Under Three Hundred

The random witterings of Jonathan Morris, writer.

Thursday, 22 October 2026

Locked Out Of Heaven

SHADA – The full story at last

To begin with, a little bit of backstory for context. After the 1973 oil crisis, the UK experienced a period of high inflation, in much the same way that we are now experiencing increased inflation due to the invasion of Ukraine and the war on Iran. That meant that workers needed their wages to keep up with the inflation just to pay the bills, while some employers were resistant to increasing wages as it would mean they would have increased costs which might mean they couldn’t keep up with loans; and so on as you can imagine. The BBC doesn’t seem to have been particularly well-managed in the late 70s so every year, around November, there would be a couple of weeks of strikes from workers before the management awarded them a pay rise to keep up with inflation. You might ask, why didn’t the management just do that without workers needing to strike? I don’t know. Maybe they wanted to give the impression that they were awarding pay awards reluctantly and under duress to demonstrate a responsible attitude to stewardship of public money. Let’s say it was that.

Anyway, there were certainly strikes in 1977 and 1978. The ones in 1977, and the subsequent pay award, seems to have been one of the reasons, if not the main reason, why Underworld had to resort to CSO and model caves because, as producer Graham Williams described it, he went away on holiday for a week and came back to discover that they no longer had the money to build the cave sets. He would say this was due to inflation but in terms of television production, your main cost is wage costs, and when they increased with inflation they didn’t do so gradually and predictably across the year; what happened is that they would fall behind inflation, and then there’d be a settlement to bring them in line with inflation (not an increase as such even if the numbers went up). In 1977, the settlement for set construction workers wages seems to have happened while Williams was away on holiday. And then later in the year more strike action meant that The Invasion of Time was allocated less studio time and ended up shooting a lot of material on location in St Anne’s Hospital instead. I don’t have the Season 15 blu-ray yet but I expect there are details in the production paperwork for Underworld and The Invasion of Time, this is the sort of thing that creates correspondence.

In 1978, despite it being the so-called “Winter of discontent”, Doctor Who seems to have got off fairly lightly. The studio recordings for The Armageddon Factor on the 20, 21 and 22 of November were delayed by between 15 minutes and two hours, though it’s had to tell if they had any impact on the quality of the nevertheless-finished production. But this is a useful bit of context about the nature of strike action by BBC workers at the time; to irritate and add to pressure (and possibly overtime costs) but not to an extent that it meant production had to be cancelled outright.

So what was happening in 1979? Inflation was about 13% and the election of a Conservative government in May would have probably meant that BBC management would have felt even more pressure to demonstrate a responsible attitude to stewardship of public money and that they were only awarding only-in-line-with-inflation settlements because the unions were forcing them to.

Nevertheless, there wasn’t actually much strike action at the BBC that year – certainly not in comparison to that at ITV, which you will already know caused it to cease broadcasting for several months. What strikes that took place were designed to affect live programmes, because that will have the most impact – viewers would notice! – and would also be harder, if not impossible, for management to find ways of working around. And so it was that A Song For Europe 1979 (the song selecting the UK’s entry, not Eurovision itself) was pulled off the air, depriving viewers of a live performance of Harry, My Honolulu Lover by The Nolans. Later, on 15 November, a strike by sound engineers prevented the BBC giving live coverage of Miss World 1979 but the management got around it by transmitting a pre-recording of the parade of lovely ladies, followed by an unscheduled repeat of Ronnie Barker’s appalling Futtocks End comedy special, before providing live but soundless coverage of the winner being crowned (Miss Bermuda, in case you were wondering).

And, around the same time, Doctor Who was also affected, when an “industrial dispute” meant the night shoot planned for 18 October was replaced by a day shoot on 19 October. I put “industrial dispute” in quotation marks because that’s how it is described by Ralph Watson, Production Assistant, in a memo from 23 October. It’s described as a “strike” in the Artist’s Time Sheet on the 22 October but, as we shall see, that seems to have been what they wrote whenever there was industrial action. Whatever the dispute was that day, it doesn’t seem to have been part of any sort of national walk-out or anything like that, but I have no problem with people calling it a strike because it was, clearly, a case of the workers withholding their labour.

The Artist’s Time Sheet I refer to, by the way, is for the Extras and Walk-Ons, because it turns out that six extras were booked for the night shoot. Quite what was planned is not clear; the scripts are no use because they describe it as “SEQUENCE as directed”. The film schedule makes it clear the extras would be appearing in a sequence shot at Round Church; as scheduled, the shoot would have begun at Blackmoor Head Yard (for the final part of the sequence, as in the day shoot) followed by filming at Green Street, then Round Church on Bridge Street, then All Saints Passage, then Trinity Street (all, I think, different locations to those used in the day shoot).

So, anyway, as we all know, production on Shada continued, with effects shots of people entering and leaving the invisible spaceship and some model shots being shot at Ealing Film Studios Stage 2 on 22 October and the first recording block at Television Centre Studio 3 on 3, 4 and 5 November. With the next recording block scheduled for 19 and 20 November...

What I’ll do now is try to provide a timeline of events. I expect Doctor Who historian and social media japester David Brunt will cover it in even more detail when he gets around to writing his book on it, but this will have to do for now.

Thursday 15 November

Industrial action by the union ABS (Association of Broadcasting Staff) disrupts live coverage of Miss World 1979 and tennis on BBC 2 (it was still shown, but with a musical accompaniment rather than commentary). The action concerns a dispute over the wage regrading for television sound assistants (hence the action taken being of a sound engineering nature); as reported by The Daily Telegraph the next day, the BBC “considers the present grading structure unwieldy and in danger of collapse [....] and had hoped the ABS would agree to suspend those agreements so that a new structure putting everyone into five blocks of grades could be discussed”.

Friday 16 November

ACAS (the Advisory, Conciliation and Arbitration Service) intervenes to try to resolve the dispute between ABS and the BBC but without success. It is possible that live coverage of Ascot is affected.

Saturday 17 November

 As far as ABS is concerned, the dispute about wage-regarding is no longer just about sound engineers but also technical engineers. Strike action causes the edition of Multi-Coloured Swap Shop to be pulled in the morning and transmission of Grandstand to be delayed (a cartoon filled in the time, reportedly Tom and Jerry). Thankfully transmission of the final episode of The Creature from the Pit was unaffected, and the live transmission of Match of the Day later in the evening also seems to have gone ahead as planned (there is no report of it being disrupted).

Sunday 18 November

There doesn’t seem to have been any industrial action this day.

Monday 19 November

The ABS national executive meets. As reported by the Evening Standard, the dispute is “over the BBC’s decision to stop staff regrading pending the introduction of a new grading structure in the New Year” and led to “100 technicians being taken ‘off the BBC payroll’ this weekend for refusing to work with management staff brought in to replace 18 striking technical managers”. Whatever the rights and wrongs of workers essentially being suspended without pay for refusing to be strike-breakers, it’s clearly an escalation.

Doctor Who – The actors Daniel Hill and Victoria Burgoyne begin camera rehearsal at midday. They break for lunch at 1pm. At 1.45 Tom Baker puts his costume on and is given make-up. He heads to the studio TC 6 with Daniel and Victoria at 2pm and begin to camera rehearse the scenes in Chris’ lab.

At approximately 3.05 producer Graham Williams, on “the advice of General Manager Studios and at the direction of HSS” (Head Series/Serials, Graeme MacDonald) abandons the studio recording. He then writes a memo to the OSS (Organiser Series/Serials) noting this and says “I understand that normal working will resume tomorrow and we are investigating the possibility of continuing the next day to continue this particular story.”

According to the Artist’s Studio Call Sheet, the cast all leave at about 3.30pm apart from K-9 voice actor David Brierley who arrives at the studio at 5pm, having been given a later call-time, and then goes home at 5.30pm.

Industrial action affects the live transmission of Nationwide which uses pre-recorded film items. The edition of Panorama is also cancelled, but this may be due to its controversial content – the Blunt affair – or because of an unrelated dispute regarding an attempt by management to fire its editor, Roger Bolton, after a recent edition on the IRA. It may even be a combination of all three reasons.

The live transmission of Blue Peter is not affected by the industrial action; at this point the show is in the midst of a fundraising appeal for Cambodian refugees which the ABS do not wish to disrupt.

As reported in The Guardian the following day, “recordings of Dr Who and a variety programme were called off”. The variety programme in question is Six of a Kind, the pilot episode for what later became Three of a Kind, starring Lenny Henry and David Copperfield with Don Mclean, Karen Kay, Pearly Gates and Leah Bell, but without Tracy Ulman.

Bill Cotton, controller of BBC 1, writes to members of staff warning them that anyone going on strike will have to sign a “personal declaration” of normal working before being allowed to resume work. This hardball tactic has the effect of making the dispute much worse as the ABS General Secretary says the union will be stepping up its action but “there is no question at the moment of an all-out stoppage.”

Tuesday 20 November

Doctor Who – At 8.15am Graham Williams is called by the Shada set designer, Vic Meredith, asking why the studio has been locked. He arrives at the studio himself at 9.30am, with no idea why the studio has been locked. He is “naturally concerned [...] that this could be construed in a sensitive situation as a ‘lock out’”.

Williams contacts HSS and at 10.45 is instructed to abandon the studio recording at around 10.45-11.00. 

He then writes two memos to OSS. The first is to inform him that “We are proceeding with outside rehearsals for the next set of studios and await your advice as to how the loss of two days can best be made up”.

The second gives a detailed account of the morning’s events, as recorded above. He is also clearly pissed off that he wasn’t called the previous night to let him know that the recording would be abandoned.

Now this is all really important. Firstly, Graham Williams, the man who was there, literally standing at the locked door of the studio, describes the situation as resembling a “lock-out”. And he reinforces that point by making it clear in the second memo that he regards the decision to cancel the recording as a management decision which it clearly was.

It seems likely that the second recording day of Six of a Kind is scrapped; “Luckily, there was a strike and the whole thing got quietly put away” according to Lenny Henry interviewed in 2015.; however, there is no information about whether the recording of the Francis Durbage drama Breakaway in TC 3 went ahead or not – the programme was certainly finished, as it was broadcast on BBC 1 from the 11 January 1980. It’s on Youtube if you want to see it.

The live transmission of Nationwide is targeted by industrial action but seems to be unaffected from a viewers’ point of view. Question Time is also affected.

In the evening, at the request of the crew, the ABS allows the planned edition of Crackerjack to go ahead at the Television Theatre (now the Shepherd’s Bush Empire) on the grounds that children were already travelling to see the show and it would be cruel to disappoint them. However, the show is only performed for the theatre audience and is not recorded.

Wednesday 21 November

According to the report in the Evening Standard on the following day, recordings of The Generation Game, Parkinson, Grange Hill, Jackanory and Playschool are cancelled. Nationwide is targeted again, more noticeably. An arts programme called Mainstream is also affected and Pebble Mill at One and The Book Programme are replaced with repeats of previous editions.

Nevertheless, recording of Top of the Pops goes ahead as normal, including mimed performances of I Don’t Want To Be A Freak (But I Can’t Help Myself) by Dynasty and Monkey Chop by Dan-i. It’s introduced by Dave Lee Travis so don’t expect to see it on BBC Four anytime soon.

The Daily Telegraph reports on the dispute, as they call it. Talks between the ABS and the BBC have broken down and there are no plans for further meetings. They explain that “the dispute started two weeks ago when electricians staged a series of one-day unofficial walkouts, affecting programme production. Technicians and other production staff also started a series of 24-hour stoppages which have disrupted programmes such as Panorama, Nationwide and weather forecasts”. They go on to say that the BBC have now “laid off” 300 staff for refusing to “give assurances of normal working” and “have been declared by the BBC to be on strike”. They are also threatening to take any remaining workers who fail to give assurance of normal working practices with being taken off the payroll. “production was stopped yesterday on Dr Who, Play School and Six of a Kind”.

Now, this article is really important, and despite it being in The Daily Telegraph I think it gives us a good insight into what was going on. Note first that the BBC was the one declaring workers it had sent home (possibly temporarily, possibly permanently) as being on strike. This is, essentially, what a management lock-out is. Secondly, it’s clear that this story has come from the BBC, as it’s giving their version of events, so it’s interesting to note that they are the ones saying which programmes have been affected – it’s notable that two of them are beloved children’s programmes (nobody would have had a clue what Six of a Kind was at the time).

The Evening Standard also reports on the dispute, claiming that “lighting strikes – which have now cost the BBC almost £500,000 in lost productions – yesterday stopped work on half a dozen programmes, including Robin Day’s Question Time and Dr Who”. This article is also clearly sourced from the BBC as it quotes BBC deputy manging director Robin Scott warning staff that the corporation “remains resolute”. The £500,000 figure seems rather high for three days of quite straightforward studio recording.

Why would the BBC want readers to know which programmes were being affected and how much it was allegedly costing? The obvious interpretation is because they wanted public opinion to be on their side; while the strikes by the ABS were intended to be very visible but to only be on live programmes, the management seems to have taken the view that viewers will be less sympathetic if it was children’s programming and The Generation Game that was affected. As BBC deputy managing director Robin Scott makes clear in the Evening Standard “Nothing, least of all public support, can be achieved by the present disruptive and damaging action”.

Thursday 22 November

Doctor Who – 10.00 – 500. The cast begin rehearsals for the next studio block in Room 602 of the BBC Television Rooms, Victoria Road, Acton, covering scenes in Skagra’s ship.

The Artists’ Time Sheet is issued claiming that the two recording days were “Cancelled due to strike”.

Technicians volunteer to work on Blue Peter for free so that it can include a film report on the appeal for Cambodian refugees. BBC management refuses to allow this, deducts the pay from the crew’s wages, and the report is included in John Craven’s Newsround instead.

Nationwide is still transmitted despite crew action. Another recording of The Generation Game is cancelled. Tomorrow’s World seems to go ahead as normal. A pilot of the sitcom Oh Happy Band! Is scheduled to be recorded today; it’s not clear whether it goes ahead but at some point it is recorded, as it is transmitted, along with another five episodes of this entirely-forgotten David Croft and Jeremy Lloyd sitcom, in September 1980.

The Evening Standard reports on the Blue Peter dispute (“‘We’ll work for free’ offer is turned down by BBC”) and the programmes which failed to be recorded the previous day (again, this information can only have come from the BBC itself). It also reports that the strike has now escalated to include technical operators and sound crews in Manchester and technical staff in Bristol, and that the BBC has now taken a total of 400 workers off the payroll.

Friday 23 November

Doctor Who – 10.00 – 5.00 Rehearsals continue, with scenes in Skagra’s Ship and in Shada.

A Sypher session for this day is abandoned because the Grams Operator is reallocated elsewhere without Williams being notified. ‘Sypher’ isn’t a mis-spelling for cypher, it’s what the BBC called the machine they used to do cypher dubs (ie adding sound effects and fixing any audio faults).

Doctor Who script editor and Shada writer Douglas Adams attends the second recording session for episode 9 of his radio series The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (recording on this episode had begun on 14 November).

All the workers who worked on the edition of Crackerjack are informed by management that they are now sacked because they were deemed to be in breach of contract for withholding labour (when in fact they had turned up and worked as usual). They are informed that the Crackerjack production had been cancelled by the management and that they had, in effect, broken the ‘lock-out’ and they were not only dismissed but would not be paid for the past three days. (The BBC doesn’t actually carry out this threat and in the end pays the crew their wages for this and the 22 November edition of Blue Peter). (Source: Roger Bunce and the TM’s dispute from the tech-ops website).

Nationwide is still transmitted despite crew action. Recordings scheduled for today include The Goodies and an insert for something called Lloyd George; again, I can’t tell whether they went ahead or were deferred but The Goodies series was broadcast complete in January 1980 and, if Lloyd George was The Life and Times Of David Lloyd George, that also got finished and was shown in 1981.

Saturday 24 November

Doctor Who – 9.30 – 1.30 Rehearsals continue with scenes in Shada.

There are no reports of programme disruption on this day. Multi-Coloured Swap Shop goes ahead as planned with an appearance by Andrew Sachs in character as “Manuel”. Part one of Nightmare of Eden is broadcast to the enormous of delight of yours truly. If the scheduled edition of Parkinson with Rolf Harris went ahead we’re not going to be seeing it again anytime soon.

Sunday 25 November

There are no reports of programme disruption on this day. Looking at the schedule, though, you kind of wish there had been, some cartoons might have livened it up.

Monday 26 November

As reported in The Guardian the following day, two of the three remaining crews at TV centre are now withholding their labour and the number of employees removed from the payroll is 450. Blue Peter goes ahead as normal with the remaining crew (it includes a report on the Edinburgh and East Scotland Cat Show) and Nationwide is also transmitted. The Guardian accurately summarises the dispute: “Technical staff have been trying to put pressure on BBC management by staging one-day strikes and refusing to guarantee normal work. The corporation has replied by suspending the offending crews.”

Doctor Who – 10-00 – 5.00 Rehearsals continue with scenes in Skagra’s ship.

Regarding last weeks’ Sypher booking; Williams is informed by the OSS that the Grams Operator was reallocated to Blake’s 7 and that the session would have run out of time anyway. He is advised to make another Sypher booking – “bearing in mind the present industrial dispute”. This is the first intimation that the next studio block might not be going ahead.

Tuesday 27 November

The BBC meets ABS, but not to discuss the current dispute but to discuss the effect of the new license fee settlement on wage rates. The executive of the ABS then meets in the afternoon to consider their next move; they are “still determined the action will continue”.

According to the Evening Standard the industrial action has now cost the BBC £900,000 and 540 staff have been taken off the payroll.

Nationwide is still broadcast in a rudimentary form.

Doctor Who – 10-00 – 4.00 Rehearsals continue with scenes in Shada and Skagra’s ship.

Williams replies to the OSS regarding the Sypher booking, pointing out that Doctor Who’s needs are more urgent and that the session was going fine.

Wednesday 28 November

Production at TV Centre has now ceased on anything apart from news bulletins. There are now 600 staff off the payroll. Nationwide is finally cancelled after the ABS threaten to pull the plug on it if the management attempt to transmit it without a technical team in place. It is replaced with an old documentary, subject unknown (and is also replaced on Thursday and Friday).

Doctor Who – 10-00 – 5.00 Rehearsals continue with a work through in recording order.

Thursday 29 November

The Daily Telegraph reports on the dispute - “Action stepped up in BBC dispute” – and reporter Ian Bradley accurately summarises the nature of the dispute in detail and accurately explains that the workers have been taken of the payroll for refusing to sign the undertaking to work as normal rather than actually being on strike.

According to The Guardian, “some items due to been screened in Christmas week have been lost.” It is not clear what programmes these are.

Blue Peter is “blacked out” despite it being due to include a film on the Cambodia appeal.

Doctor Who – 10-00 – 5.00 Rehearsals continue with a technical run and producer’s run.

Friday 30 November

The Guardian has two reports on the industrial action’; an item on the Blue Peter cancellation and a piece on the background to the industrial action courtesy with ‘Tom’, “a sober, respectable middle-class” technical manager. Apparently 600 people are now “on strike” (my quotation marks) and are “taken off the payroll” (the reporter’s quotation marks).

Doctor Who – 10-00 Rehearsals begin.

At 11.45 Williams is called by the OSS to be instructed to abandon the production of Shada. The cast and crew are informed. He sends a memo to the OSS saying that, in discussion with Graeme MacDonald, the Head of Series/Serials, “the decision to abandon was in many ways through to be a relief. At leas the elements of uncertainty have now vanished”.

Williams then writes to the cast and crew saying that at “Lunchtime today I heard the most heartbreaking news. Our story has not only been postponed, but cancelled without a commitment to a remount date. You can guess my feelings. It seems such a shame for all our hard work to amount to nothing at all”.

Williams then gets on a plane with Tom Baker to attend the first Doctor Who convention in the USA, at the Continental Hyatt House, Los Angeles.

ABS representatives and BBC management have a meeting at ACAS in the evening...

Saturday 1 December

...and have agreed on a ‘peace formula for the dispute, as reported in The Guardian and The Daily Telegraph. Nevertheless, this is too late for today’s editions of The Generation Game and Parkinson, which are replaced with repeats of earlier editions, while Grandstand loses coverage of the finals of the snooker championship and the rugby league, replacing them with reports on gymnastics and ice skating. Part two of Nightmare of Eden, however, is transmitted without incident.

The BBC now estimates the cost of the industrial action as £1.5 million.

Doctor Who – This would have been the first day of recording of the third studio block. As the dispute has not been formally resolved it is unlikely anything is recorded in the vacant studio.

Sunday 2 December

Sunday Worship is replaced with a repeat of an earlier edition, and tonight’s edition of Rising Stars (a talent show hosted by Lennie Bennet) is replaced with a repeat of ABBA in Switzerland, first shown in April, which is a great improvement.

The Sunday Telegraph reports that if the ‘peace formula’ is accepted by the ABS executive on Monday then BBC TV programmes could be back to normal by the middle of the week. This report is (perhaps surprisingly) very accurate as it makes it clear the 600 technicians have been “suspended” rather than being on strike. The cost is now estimated as £1,501,000 – it’s gone up by £1000 since yesterday.

A BBC spokesman is quoted as saying “Once we get back to normal production the first thing we shall do will be the Christmas shows. There should be no disruption to them if we get back to work in the next few days”. 

Doctor Who – This would have been the second day of recording of the third studio block. Again, as the dispute has not been resolved it is unlikely anything was recorded in the vacant studio.

Monday 3 December

The ABS executive agree to the ‘peace formula’, which is described by the BBC as a “compromise solution” but which appears to be the BBC management backtracking on their decision to stop staff regrading and reinstating all suspended workers with full pay for their missing days. Blue Peter and Nationwide return to the nation’s screens.

Doctor Who – This would have been the final day of recording of the third studio block. The studio is probably allocated to the recording of the edition of The Little and Large Show broadcast on 1 January 1980.. The artists’ time sheet records the three cancelled Doctor Who studio days as ‘Cancelled due to strike’. They are all paid as if the studio recordings had gone ahead.

Douglas Adams attends the recording of episode 10 of The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

For the rest of December there is paperwork regarding the cancellation, including a letter to Dudley Simpson informing him that his musical services will not be required (this letter is copied to Ronnie Hazlehurst for some reason).

And that’s it as far as the industrial action is concerned, and Shada too. Incoming producer John Nathan-Turner briefly tries to get Shada remounted as a four-part story from April 1980; this becomes a two fifty-minute part story before being abandoned in June 1980 due to “the unavailability of studios and servicing”.

There are now over four thousand versions of Shada, and counting.

The question you might like to ask is why did the management cancel the recordings on the Monday 20 November and Tuesday 21 November? Let’s put it this way. It’s easy to imagine a version of events where the recording was scuppered by a crew strike. The cast and crew are told by their union reps not to turn up for work or try to get to the studio but are stopped because there’s a picket line. Or, if there’s no advance warning, they start camera rehearsals or recording but then a person essential the production withholds their labour – ie the person responsible for pressing ‘record’ on the video recorder – at which point recording grinds to a halt and everyone goes home. It’s not hard to imagine as that’s what normally happened whenever a strike was called.

But the door to the studio being locked is different. Strikers don’t have the power or the keys to lock studio doors. That’s management; in this case, the HSS. You wouldn’t need to lock the doors if you knew the recording was going to be scuppered by a strike anyway. You would only need to do that if you thought the recording wasn’t going to be scuppered by a strike but you wanted to stop it going ahead. Because you wanted to be the one who decided which programmes were cancelled, rather it being up to the unions or the crews. Because you wanted to change the nature of the industrial action from being about technicians causing annoying and very noticeable disruptions to live broadcasts to being one where it was causing programmes to be cancelled with the rest of the cast and crew being deprived of work (but not payment, everyone who turned up for work still got paid).

But it’s fair to say, yes, the management lock-out was in response to industrial action. There was a strike. The ABS were withholding their labour. So you could, if you really wanted to, say that the lock-out was because of the strike because it was in response to the strike. In the same way that the Three-Day Week was a response to the threat of a miner’s strike – with the same level of counterproductivity. But it was also a decision made by the management, a decision which was unnecessary and ill-considered, a decision which had the effect if not the intention of massively exacerbating the dispute; a dispute where the BBC were ‘grandstanding’ if not Grandstand-ing. A dispute which wasted a huge amount of money (if not quite as much as the BBC were claiming) and which only had one effect; leaving us one Doctor Who story short.

Friday, 11 September 2026

Don't Tell Me


I don’t read my reviews. It’s a matter of policy, the policy being this; reviews aren’t for the creators, they’re for the punters. As a creator – if it’s one of my works of art or lit that’s being crit – the review is going to be of very little use to me. It is, after all, far too late to act upon any criticisms. And, well, I don’t know about other writers, but there isn’t a single flaw in my work that I am not already painfully aware of. I am inordinately alert to all the shortcomings of everything I’ve ever written. “Well, why didn’t you do something about them then?”, you may ask. “You should have seen it before,” I might reply. Or, “I tried, but it made things worse” or “There wasn’t room”. Or even “That was part of the brief, so I was stuck with it!”

So, yes, reviews, too late in the day and they don’t tell me anything I don’t already know. The only reviews that are any use are the ones that come from script editors, directors, producers and so on during the writing process. And I’ve long since adopted a policy of acting on every note – not necessarily in the way suggested, but trying to solve the problem. Because people pointing out flaws is good, you want to know what marred someone’s enjoyment – and what didn’t, what you have managed to get away with. Because no story, no work of fiction is perfect. There will always be plot holes or coincidences or bits where it was more important for the exposition to be clear than it was for it to be subtle. 

But I love to review stuff. On the bluesky, I post reviews all the time, of albums, films, books, plays. I like to bring a bit of original Morris content to the table, and for that content to be generally positive, most of the time. Share the joy. But these reviews are meant for my fellow punters, they are not meant for the creators. Which is why I never tag them, even if they’re people I know and the review is gushingly positive. If they want to see reviews of their work, they can search for them, it should be their active choice. And if I started ‘tagging’ people in reviews, other people might look at that and think they should start tagging me in reviews of my stuff, and I’d have no grounds to protest. Because it does happen sometimes; someone thinks it would be kind to let me know they’ve reviewed something I’ve written, and sometimes that’s because they’ve enjoyed it and want me to know, which is lovely, but sometimes it’s just because they’ve given it 3/10 and they blithely think that news might brighten my day (if they have given it any thought at all).

It’s a form of etiquette; if reviews are for punters not creators it means they can be honest, written without fear or favour of what the creator might think, and if the creator wants to seek out their reviews, that is their prerogative. And if they want to respond, well, that’s up to them too. It’s happened to me on occasion; I reviewed a series about twenty years ago called The Lost Room and, although I enjoyed it, as is my wont I also took the piss, and then one of the creators replied saying that maybe I would like to considering going forth and multiplying. I hadn’t tagged them in the review, of course. I certainly hadn’t mentioned their name. They’d been ‘ego-surfing’ for reviews. And do you know what? After they’d told me to fuck off, I went back and rewatched that series and realised that actually it was much better than I first thought and I had been wrong to take the piss. No. That didn’t happen. Why would I do that? I didn’t do that.

So, yes, anyway. I don’t read my reviews, and I don’t want them brought to my attention, and I work on the basis that everyone else feels the same way. If they don’t, that’s fine, but for god’s sake, if you’re a creator who wants to seek out and read your bad reviews, rule one, for god’s sake never ever reply.

Friday, 28 August 2026

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