaire and Chu Chin Chow, he thinks they’re a load of nonsense). Returned to Earth, they were freed from the time-loop – and we never found out whether they parted or coupled when they finally reached Bombay.

Love theme: You Spin Me Right Round (Like A Record)

29 Altos and Sabetha (The Keys Of Marinus (1964))

Magic moment: “The man who loves me cannot betray me.”

Sent by Arbitan to recover the keys to the conscience machine, both Altos and Sabetha became ensnared in the Morpho brains’ hallucinogenic velvet web. Once freed, they joined the Doctor and his companions in their odyssey to recover the keys, only to be captured by Yartek, the leader of the alien Voord. Yartek somehow manages to detect that Altos is in love with Sabetha (despite Altos not having shown the slightest interest in her previously); he must have an antennae for these things.

Love theme: You Never Can Tell

 

30 Prince Reynart and Princess Strella (The Androids Of Tara (1978)

Magic moment: “If only she were real, I'd marry her.”

In The Androids Of Tara, everyone is in love with someone. Reynart’s in love with Strella, Strella’s in love with Reynart, Mademe Lamia’s in love with Count Grendel and Count Grendel is in love with Count Grendel. Admittedly the real Reynart and Strella never meet until the end of the story, but with so many doubles of Strella available, it’s a sign of his true love that he still wants the one who does nothing but sit around sewing tapestries all day.

Love theme: You’re The One That I Want

 

31 Sir Robert Macleish and Lady Isobel (Tooth And Claw (2006))

Magic moment: “I must defend her majesty. Now, don't think of me, just go!”

As Lady Isbobel had been taken hostage by the Brethren, Sir Robert had no choice but to co-operate with their plan to lure Queen Victoria to Torchwood House so that she could become the next host of the werewolf infection. In the end, Sir Robert gave his life defending his queen, so that his wife could remember him with honour, and by creating a top-secret organisation named after his house.

Love theme: I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

 

32 John and Carol (The Sensorites (1964))

Magic moment: “Can you imagine what it's like being in love with someone, to look at them, to see them and know they've been destroyed?”

Over the course of the story, John and Carol undergo a transformation. At the beginning, Carol is in a state of suspended animation while John has taken to skulking in the shadows, whimpering, as his hair turns grey. By the end of the story, John has been restored to full mental health and dark hair while Carol has had a complete make-over. After all she’s been through you can hardly blame her.

Love theme: No Matter What

 

33 Laszlo and Tallulah (Daleks In Manhattan/Evolution of the Daleks (2007))

Magic moment: “Laszlo? My Laszlo? Oh, what have they done to you?”

It’s the classic Phantom Of The Opera tale, the story of a New York city show-girl and her stage-hand boyfriend who has been transformed into a Dalek pig slave. But he still leaves a rose on her dressing table, and despite his snout and tusks, Tallulah never stops loving him. She’s not superficial like that.

Love theme: Never Gonna Give You Up

 

34 Thara and Vana (The Krotons (1968))

Magic moment: “Vana, you're all right now. You're home.”

When the announcement comes that Vana is to become a companion of the Krotons, Thara can’t believe his ears. He begs Vana to run away with him, but instead she reluctantly submits herself to the dynatrope. But Vana rows that he will always remember her. Gond, but not forgotten.

Love theme: Baby Come Back

 

35 Hal Korwin and Kath McDonnell (42 (2007))

Magic moment: “I love you.”

Realising that her husband Korwin has been killed and re-animated by the consciousness of  a living sun, and that she was responsible, McDonnell decides there is only one course of action available to her. She lures him into an airlock, embraces him and ejects them both into space.

Love theme: You Are My Sunshine

 

36 Oscar Botcherby and Anita (The Two Doctors (1985))

Magic moment: “Please take care of my beautiful moths.”

To be honest, Oscar has done pretty well to catch Anita, his ‘dark-eyed naiad’. He’s not exactly the most masculine of men and his idea of a fun day out is to wander the countryside killing butterflies. But clearly she sees something in him, and is devastated when he gets pinned like one of his moths.

Love theme: Stuck On You

 

37 Lazar and Vira (The Ark In Space (1975))

Magic moment: “It's over, Vira. You and I are alive again.”

It’s  only in part three of this story, after Lazar has nearly completed his transformation into a Wirrn, that we learn from Vira that she and Lazar had been ‘pair-bonded’ for life on the new Earth, and just for a moment Vira’s composure wavers as she permits herself a moment of grief.

Love theme: Self Control

 

38 Tony Mack and Doctor Nasreen Chaudhry (The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood (2009))

Magic moment: “I've got what I was digging for. I can't leave when I've only just found it.”

Just like Greg and Petra, it was an ill-fated project to drill into the Earth that brought Tony and Nasreen together, with a moment of passion in a besieged church. After Tony became infected by a Silurian sting they decided to join the Silurians in hibernation, to start a new life in the future.

Love theme: How Deep Is Your Love

 

39 Arthur Terrall and Ruth Maxtible (Evil Of The Daleks (1967))

Magic moment: “Arthur! What's the matter?”

Ever since he returned from the Crimea, Ruth’s fiancé Arthur has been behaving oddly. He’s become cold, belligerent, started having painful headaches and has started wearing an enormous cravat. The Doctor soon discovers the reason – a Dalek control device attached to Arthur’s neck. Freed from Dalek influence, Arthur and Ruth depart faster than you can say ‘irrelevant sub-plot’.

Love theme: My Ever Changing Moods

 

40 Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart and Doris (Battlefield (1989))

Magic moment: “Exactly how far are you intending to go, Doris?”

The love affair between Lethbridge-Stewart and Doris has always been shrouded in mystery. In Planet Of The Spiders (1974) we learned that she gave him a watch in a hotel in Brighton ‘to mark her gratitude’. Even when Doris finally appeared on screen, 15 years later, we still didn’t find out what it was she was grateful for.

Love theme: Mysterious Girl

BOX OUTS:

IS SHE REALLY GOING OUT WITH HIM?

As well as all the obvious love stories that have graced Doctor Who over the years, there have also been numerous romantic sub-plots which have been a little more ambiguous in nature. Where the relationship itself is implied, not so much by what is said but what is left unsaid, and by the actors’ performances. The classic examples being the romances of Dassuk and Venussa in The Ark (1966) and Leo Ryan and Tanya Lernov in The Wheel In Space (1968); in both cases the relationship isn’t mentioned in the script but exists because the actors decided to make their characters flirtatiously tactile with each other. Similarly, the evident chemistry between Tom Baker and Lalla Ward during the filming of City Of Death (1979) suggests that the Doctor may have been particularly fond of the second Romana, probably.

There’s also an element of wish-fulfilment to it too. We’d like to think that Ian and Barbara got together after they had left the Doctor, and that Ben and Polly also made a go of it, and we finally got our wish in the Death Of The Doctor (2010) instalment of The Sarah Jane Adventures which established that Ian and Barbara got married and became professors in Cambridge (and never aged) and that Ben and Polly moved to India to run an orphanage. In the same episode Sarah mentions that she ‘loved’ Harry, but sadly it seems that nothing ever came of it (as School Reunion (2006) implies that Sarah has been alone since her travels with the Doctor). However, it seems we will never know whether Lieutenant Jeremy Carstairs settled down with Lady Jennifer Buckingham after the events of The War Games (1969); (it’s possible, though, that they may have had a grandson who followed in their footsteps and became a colonel with UNIT, and another grandson who became the Head of Research at the Nuton Power complex. After all, there is a conspicuous family resemblance).

There have also been a number of outwardly homosexual couples in Doctor Who over the years; not explicitly stated, of course, but what else are we to infer when Guiliano refers to Marco as his ‘companion’ in The Masque Of Mandragora (1976)? Or the obvious affection between Amelia Rumford and Vivian Fay in The Stones Of Blood (1978), sharing a cottage and a disparaging attitude to the male gender? Or Australian backpackers Robin Stuart and Colin Frazer spooning in their sleeping bags in Arc Of Infinity (1983)? Or Gilbert M and Joseph C, running away together in a spaceship at the end of The Happiness Patrol (1988)? There might also have been something going on between Ricky Smith and Jake Simmonds in Rise Of The Cybermen/The Age Of Steel (2006); there certainly was in the script, though all references to their sex life ended up on the cutting room floor.

Similarly open to interpretation have been the various Doctor Who ‘workplace romances’. I can’t be the only person to suspect there is something going on between the President of Earth and General Williams in Frontier In Space (1973); why else would she put up with him mooning around the office all the time? There’s also Morgus, who seems to have chosen to have a deliberately small elevator fitted to his building just so he can share intimate moments with Krau Timmin in 1984’s The Caves Of Androzani; how much greater her betrayal if they were also lovers? Vogel would also appear to be far more than a secretary to Kara in Revelation of the Daleks (1985); why else would all their dialogue be laced with innuendo?

By way of contrast, though, there have been several couples in Doctor Who which seem so utterly lacking of passion it’s hard to believe they are supposed to be romantically linked. Kimus and Mula in The Pirate Planet (1978), for instance, seem to have more interest in K-9 than for each other, while Jondar and Areta in Vengeance On Varos (1985) just seem embarrassed to be in each others’ company. But the least convincing couple of all have to be Mykros and Vena from Timelash (1985), who barely acknowledge each other’s existence over the course of the story. Or maybe that makes them the most convincing couple of all.

 

A QUESTION OF LUST

Of course, not every moment of ardour in Doctor Who is the product of true love. When Cassandra – in the body of Rose Tyler – grabs the Doctor and snogs his face off in New Earth (2006) it’s pure lust. And it made a nice change for the Doctor to be the one fending off unwanted advances, as that has usually been the preserve of his female companions. For a while it seemed that Peri couldn’t step out of the TARDIS without having some alien sleazeball slavering after her; Sharaz Jek claimed he couldn’t live without her beauty, while Jobel and the Borad’s motives were much less wholesome. At least Shockeye only wanted to cook her; quite what Mestor the slug intended boggles the mind.

But while Peri had her work cut out dealing with gastropods that found her strangely pleasing, she wasn’t the most lusted-after of the Doctor’s companions. That unpleasant honour falls to Barbara Wright. To be fair, Leon Colbert’s advances were (ostensibly) noble, and Ganatus was a charmer, but the same can’t be said for Vasor the fur trapper, the Emperor Nero and El Akir. Maybe it was her backcombed hair, maybe it was her cardigan, but there was something about Barbara that drove men wild. No wonder Ian couldn’t resist accompanying her to that junkyard; it was only his bad luck that it turned out to be one of the most disastrous dates in history.

 

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

 Given the limited time and opportunity, it is hardly surprising that Doctor Who romances tend to be on the rapid side, with couples often meeting, exchanging longing looks and deciding to settle down together within the space of a single adventure (which may only take place over a few hours). King Yrcanos certainly didn’t waste any time when it came to wooing Peri, and the Doctor and Grace Holloway saw fireworks after spending barely half a day together. But more remarkable still are those relationships which seem to happen virtually instantaneously, where the force of attraction is so strong that the couple has hardly been introduced before they’re strolling off into the sunset together. Such whirlwind romances do tend to stretch credibility – and cynically-minded viewers may conclude that one, or both, of the participants are a bit ‘easy’ as a result.

But let’s not be cynical. There’s actually something rather endearing about the way Ping Cho falls for Ling Tau in Marco Polo (1964), and the way Malcolm Wainwright immediately sets his cap at Kathy Nightingale in Blink (2007). It’s a pity that Ace’s burgeoning romances with Sergeant Mike Smith (in Remembrance Of The Daleks (1988)) and Captain Sorin (in The Curse Of Fenric (1989)) were both so brief and tragic (she clearly has a thing for soldiers, although judging by her flirtation with Sergeant Leigh her chat-up lines are so cryptic that even the Ultima machine couldn’t decode them).

More recently, John Riddell and Queen Nefertiti found love in the face of adversity in Dinosaurs On A Spaceship (2012); unfortunately by the time the episode was broadcast evidence had come to light that Nefertiti did not mysteriously disappear but in fact remained in Egypt ruling with her husband Akhenaten until his death. But Vicki’s lightning liaison with Troilus in The Myth Makers (1965) played equally fast-and-loose with matters of historical accuracy, as the story of Troilus and Cressida (Vicki’s new name given to her by King Priam) is actually not part of the legend of Troy but dates from the twelfth century. So clearly love is no respecter of established historical fact.

But Doctor Who’s most infamous case of instantaneous attraction has to be that of Leela and Andred in The Invasion Of Time (1978) where, despite having barely spoken a word to Andred during the course of the story, Leela decided to stay with him on Gallifrey. One can only conclude that love blossomed off-screen while the Doctor was out cold, or that Leela’s amorous faculties were still addled from being subjected to the pacifier in Underworld (1977) which caused her to make doe-eyes at Orfe.

 

LOVING THE ALIEN

The Doctor Who universe is an extremely broad-minded place. If gender, age, mortality, being from different periods of history, or even being in entirely the wrong universe is no obstacle to love, why should the species barrier be any different? As we’ve already seen with Billy and Delta, so long as both parties look approximately human it would seem to be the case that anything goes. You can have humans forging romantic relationships with Argolins (Hardin and Mena in The Leisure Hive (1980) clearly have a history, and a future, together). You can have humans interbreeding with Cat People (Thomas Kincaid Brannigan and Valerie in Gridlock (2007)), giant wasps (Clemency Eddison and Christopher the Vespiform in The Unicorn And The Wasp (2008)) and no doubt Bannakaffalatta the Zocci would, given the chance, have found some kind of bliss with Astrid Peth (Voyage Of The Damned (2007)). You can even have somebody falling in love with a disguised segment of The Key To Time, as in the case of Merak and Princess Astra in The Armageddon Factor (1979) – although one wonders whether their offspring would resemble the contents of an ice tray.

You see, with these cosmically cosmopolitan couplings, the trick is not to think about them too hard. The love felt by a Dalek android (Professor Edwin Bracewell) for a girl (Dorabella) that it remembers from a stolen memory implanted into its electronic brain may be authentic enough to prevent it exploding (Victory the Daleks (2010)) but let’s not think about what will happen when he finally catches up with her and she finds herself being courted by a one-handed robot with a brass torso. (He would stand a better chance on Penhaxico Two, where the ladies are very fond of metal). Similarly, let’s draw a diplomatic veil over precisely how much ‘nefarious excitement’ was shared by Scaroth, the last of the Jagaroth, in his guise as Count Trancredi with the Countess (City Of Death (1979)). Let’s just assume their chateau had separate bedrooms and Scaroth was happy to delegate his domestic responsibilities to their butler Hermann.

The point is, even the most unlikeliest couples can get it together, and there can be no better example of this than Madame Vastra and her wife Jenny Flint (A Good Man Goes To War (2011)). Vastra is a green, scaly Silurian from prehistoric Earth while Jenny is a cockney. It’s the ultimate upstairs-downstairs relationship; one of them has spent her life on the surface, while the other has spent millions of years buried underground. One of them has an extendable tongue and is quite happy to eat human beings, while the other is a human being. In fact, the only thing they have in common is that they’re both Victorian crime-fighting lesbians. So somehow they make it work, and if they can make it work, so can anyone.

 

HAVE YOU EVER NEEDED SOMEONE SO BAD

 The unhappy tale of Martha Jones demonstrates that sometimes the most heartbreaking love stories of all are those about unrequited love, about frustrated hopes that can never be. Usually, it’s because the girl has fallen for the villain of the piece; maybe he’s simply stringing along because she’s useful to him, as in the case of Count Grendel and Madame Lamia in The Androids Of Tara (1978) or Kane and Belazs in Dragonfire (1987) for whom he had ‘former feelings’. Maybe he’s just not interested, as in the case of Jobel and Tasembeker in Revelation Of The Daleks (1985). Maybe he is unaware that he is the villain, as in the case of Professor Yana and Chantho in Utopia (2007). But in all these cases, unrequited love never ends well; Grendel sends Lamia to her death, Kane kills Belazs, Professor Yana becomes the Master and kills Chantho, and Tasembeker stabs Jobel with a syringe in a jealous rage and gets exterminated for her trouble.

More touching, though, are the love stories that never quite got started. Jamie managed to get a goodbye kiss from Samantha Briggs when she left him in 1967’s The Faceless Ones; a year later, he gives Victoria a single kiss when she breaks his heart by leaving a year later in Fury From The Deep (1968). Their final scene together, sitting in the garden, is one of the most poignant scenes the show has ever had, followed by a dialogue-free scene as Victoria waves the Doctor and Jamie goodbye on the beach (reminiscent of the scene where Rose and the Doctor part in Doomsday (2006)).

The other great unrequited love story is that of Marriner the Eternal and Tegan in Enlightenment (1983). Marriner starts the story as a blank, but finds himself fascinated by the contents of Tegan’s mind. As he puts it, she’s ‘not like any ephemeral he’s ever met before’. It’s an uncanny, submissive form of obsession. It’s not love; it’s something clinical, devoid of emotion, culminating in a fabulous scene where he tells Tegan ‘You are life itself. Without you I am nothing’. When she asks him if he means he’s in love with her, he doesn’t even understand the concept. But for all its creepiness, you can’t help feeling sorry for Marriner when Tegan finally rejects him because there is something innocent, almost childlike, in the way he pursues her. I just don’t recommend using his chat-up lines.