Enola Holmes 3 (2026)

 "There are two paths you can take, Enola. Yours, or the path others choose for you."

This sequel, with the same ensemble cast and the same writer in oft-rumoured future Doctor Who showrunner Jack Thorne, is exactly what we might expect, from the rollicking adventure to the nicely plotted mystery to the in media res beginning. This is, of course, no bad thing. This film is bloody good, giving us exactly what we expect and exactly what we want as far as the characters are concerned, with a satisfying whodunit to provide the mystery.

Yes, the film is full of anachronistic social attitudes to things like colonialism, gender roles, marriage and social class, especially with regards to a happy ending that could never fly in the actual 1880s. But this, again, is no bad thing. There are films where one can legitimately be demanding in terms of historical accuracy, yes indeed. This is not one of them. A family friendly romp should not concern itself with (SPOILERS!) the impossibility of a peer disclaiming his peerage eighty years before Tony Benn, or the even greater impossibility of the concluding ceremony being accepted as any kind of marriage at the time. Such things do not matter- a modern audience, with modern (and much more enlightened) values, must be entertained.

This film is, quite simply, fun. The cast is magnificent, the feminine contingent especially. Sharon Duncan-Brewster is extraordinary as a Moriarty with a surprising amount of depth. Helena Bonham Carter is, well, Helena Bonham Carter. And Millie Bobby Brown, with her charisma and her delicious fourth wall moments, carries the whole thing. Little Miss Llamastrangler (who called the film "peak") give this film our thorough endorsement.

Des: Episode 3

 "I could never have stopped..."

And it ends with a highly dramatic and entertaining courtroom drama, with twists and turns throughout until we reach the relief of the guilty verdict, a majority (but not all) of the jury rejecting Nielsen's claims of diminished responsibility.

Yet there's more to it that that. This is a deeply ethical episode of television that focuses heavily on the suffering of the victims, and those who mourn them. Neither we nor Peter Jay can fault the anger of the widow who's ex is not getting justice. Then there's Carl, a deeply traumatised survivor, who endures vile homophobic abuse not only outside the court but inside the witness box.

Also, though, it becomes disturbingly clear how Nilsen is controlling the whole narrative, despite the outcome, everything proceeding on his terms, including his acceptance of the verdict. And it's satisfying to see Brian Masters not only come to realise this, but to assert control in how he frames his biography, firmly stating that it's not about Nilsen's ego, but a "warning".

Nilsen may be charming when he wants to be, he may be unassuming. He may quote Cervantes. But he's also a deeply controlling monster who destroyed lives and caused untold suffering. This drama, and this final episode, examine this superbly and tastefully.

And, yet again, David Tennant is magnificent.

Des: Episode 2

 "Death gives no refunds..."

Yes, I know, I don't usually blog the same programme on consecutive days, but this time I have, so nyeeer. Something different next time, though, I promise!

Another superb bit of telly here, and another superlative performance from David Tennant, adding further layers. Dennis Nilsen is still the paradoxical monster with principles from last episode, yet this time he's more sinister and controlling... indeed, a very controlling man, co-operating (or not) on his own terms. It was he who complained about his drains in the first place, wanting to be caught: he's been trying to curate the whole thing. And then the curveball at the end, as the trial begins and he unexpectedly tries to plead not guilty.

Yet at the same time he's... well, DI Peter Jay describes him to the press as "unassuming". And this is nevertheless a man who loves his dog. Brian Masters uncovers certain things about Nilsen's past for his book (a real book, which no doubt garnered many extra sales from this series), but quite rightly resists the urge to draw conclusions. And Masters' own motives eventually become clear: the definitive book on Nilsen's crimes must come from within the gay community in such deeply homophobic times.

The other cause of conflict here is Peter's desire to identify all fifteen victims and the reality that the police are a public service like any other and must justify their costs. With six victims identified... six murders will put Nilsen behind bars forever. It's the right decision, awful though it is, to end the investigation there. But, after they identify a seventh victim too late to prosecute, we see the human cost as Peter has to explain this to the devastated widow. This series refuses to glamorise the killer and puts the victims first, always.

If anything, this episode is even better than the first. Very impressive indeed.

Des: Episode 1

 "How didn't we know?"

The first thing to say about this dramatisation of the investigation into the appalling crimes of Dennis Nilsen is that David Tennant is utterly spellbinding as this calm, seemingly ordinary and unassuming, polite and even cultured man who committed fifteen violent murders. The character is, of course, fascinating- a disarmingly articulate, thoughtful monster, by no means without compassion for his victims ("This bloody government does nothing for them"), with an integrity of sorts and determined to assist the police in unearthing the truth as well as he can, even to the point of dismissing his solicitor. And yet... a monster.

Yet also at fault is the harsh, uncaring nature of London in the early 1980s. Far from its roads being paved with gold, it sucks in the young and vulnerable, exploits and abuses them... to the point where fifteen young men can disappear and not be missed.

Also interesting is DI Peter Jay (it annoys me that the programme has journalists address him as "detective" rather than "inspector", which didn't and doesn't happen in the UK, especially as the attention to detail seems very good), a very human copper whose wife won't let him see his kids seemingly for no good reason. And then there's Jason Watkins' interesting Brian Masters, who seems not only fascinated by this young serial killer but determined to understand him.

A promising start, then, very wisely showing everything from the point of view of the investigation. Yet the moment that lingers in the mind is one of deep humanity, as Stephen Sinclair's parents learn the unthinkable truth of what happened to their son. And that's this episode's big strength- that focus on humanity over sensationalism.

Life on Mars: Season 2, Episode 7

 "I appear to have killed a man..."

The penultimate episode; we're close to the end, and it's interesting to see where they're going. The character of Frank Morgan- Gene's hopefully temporary replacement from "Hyde" with a name evoking The Wizard of Oz- is initially suspicious in his apparent desire to ruin hunt, but in the end he privately holds out to Sam the hope of getting "home". Ooh.

But all that metatextual telefantasy stuff is for the finale; this penultimate episode again focuses on a plotline that can only be done once: Gene Hunt being a suspect for murder. And it's very well done indeed, both as a whodunit and as an exploration of the bond between Sam and Gene. As Gene says, "Just be the picky pain in the arse you normally are and I should be fine." It's good to see the effects on Ray and Chris of the Guv being a suspect, but the whole will-they-won't-they romance between Sam and Annie has been strung along with so little consistency from episode to episode that their almost-kiss means very little.

It's all very clever, plot-wise, with twist and turns to keep you guessing, and a satisfying conclusion. There's surprisingly little of the usual '70s versus '00s culture clash stuff, but I suppose the premise doesn't really lend itself to that. Still, as we approach the end, I'm still of the view that Life on Mars succeeds more because of the great premise, the production and the performances, and that the scripts- while frequently good whodunits- are not really first rate stuff. But let's see how it all ends...

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 10- Cri de Coeur

 "War is our love..."

It's an interesting choice to end the season on such a downbeat note. This is a Margaret episode and a desperately unhappy one, yes, in which she makes a thankfully unsuccessful suicide attempt, yes, but everything seems to be falling apart. The country seems to be at rock bottom, leading the Queen to question exactly what it is she's supposed to have achieved as she faces her Silver Jubilee. It appears, perhaps, as though there's no future, and England's dreaming.

With a bit of sleight of hand this episode covers three and a bit years, from Harold Wilson becoming PM again in the wake of the February 1974 election to the Jubilee itself. There's a lovely little valedictory scene as Wilson resigns, calmly teling the Queen of his Alzheimers diagnosis which, after sixty years of public duty, it now poised to rob him of his retirement like the bastard it is. It's lovely to see how close they've become over the years, in that very British way, with him confessing he's always seen her as a "leftie at heart" and her accepting an invitation to dine at Downing Street, an honour only previously given to Churchill.

But, for Margaret, there is true despair. Her marriage is failing, but worse than that. Tony is humiliating her, again and again, with affair after affair while simultaneously managing to charm everyone- the Queen Mum, Philip, even the Queen who shows him obvious affection- into forgiving his little dalliances. Yet when Margaret has her own little fling with an obliging toy boy she faces tabloid humiliation and appalling double standards as her own affair- just the one, after years of being cuckqueaned- faces consequences very different from those faced by her husband. At least Tony is now faced with having to potentially marry his latest fling.

It’s a fascinating way to end a superb season. Roll on Season Four in a couple of days...

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 6- Tywysog Cymru

 "Fancy being the heir?"

"Not if it means going to Wales..."

This is yet another outstanding episode, our first to focus on Charles as a young man rather than a child- Josh O'Connor plays him with aplomb, safely negotiating a path between acting and impersonation. But the script (with James Graham co-writing) is magnificent.

It's horrifying to see Charles at 20, clearly having been denied much of a childhood, being denied a youth too. It's awful so see him trying to reach out to a room of fellow students in Aberystwyth but have the door slammed on him by youths with hair and clothes appropriate for students in 1969, while he stands there in his ever-present suit. He can never belong, and even his family (though his rapport with Anne is lovely) are very cold fishes, as we shall see.

For much of the episode it seems as though the theme is going to be Welsh nationalism, Certainly we, through Charles, learn much of the Welsh viewpoint and it's interesting to see Charles relationship evolve with his republican, nationalist tutor Edward Millward (not a very Welsh name!) from insulting ignorance to true mutual respect as he slips some sympathetic sentiments into his speech which, well, may not have actually been said in his real investiture as Prince of Wales, but are a nice bit of artistic licence.

But all this is undermined at the end, after the warm parting with Millward and his "You did well". The Queen finally receives a translation of the speech and immediately sees through it... his sentiment about Wales being ignored, not listened to, are all about himself. He's exploited the Welsh no less than many of his forebears. And we end with an argument about how a monarch can never be seen to express an opinion lest the whole edifice collapse. At the same time, this is an impossible thing to expect of someone. I 'm sure this theme will recur.

The solution, of course, if one is not a republican (and I, remember, am St Augustine's republican- "Lord, grant me a republic, but not yet"), is that it's only right to allow senior royals to decline the succession and retire into private life if they find this an overly onerous requirement. The gilded cage of royalty must carry the hope of parole. The lack of this sensible reform will, I suspect, lead to much further angst in future episodes...

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 5- Coup

 "I am protecting the Prime Minister. I am protecting the Constitution. I am protecting Democracy."

We have another fine episode here, again mixing excellent character stuff with thought-provoking constitutional issues. I suspect, due to the largely political subject matter, this episode won't be quite as popular as others this season, but to devote space to the supposed coup against Wilson is probably the right thing to do.

It is, of course, not necessarily a hard fact that any such coup was planned, despite decades of rumours. Sources (Hugh Cudlipp, the highly questionable Peter Wright) give some indication that Lord Mountbatten was approached, but it's not widely believed that things went any further. Dramatic licence aside, however, the events are well dramatised here, with Mountbatten's presentation to Cecil King and co on the practicalities of a coup are like something out of a Frederick Forsyth novel. Charles Dance, recast as a necessarily harder-edged Mountbatten, is outstanding as the charismatic old military leader looking for purpose in retirement. His speech to the Burma veterans, including the full recital of Kipling's "Road to Mandalay", is dripping with charisma. Mountbatten comes across as complex here, and not unsympathetic, quite an achievement,

Cecil King is odd, though. Proprietor of the Daily Mirror, friend of Hugh Cudlipp, yet fomenting a right-wing coup against a fairly standard Labour government?

Regardless, the Queen gives all this short shrift here. If she did, in reality, do this, she deserves much praise for doing the most important job of a modern constitutional monarch in defending democracy, for being Juan Carlos in 1981 rather than Vittorio Emmanuele in 1922. Interestingly, this episode contrasts this by showing the Queen spending weeks on end travelling to pursue her horse racing hobby, at the expense of her job. One can hardly begrudge her a holiday, however; Trump and his golf this ain't. And there's a superbly written moment between her and old friend Porchey as she discusses how she would have much preferred the life of a racing horse owner to that of a monarch. These few weeks are a poignant glimpse into the life she could have had, if her Uncle David hadn't forced her, and her reluctant monarch, into the life she now leads.

We end on a note of hope, as the duly chastened Mountbatten reconnects with his sister Princess Alice, reminding us of the complexities of the family trees of the royal houses of Europe. "We Battenbergs have no country" says the old and relaxed Alice to her patriotic brother, both scions of a universal monarchical class floating over the various nations of Europe which at some point borrowed some German princeling to be their king.

We alo have a nice scene with Elizabeth and Philip at the end. The personal stuff, the characterisation, is always perfectly written and performed, and seems to mesh seamlessly with the more phiosophical stuff. This is bloody good telly.

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 4- Bubbikins

 "Bubbikins...?"

 This is, again, a cleverly constructed episode, dealing with two seemingly separate- and thematically contrasting- threads, and drawing them together very neatly at the end. It's also the episode where Princess Anne appears for the first time as a more-or-less adult, and where I perhaps begin to warm a little to Tobias Menzies as Prince Philip. He's no Matt Smith though.

On the one hand, Prince Philip is whingeing about real terms cuts to the Civil List. He, husband to the richest woman in the world, may be forced to sell a palace or two or even give up polo. This is contrasted with his mother, Princess Alice, a humble nun in Athens, casually selling her priceless jewellery so she can continue her charity work. These themes interwtwine throughout. Philip tries to savage his public relations faux pas with a documentary on the royals so we can see how they're good value for money, and it goes so badly that the Queen orders it buried after a single broadcast. Meanwhile, the fascist coup of the colonels in Greece exiles Princess Alice to London... and Philip just avoids his mother, as an embarrassment and, worse, a mother who abandoned him.

The threads are drawn together where it is the publicity from Princess Alice, and her hard life of suffering and service, that gives the royals some positive publicity- and leads Philip finally to reconnect with his mother before it is too late.

Most importantly, perhaps, we are shown that Philip's mother didn't abandon him out of callousness, but of genuine and serious mental health issues, for which she suffered barbaric tortures and, just as bad, Freudian psychiatry. Mental health is an issue that can affect us all, eincluding royalty.

This doesn't, of course, stand comparison with its exceptional predecessor, but shows nevertheless the high watermark of this series. Good stuff.

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 3- Aberfan

 "Put on a show? The Crown doesn't do that?"

This is, it's fair to say, not at all a typical episode. It is also, I suspect, the one with the least dialogue. The Aberfan tragedy in all its visceral yet man-made horror is made fully manifest to us, from the early scenes of ordinary family life in this South Wales pit village, as the slag hill looms threateningly above, to the scenes of the devastation and its human cost that makes up much of the episode. We see, and hear, the reactions of Lord Snowdon, Prince Philip and finally the Queen, but the unspeakable horror is there for us to see- although, as a father, I found Tony's reaction the most quietly devastating. 

But this episode, as well as being entirely about the tragedy and respectfully allowing the people of Aberfan to take centre stage. Cynically, yet inevitably, there's the potential political fallout, as Harold Wilson swiftly sees. Safety standards were blatantly failed, and had been for years. So was this the fault of the current Labour ministry or the previos Conservative one? The political blame game is as inevitable as it is tasteless. Marcia Williams (I suspect we shall see more of her) is all for sticking it to the Tories, and the Queen too if there's political advantage in doing so. Yet, while this can be seen as cynicism, it is born of a passionate belief in the Labour "movement" and its ability to do good.

And then there's Elizabeth, who spends a week refusing increasingly strong entreaties to visit, insisting that is not the role of the Crown. She is only shamed into doing so by the danger of forces within Labour attacking her seeming heartlessness in public- and has to pretend to wipe away a non-existent tear.

Her concluding scene with Wilson- supposedly the prime minister whom, in reality, the Queen had the best rapport- is superb, as the admits her inability to cry, and her undemonstrative nature. It is, rightly, left unsaid (as it would be in 1966) whether we are supposed to see her as being on the neurodiversity spectrum but, as it is a spectrum, aren't we all? And Wilson's response is brilliant: we need calmness from a head of state, not hysteria. And we all have parts to play, not least the privileged, cigar smoking former Oxford don playing the part of a man of the people.

This is genuinely sublime, and on quite another level. Jason Watkins is excellent but Olivia Colman is truly incredible.

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 2- Margaretology

 "There was a young lady from Dallas, who used a dynamite stick as a phallus. They found her vagina in North Carolina, and her arsehole in Buckingham Palace."

It’s surprising, I suppose, that The Crown has focused so relatively heavily on Margaret. And yet it can’t be denied that they keep finding new and interesting angles to take on Bertie’s second born. This episode manages to be fascinating as a study not only of Margaret but of the contrast and rivalry between the two sisters.

Importantly, the episode begins and ends with a coda, a flashback in 1943, where Tommy Lascelles starts to prepare young Elizabeth for a role for which the more outgoing Margaret would seem to be more suited. Yet Elizabeth is very firmly told, in spite of the fact that both sisters are happy for Margaret to be queen, that that’s not how it works.

In the present day, we are introduced to a fun little turn from an excellent Clancy Brown, who may not resemble LBJ but manages to be damned convincing as the old Texan arm-twister. And the whole episode centres on the UK being in the desperate position of needing an economic ball out from the USA-but we are not LBJ’s favourite country because Wilson won’t touch Vietnam, quite rightly, with a bargepole.

Enter Margaret, to save the day with charm, emotional intelligence, bawdiness and limericks. Helena Bonham Carter is superb here, as Margaret achieves things the Queen could never achieve, in an episode constantly seething with sibling rivalry.

We also see the cracks in Margaret’s marriage getting deeper, and Elizabeth getting fonder of Wilson. But it all ends, nicely, with Philip channelling a theory of Lascelles from when they got drunk together last season- there are the dull Windsor’s and the dazzling ones, and they always come in pairs. For every Bertie there’s a David, for every Elizabeth, a Margaret.

It’s a masterfully crafted and paced piece of telly. I’m not sure it’s particularly deep but the craftsmanship is superb.

The Crown: Season 3, Episode 1- Olding

 “What you see is what you get..."

A new season and... well, let’s face the elephant in the room, a new cast. I like the opening, introducing us to Olivia Colman’s new Queen and I must admit, although Claire Foy was magnificent, that she’s won me over. Helena Bonham Carter is superb as Margaret, of course. But Tobias Menzies, as a suddenly charisma-free Prince Philip, is certainly no Matt Smith, and on the face of this episode the character is set to become a lot less nuanced.

Fortunately we have a nicely nuanced performance from Jason Watkins as the deceptively straightforward Harold Wilson, alongside a superb turn from Samuel West as the vile traitor Anthony Blunt. And through the episode runs a lice line of misdirection. It’s out with the old, as the Tories are out and Elizabeth faces the first Labour Government of her reign just as the much-missed Winston Churchill (still the wonderful John Lithgow) is dying... and we hear constant rumours that Wilson is a Soviet spy until we discover the true culprit, who ends the episode threatening to blackmail Philip. I loved the Queen’s double-edged speech with Blunt, who seems to go unpunished.

And yet... this episode doesn’t have the depths of earlier seasons, in spite of its clever conceit. Perhaps it’s just the need to introduce a new status quo and a new cast. I hope so. Let’s hope that turns out to be the case.

A Very English Scandal: Episode 2

"She's the love of my life."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Another utterly compelling hour of telly, then, as things move towards their inexorable conclusion. Russell T. Davies, Stephen Frears and an utterly revelatory Hugh Grant are all spellbinding in this artfully crafted bit of telly, and we get to see along the way just how much human devastation is left behind by self-centred posh boy Jeremy Thorpe. And this from a series that has yet to even mention his probable cover-up of the vile Cyril Smith. And yet, as the opening scene reminds me, Thorpe was very much the sort of man of whose politics I tend to approve. I would have voted Liberal back then. Yet progressive politics do not necessarily stop one from being a complete and utter bastard.

Thorpe's desire to see Norman Scott is thrust in our face from the beginning, but we are allowed, at first, to wonder whether it all might perhaps be a joke; Grant plays this ambiguity well. Yet Ben Whishaw is equally excellent in what is, perhaps even more so than the first episode, a double character study heavily reliant on the abundant skills of both actors. Whishaw truly captures both Scott’s odd innocence and his quietly dignified insistence in a homophobic world (the wedding speech is deliberately both funny and undercutting that with horror at the sheer bigotry, very RTD) that his relationship with Thorpe was real and deserving of recognition, whatever the tragedies that befall him, from his abandonment by his wife (and the taking away of his child, the worst thing that can happen to anyone) to the tragic suicide of poor Gwen- why isn’t the fantastic Eve Myles on telly more often?

Much of the episode sees the possibility of scandal slowly simmering, with an attempt to raise the temperature by Emlyn Hooson here (Jason Watkins is bloody good) and a quiet word to the police by Reginald Maudling there. But there is real pathos as Thorpe genuinely mourns the sudden death of his first wife, and shares real affection with his second. Thorpe may be gay, and closeted, but the women in his life are more than just beards. People are complicated.

The whole business of the 1974 election is handled with admirable economy of storytelling, and then the final stretch running up to the attempted assassination is rightly played as the comedy of errors that it seemingly was, with a delightful appearance from Betty Spencer herself, looking perhaps just a little different. The whole thing is a gripping piece of telly, with script, direction and acting all first class. Er, but I have to say that’s an interesting choice of actor to play John Le Mesurier...

A Very English Scandal: Episode 1

"You've infected me, Jeremy, with the virus of homosexuality."

There's something about Jeremy Thorpe that fascinates more than any politician. Perhaps I, as a fairly core Liberal Democrat voter, find him more interesting than those who forget the party exists, but he's the dark heart of liberalism, much as his views and political principles were admirable. Superficial, showy, and worst of all covering up the evils committed by the loathsome Cyril Smith, he is hard to like for one so charismatic.

His story is also an interesting choice for Russell T. Davies. Oh, I know there's the obvious gay theme, but nevertheless RTD isn't usually one for politics dramas directed by Stephen Frears. It can't be denied, though; this first part looks as though he's been writing this stuff for years.This is, let's be clear, a bloody good piece of telly.

It's unusual for RTD in, perhaps, another sense; while the characters are naturally sketched superbly, there's more of an emphasis on plot and theme than would be expected. equally unexpected, though, is a stellar performance from Hugh Grant, full of nuance and far from the romantic comedies for which he is mainly known.

The tale is told through flashback, great dialogue as we would expect, and masterful characterisation. Ben Whishaw is superb as Norman Scott, and the ubiquitous Alex Jennings is well cast as Peter Bessell. Thorpe is an ambiguous character, no hypocrite in supporting the legalisation of homosexuality, but ambitious enough to seek a beard for a wife. And yet, should we condemn him when, this being the '60s, shocking levels of homophobia make it a necessary step to succeed in politics, unless you're a Tory yachtsman from Kent?

The inclusion of Leo Abse and the scenes around the legalisation of homosexuality are rightfully included as necessary context. The attitudes displayed even by those in support beggar belief, and show just how far the Overton window has shifted.

We've missed RTD ever since Cucumber; I'm glad his husband is in better health and am glad he's back. Roll on next episode.

Henry VI, Part 1 (Dominic Cooke, 2016)

"A day will come when York shall claim his own..."

It's been four years, but the BBC have finally got around to doing Shakespeare's Wars of the Roses plays under their The Hollow Crown imprint. Strictly speaking this isn't Henry VI, Part 1: we end the much-truncated production about halfway through Part 2. But it's a welcome attempt at some rarely-filmed plays and the cast, including those listed below, includes Philip Glenister, David Troughton and Michael Gambon.

Like its Hollow Crown predecessors, this is a straightforward retelling with 15th century costume and no directorial flourishes. That means it's all reliant on the acting, and the acting is superb. This is a play from a very young Shakespeare- one of his early hits- and isn't well known, also being somewhat lacking in famous lines, much as Shakespeare's dialogue is never less than sublime, even in his youth. There aren't, as far as I'm aware, any film versions to compare this to, so in spite of being good rather than great it's sort of the best by default.

We begin with huge vistas of Dover's white cliffs; this tries to be as visual as possible, in the Hollow Crown house style. But it's all about the performances. I haven't seen this play before, truncated or not, but I much enjoyed it, raising perhaps an eyebrow at just how wet the King is, how women are just chattels in this world, the very derogatory portrayal of Joan of Arc, but most of all, as ever with Shakespeare, getting drunk in the language.

The production is merely good; the play (or play and a half) is sublime.

Doctor Who: Nightmare in Silver

“I hate the future. It’s stupid”.

Right. Let’s get the cards on the table at the start. Neil Gaiman is god, and this is the best episode since, well, The Doctor’s Wife My expectations were huge, but I was not disappointed.

Ok, there were a couple of minor niggles with the production, not least of which was a bit of dodgy CGI. But the script was faultless. We will come to the Cybermen shortly, as this is the best Cyberman story ever, but there are so many other things to love about this story. It simply overruns with ideas and imagination and reminds me of the splendid DWM comic strips of 1980’s, which, considering Gaiman’s background, is appropriate. I also love the fact that, years after The Girl in the Fireplace, Doctor Who finally gets what must be an allusion to the Mechanical Turk, as we first see a Cyberman playing chess and then discover that Porridge (Warwick Davis) is inside.

This episode reeks wonderfully of a wider world, or should I say universe, ruled by an emperor and replete with little cultural trappings of the Roman Empire at its classical height. Also genius is the very concept of an abandoned amusement park in the dark. But this is recognisably Doctor Who: Neil Gaiman is enough of a fanboy to use the word “transmat” for teleporter and, well, he knows his Troughton.

Quite sensibly, in giving us the greatest Cyberman story ever, Gaiman refers to all the best Cybermen stories, all of which were Troughton stories. We see Cybermen emerging from their tombs and even a mock-up of a base on the moon. These new Cybermen look epic, with their blankly emotionless faces returning to the simplicity of the Wheel in Space design. These are genuinely scary Cybermen, who can instantly upgrade to overcome any difficulty. Massed CGI ranks of Cybermen may not look convincing, but individually these Cybermen are the best. I suspect, too, that these are the first real Cybermen we have seen since Silver Nemesis in 1988, proper Cybermen from our world and not that alternate reality that RTD gave us. Cybermats are upgraded to Cybermites, for the first time since The invasion we have a Cyberplanner, and there may even be a reference to Big Finish audio drama Spare Parts in the scenes where the Cyberman attempts to convert the Doctor.

Gaiman makes a number of wise decisions. In the partly Cybernised Webley, he gives the Cybermen a spokesman who is not actually boring to listen to. The scenes with the conflicted Doctor are superb, and allow Matt Smith to play a baddie. I feel I owe him an apology: I just don’t praise his superlative acting often enough. I also love the use of chess as a metaphor for the fight over the Doctor’s brain, and the way that this plays out throughout the episode. I’m reminded of The Seventh Seal.

So, basically, this is great, and Neil Gaiman should be forced to write as much Doctor Who as possible. There is also arc stuff going on, mind you. Angie and Artie, whom Clara is looking after, get their first and, I suspect, not last outing in the TARDIS. And it is established that the Doctor drops Clara off after each adventure and picks her up on Wednesdays. Under Moffat, being the Doctor’s companion is still a part time job. See you next week for the season finale.