Scott Matthewman » Doctor Who

Destiny, Death, Delirium and Despair: Drabbles a decade on

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 19:12:05 +0000

The beauty of using my blog to keep track of stuff I’ve written elsewhere is that it allows, when time permits, to reflect on the writer I used to be. As I’ve been explaining on Twitter, I usually think that what I wrote in the past is better than what I write now, whether it’s ten years old or ten days.

Perusing some of the neglected categories in my blog (of which there are many - if you’re reading this on the page rather than in a feed reader, the full list is at the bottom right as you scroll down) I came to realise that three very short pieces of fiction are almost exactly a decade old.

They are drabbles - short stories of exactly 100 words in length. These particular ones are ‘fan fiction’ (or fanfic for short), unlicensed exploration of other people’s fictional creations. As you scour the internet, you discover that much fanfic is unremittingly awful - but some is not. And from that minority, an even smaller proportion has spawned writers who have gone on to write professionally for the same characters (yes, this is a hint to buy The Ghosts of Christmas while stocks last. I still savour that review in DWM, even if my story was summed up in three words, one of which was “and”).

In this case, the subject was Doctor Who crossing over with the Endless family from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comic books.

Reading them again, they do hold up quite well - although of the three, one relies on a punchline that no longer packs the punch it once did and one just has me a feeling a bit meh. The third, though, includes possibly my favourite sentence in Doctor Who ever. That sounds like egotism, and it may be, but it feels like the line was written by somebody else. Which, I suppose, it was (I hope he won’t mind if I nick it, should the possibility of ever using it again arise).

Anyway, the three drabbles - to be read in no particular order - are:

If you have no idea who Neil Gaiman’s Endless characters are, a guick google should set you aright. And if you’re a fan of great storytelling, remind me to lend you The Sandman novels some time (or buy your own)…

This is the end, but was the moment prepared for?

Scott Matthewman — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 16:16:17 +0000

A couple of weeks ago, in the regular list of notable radio programmes I prepare each week, I plugged Radio 2’s relay of a recent live performance of Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds. That mention spurred me to listen once more to the album. This prog rock opera contains some of the most well-known riffs and melodies, but what really makes it is Richard Burton’s narration — and even more so, HG Wells’ original story.

It’s not for nothing that the original novel has become known as one of the greatest in the history of science fiction literature. It has a real sense of terror occurring in the most mundane of places — Martians landing in Woking, of all places. And while the anonymous journalist who is our narrator makes his way to a similarly ravaged London, it’s the effect on individuals that still resonate.

The ending, though? The ending sucks.

(Despite the novel being over 100 years old, I should warn you now — there be spoilers ahead…)

Devoid of all hope, the journalist heads for the Martians, to sacrifice himself because there is now nothing left to live for. Humanity is being routed, and he effectively chooses suicide rather than waiting for exterminaton to come to him.

And the machines start to die. Exposed to Earth’s bacteria to which they have no resistance, the invaders suddenly grind to a halt, and the Earth is saved.

And that’s it. The ‘defeat’ of the invading Martian hordes bears no relation to anything that has preceded it in the novel. I’d always found it deeply unsatisfying in book form, and listening to Burton’s narration in the Jeff Wayne version just reminded me how annoying that abruptness is. It’s one of the best examples of a deus ex machina plot device in science fiction.

The use of deus ex machina devices is a criticism often levied by fans against Doctor Who’s outgoing head writer Russell T Davies. It’s a charge which, with the possible exception of Series 1’s Boom Town, he has always resisted, as far as I know. And if you compare his stories against Wells’s invasion story, you can see that Russell’s right.

That’s not to say his endings are perfect. As I said in my write-up of Doctor Who Series 2’s first episode, New Earth:

In both [New Earth and The End of the World] it’s as if the production team are saying to us, “forget the sci-fi, it’s not important; look at the character work, that’s the real story”. And they’re right, in a way. In both cases, the subplots that benefit from the extra screen time (the fate of the Doctor’s people, the redemption of Cassandra) involve superb writing and acting from both leads and guests. But the rushed endings leave the whole episodes with the impression that they’re missing something.

I pretty much stand by that. As faults go, though, “so much going on that one has to concentrate on character rather than ‘plot’” isn’t a bad one to have. And no matter how many times I rewatch them, or how may times I reread War of the Worlds, I will always prefer Davies’ endings to Wells’.

Russell T Davies and Euros Lyn talk Doctor Who and Torchwood

Scott Matthewman — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 16:34:31 +0000

Cross-posted to TV Today

Over on US TV blog Televisionary, Jace has been interviewing Torchwood and Doctor Who writer/producer Russell T. Davies and director Euros Lyn. After all the Comic-Con madness and the ‘Save Ianto’ hubbub, it’s nice to hear them talk about more general matters regarding both series — and for Euros to get some attention: both Russell and John Barrowman have such large personalities that he was on the verge of being ignored at some recent press events.

The video that Jace shot is embedded below, in two parts (if you’re using an RSS reader, you may need to click through to the blog to see it). The sound level’s a little low, but it’s well worth watching.

(NB: contains some spoilers for future Doctor Who episodes)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkIDKw8CDe0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-6sQEuSwzw

The tryanny of the canon

Scott Matthewman — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 08:13:22 +0000

Via Stuart, I’ve spent the last half hour reading a long and eloquent piece about the concept of show ‘canonicity’, with special attention to the concept around a show like Doctor Who:

We’ve moved from a canon which didn’t exist because nobody got round to establishing one, to a canon which doesn’t exist because the only person who could establish one himself rejects both the idea and the very logic of writerly authority on which it stands.

While this is going on, the TV series itself is making direct and explict reference to events, concepts, continuity points, planets, companies and foodstuffs from the novels and comics while establishing that Time is in flux (The Unquiet Dead) and that stable facts aren’t meant to exist (Utopia). Which means that if there was a Doctor Who canon (and assuming the Welsh Series was part of it) then it would paradoxically include the fact that there was no Doctor Who canon.

With quotes not only from Russell T Davies but new showrunner Steven Moffat, TV episode writer Paul Cornell and tie-in novel authors Paul Magrs and Lance Parkin, it’s a powerful argument against the type of rigid thinking that has no place, not only in the Doctor Who universe, but in fiction in general.

Teatime Brutality: Canon and Sheep Shit: Why We Fight

Torchwood, Ianto and fandom’s big heart

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 21:42:17 +0000

Spoiler warning: Don’t read further if you have not yet seen episode 4 of Torchwood: Children of Earth. Of course, if you want to watch it, chances are you already have, but still…

Fans of any persuasion can be an odd bunch. I know, I am that person. There are so many huge benefits to be had from bonding with other people over your love of something, whether it’s football (a passion I must admit I don’t share) or Doctor Who (which I do).

I get it. And I’ve come into contact with the best of fandom in recent years. From reviewing the BBC’s Any Dream Will Do every week, I came into contact with many subgroups: fans of Daniel Boys (his ‘kittens’), who took my good-natured comments about them being “quite mad” in the spirit it was intended. And of course there are the Loppies — fans of that series’ eventual winner, Lee Mead, who started talking to each other in the comments section of our blog and have stayed with us ever since.

There are negative associations, of course. If you incur the wrath of the hardcore supporter, then you know about it sharpish. On TV Today we’ve been on the receiving end from fans of Rupert Grint and Jonas Armstrong. In neither case were the attacks particularly justified, but there comes a point where, to the hardcore fans, that hardly matters.

Something similar happened over the last few weeks, following Torchwood: Children of Earth’s fourth episode, in which regular character Ianto Jones (Gareth David-Lloyd) came to a sticky end. A lot of anger was directed at Torchwood writer James Moran, on his blog and on Twitter, not because he wrote the episode (he didn’t) but because he had an open door policy with his web communications.

Thankfully, that particular method of attacking individuals died down pretty quickly, although it has led to James taking a step back from his blog — and please read that link, it expresses his feelings and reasons far better than I could.

But the hardcore Ianto fans are not giving up. They have set up a website, SaveIantoJones.com, in order to coordinate various forms of peaceful, polite protest.

And one way they’ve decided to show their support for their favourite character is unusual — by raising money for the BBC’s resident charity, Children in Need. As I write, the total they have raised to date is just under £3,000. And that’s an impressive amount of money whatever the reason for its collection.

Again, it shows that within fandom, there is the potential for much goodness. Although I do believe that the organisers are mistaken when they say:

While the BBC have remained polite and well-mannered, in response to a very peaceful campaign, Mr. Davies has made it clear in recent interviews that he views his fans with contempt, and as disposable, which saddens us.

I don’t think anybody could be more wrong; I truly believe Russell gets it. Watch Love & Monsters, part of Series 2 of Doctor Who written by Russell T Davies, and you’ll see a group called L.I.N.D.A., a group of people who start meeting for one reason and gradually become people who meet up because they are friends. It’s one of the most perfect representations of fandom you’re ever likely to see. And anybody who writes like that really, truly, does not consider fans to be worthy of contempt. That doesn’t mean that fans are bigger than the subject of their support, though.

The SaveIantoJones fans are doing some great work and their fundraising efforts will do enormous good — even though their ultimate aim, of bringing a dead fictional character back to life, is doomed to fail. If their work brings them together as friends too, then that will be a further upside.

Paul Kasey: The man in the steel mask

Scott Matthewman — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 12:05:12 +0000

Originally published in The Stage

Costume actor Paul Kasey has played a variety of monsters on Doctor Who, from Autons to Ood. As he prepares to play the Cyberleader in this year’s Christmas special, he tells Scott Matthewman how he got the job

“I do get asked by children if I can go and put my Cyberman suite on. I’ve been asked by a couple as well, which caught me completely off guard. People think I’ve got them all hanging in my bedroom.”

He’s been one of the more regular cast members on Doctor Who since it returned to the screens in 2005, but unless you were a keen-eyed viewer of documentary series Doctor Who Confidential, the chances are that you wouldn’t recognise him. Paul Kasey is one of several actors who regularly play monsters in the series, and this Christmas is performing in a number of roles as a variety of Cybermen in the Christmas Day episode, The Next Doctor.

“I can’t wait to see it,” he says. “This time as well as the Cybermen, there are Cybershades, the Cyberleader and then there’s the Cyber controller. And I’ve been all of them.”

While this episode is set during a snow-laden Victorian Christmas, it was actually shot during the summer - but the costumes were not too uncomfortable, he says. “A lot of the time we were filming outside, and you tend to be the one that’s nice and cosy, while everyone else is putting jackets on and trying to keep warm. On interiors though, depending on how small the room or the set is, with all the lights and the people and everything, then it can become quite warm. But we drink lots of water, and when they’re setting up all the different shots we get plenty of breaks.”

Although he’s been playing monsters in Doctor Who for a number of years, his start in the profession was by no means out of the ordinary. “I originally trained at Laine Theatre Arts in Surrey, starting there in 1990 on a three year course, although I got awarded a scholarship so I did a fourth year. I trained in every aspect of dance, musical theatre, acting and singing.

“I was quite lucky, because at the time they allowed you to work as well as train, so I was working from my second year onwards. I did pantomime and summer seasons, but I also did trade shows with Kim Gavin, who at the time was choreographing Take That. He would come down to Laine’s and get students to do some of his fashion and trade shows as well.”

The work continued after he left college, at which point he also started auditioning for musicals. A two-year spell in Grease at the Dominion Theatre followed, and in 2000 he performed in Fosse in the West End for a year. “Fosse was just going on a world tour, which I wanted to do and never, ever wanted to leave it. But just coming up towards finishing that initial run, I auditioned for a role in the film Blade II, although I didn’t hear anything for a while. There was about a 15 week gap before Fosse went on tour, and I auditioned for and got a job on a cruise ship for 12 weeks, which would have fit in that gap perfectly. The contract for that was in the post, and then I had a phone call from the Blade II production company saying they’d like to offer me one of the parts.”

The role in the Wesley Snipes-led vampire sequel was of a Reaper, and would signal the start of a career in prosthetics work for Kasey. He followed it up with a role in British horror film 28 Days Later, in which he played an infected human. “I sort of went back to dancing after that, but at this point it was more sort of doing the odd choreographic work and lecturing as well.

“And then I auditioned for Doctor Who. They were looking for five main creature role people who had a background in prosthetics and costume work. And when they offered me the job, I really couldn’t say no to it, because it’s become something I’ve absolutely loved since getting my first taste of it on Blade II.”

Since featuring in the first episode of the revival as an Auton, a shop window dummy that comes to life, Kasey has worked on all four series of Doctor Who as well as spin-offs Torchwood and The Sarah Jane Adventures. When it comes to developing a style of movement for each new species, the approach can vary slightly. “On Doctor Who, we have a choreographer called Ailsa Berk, and she deals with the movement of all the monsters and creatures like the Cybermen and the Ood. She gets the script and works out what’s needed with the director, then she rehearses with us. With something like Torchwood’s Weevil, I was just asked to do it. So I had to read the script and the breakdown of the creature itself, and while on set work with the director.

“But also, when I have the fittings at [costume creators] Millennium FX, you get a good sort of idea of how you want a creature to move in your own mind’s eye. And obviously, as time progresses, you can tweak it as you go along. Having the background in dance and movement is a great asset, just to have that knowledge and that physical awareness of how creatures move.”

The costumes Kasey has been given to wear all vary substantially, he says. “Some of them may have an animatronic head, you might have gloves, or they can be a full suit like the Cybermen. They’re all challenging in their own way. There are never two monsters which are exactly the same. They are comfortable - very comfortable - and any potential problems get sorted out at fittings prior to filming.

“You do have to be careful though, especially with costumes like the Slitheen or the Cybermen. In the suits we’re quite big, so you have to look after the suits, making sure you sit down carefully. When we’re up on set, a team from Millennium FX is there looking after everyone and making sure everyone’s okay. I do get very well looked after.”

Maybe it’s just as well that he has a team around him, as other people tend to shy away from the characters he plays. “What can tend to happen, and often does, is that you’ll go up on set and people can back away and not really want to speak to you. Even though they know someone’s inside, or they know who’s inside, on the outside we look completely different and they react to that. They’re not intentionally trying to alienate you, you know, but it can tend to happen.

“When I did 28 Days Later, and the sequel 28 Weeks Later [in which he also acted as a movement adviser], at lunch people wouldn’t sit with you. But when you’re covered in blood and look that gruesome, that’s completely understandable. So the only people that would tend to sit and talk to you are the people who have made the prosthetics, or the make-up artists who have made you up, because they’re quite used to it.”

Being encased in a costume also brings a degree of anonymity. “When I was the Weevil in Torchwood and we first started filming, I’d be there with my head on, which had to be glued down and all painted in. So none of the cast members had actually seen me and didn’t really know what I looked like. What tends to happen is that you go in the dinner queue and no-one really knows who you are, which is quite funny.” A positive aspect to the anonymity is the prospect of repeat work on Doctor Who. “Once you’ve been seen, and possibly killed, on Doctor Who, then you can’t really come back. If something was to come along and someone was to say, ‘We’d like you to play this part,’ and it wasn’t a creature, then I’d be all up for it. But it’s not like I’m desperate to get out and be me, if you see what I mean. I’m definitely in my element and loving it. It’s great fun.”

Outside of the Doctor Who stable, Kasey can also be seen (albeit in costume again) as a Minotaur in the current film Inkheart, starring Brendan Fraser and Helen Mirren. 2009 will see him perform in BBC3’s supernatural drama Being Human, but he remains tight-lipped about his precise role. “I’m playing a creature, a very good one,” is all he can say at the moment.

While a full series of Doctor Who is not on the cards for transmission in 2009, a number of specials are due to be filmed before production starts on the fifth series later in the year. For Kasey, “Doctor Who starts up again just after Christmas. I’ve been asked to do the first recording block, which starts in January. There are three or four specials being filmed and then they go straight into the fifth series, so there’s not much of a rest for me.”

Along with the rest of the country, it seems, Kasey has also been caught up in the speculation about which actor will succeed David Tennant in the role. “I get asked all the time who it’s going to be, and I don’t know. Christopher Eccleston and David Tennant are completely different as actors, and in terms of how they bring the Doctor alive, but each is as fantastic as the other, really. I’m sure whoever comes in to play the Doctor after David will bring something as exciting and special as David and Christopher have.

“But it’s very exciting, isn’t it? And it’s making the news as well, which just goes to prove how big Doctor Who is. It came back, and just exploded! I know I’m part of it and everything but Saturday nights just aren’t the same now without watching a series of Doctor Who. It’s become such a big part of people’s lives and what they watch. Each episode in so completely special in its own way, and just as exciting as the last.”

The Ghosts of Christmas

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 09:46:01 +0000

As I said back in October, my short story, Tell Me You Love Me is going to be included in the forthcoming anthology, Doctor Who Short Trips: The Ghosts of Christmas.

The Big Finish page for the book now includes an image, as well as a free PDF of one story from the collection — Faithful Friends, Part 1, by the book’s editors, Cavan Scott and Mark Wright.

It’s sad, though: my story features William Hartnell’s Doctor and the original TARDIS crew. Characters that were created at least in part by, and wouldn’t be remembered today without the inimitable talents of, the late Verity Lambert, who died on Thursday.

Thank you, Verity, for creating such a remarkable series, and for letting the likes of me play in the sandbox from time to time.

Why write?

Scott Matthewman — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 06:33:15 +0000

It may be a tough question to answer, but I love Neil Gaiman’s attempt:

The best thing about writing fiction is that moment where the story catches fire and comes to life on the page, and suddenly it all makes sense and you know what it’s about and why you’re doing it and what these people are saying and doing, and you get to feel like both the creator and the audience. Everything is suddenly both obvious and surprising (“but of course that’s why he was doing that, and that means that…”) and it’s magic and wonderful and strange.

I wouldn’t dare try and compare myself to Gaiman — I doubt I’ll ever achieve anything like one thousandth of his talents. I’m really looking forward to Stardust, my excitement only being tempered by the thought that the film can’t possibly compare to the novel (what film ever does?). That said, I do know what he means. Tell Me You Love Me will be my first published fiction work and a short story, but there were times writing it where I just got swept up and everything came out at speed. It’s happened before with the fanfic short stories I’ve written before; the pleasure increases slightly when you know you’re being paid for it, though.

Looking back at the proof PDF which I was sent last week, those points in the story still stand out as the best bits for me. It’s the portions where I had to include exposition, to write and rewrite and rewrite again to make sure that there was sufficient explanation, that stutter and falter. In contrast, I really love the opening few pages, which are largely unchanged from the very first draft. And reading it back, months now after I first wrote them, I can really detect the influence of Gaiman’s writing style upon my own. Hopefully, as I carry on writing that will develop into my own writing style, rather than an inferior copy of somebody else’s.

I was so scared, too, that as a first time writer, my work would stick out from that of the experienced writers with whom I’m contributing to The Ghosts of Christmas. But I’ve read the whole draft of the book several times now, and am beginning to feel less like the fraud I thought I may be when I was first offered the commission.

Next up, I have to decide if I’m going to have time to devote to NaNoWriMo this year. Other pressures last year meant that I just had no spare time to devote to writing, and I’m hoping that I can spend November 2007 writing 50,000 words of a first draft.

Coming soon: The Ghosts of Christmas

Scott Matthewman — Tue, 02 Oct 2007 11:08:07 +0000

I’ve mentioned bits and pieces about getting a short story published, without going into further detail. Now, though, my publisher has announced full details, so I can officially go public. My story, Tell Me You Love Me, is going to be published in Big Finish’s forthcoming short story anthology, Short Trips: The Ghosts of Christmas.

I’ve been so excited about this, ever since Cavan and Mark first asked me to pitch. From that point on, really, I’ve had to keep pinching myself to believe that it was actually happening.

Thanks to Mark and Cavan, who gave me some great notes back from my early drafts, I’m really quite happy with the way the story has come out. Since handing it over and getting the final draft signed off, I’ve looked back at it and wondered if I could have done various bits better (I’m sure the answer will be ‘yes’ on all fronts). I suspect, though, that I’d never be completely happy with it.

The Ghosts of Christmas will be published in December.

A 100-word biography

Scott Matthewman — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 21:42:58 +0000

As I mention on my About page, I’ve recently been lucky enough to have received a commission for my first professional piece of fiction — a short story for an anthology based around a certain TV show.

The story itself has been approved, is currently being typeset and the (small but historic) cheque has long since been cashed. The book itself will be out in a few months, but today, my editor emailed me asking for a 100 word biography for the frontispiece.

Initially, I couldn’t really think of what to include. My name, of course. Great. Only 98 words to go. Beyond that, though, what? It’s not like I can do what many other writers do, and wax lyrical about their wife, three kids (mention them all by name, it all adds to the word count) and sounds-palatial-but-I’m-a-writer-so-it’s-rather-more-squalid-than-that house somewhere in the Home Counties. And as this will be my first fiction work, I can’t list any previous achievements in that field.

So I figured the best thing to do is to concentrate on what writing achievements I have made (establish my credentials), make a passing reference to the subject matter at hand (signifying that I do, in fact, know what I’m talking about) and end on a joke (so that it’s not completely dull).

So this is what I came up with:

Scott Matthewman is Assistant Editor of The Stage, the British newspaper covering all aspects of the performing arts. In 2004, his website covering gay issues was named Best Political Weblog by The Guardian, and he now contributes on a regular basis to TV Today, The Stage’s blog about British television. He specialises in coverage of Saturday night entertainment, even when it doesn’t involve a time-travelling police box — although he remains convinced that musical theatre reality shows are part of a devious plan for world domination by aliens with jazz hands.

Tell Me You Love Me is Scott’s first published fiction.

Fingers crossed that’ll do.

Moths Ate My Mitch Benn

Scott Matthewman — Thu, 16 Aug 2007 19:14:12 +0000

If you’re in Edinburgh this weekend — which, sadly, I’m not — and are in any way shape or form into Doctor Who — which, happily, I am — then make sure you go along to a one-off charity event in aid of ACCORD, the hospice where David Tennant’s mother worked and, recently, passed away.

Comedians appearing at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe are staging a special one-off Dr Who-themed comedy show as part of the David-Tennant.com fundraiser, which intends to raise money for the ACCORD hospice in Paisley, Scotland.

The comedians taking part were moved by the response from Dr Who fans to the recent death of the actor’s mother Helen from cancer.

The gig will take place at Laughing Horse@Linsays (Fringe Venue 56) on Saturday 18th August 9.10 - 10.10pm. Although the show is not ticketed, and is not part of the official Fringe programme, those attending will be asked to donate £10, with all proceeds going to the ACCORD hospice appeal.

Venue details: Laughing Horse@Linsays, 15 Brunswick Street, Edinburgh, EH7 5JB Box Office & Enquiries: 0131 556 8974

Full details can be found here.

Those taking part will include Toby Hadoke, the genius behind Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf, and Mitch Benn, star of (among others) Radio 4’s The Now Show.

Of course, you’ll all know of this already, thanks to its plug on Show 12 of The Stage/TPN Fringe podcast. You have been listening, haven’t you? If not, subscribe now in iTunes. As I type this, we’re at no. 11 in the Arts chart and with a few more subscribers we could well go Top Ten!

Oh, and if you haven’t been lucky enough to catch Toby live, here’s a taster of his live set:

Requiem for a Songbird

Scott Matthewman — Tue, 14 Aug 2007 17:44:04 +0000

It was the hardest entrance he’d ever have to do. Walking into the room, confronted by people who were there to celebrate his wife’s death. How could he face them?

Gilbert looked at their faces, full of sympathy for him. No, not sympathy, pity. They were there out of courtesy, friends of the new nightclub owner. Mickey Hamilton. Word was he was the new gangster around these parts. Gilbert sighed — if it were any other day than today, he’d have squared up to him. Told him exactly how the drugs and the dirty money were changing places like this.

On any day but today. Today was different. He looked up at the bare stage. Just hours before, she’d been there. So unlike her, saying nothing — singing nothing. Just lying, face up, in a wooden casket as the few people he knew, and the masses he didn’t, said their respects before they headed to the cemetery. Those last couple of hours didn’t seem real, because it was here, in the Gaslight club, where he met, fell in love with — not just that, shared his life with — Lizzie, his wife.

She was Dilys Clitheroe when they first met. The stage name Elizabeth Nightingale had been her agent’s idea, she said. More classy for the jazz folks they got in the Gaslight back then. He liked it, and from that point on refused to call her by any other name. She would sit at the top stool at the bar, watching him as he took the eight-until- half-ten slot. Gil “The Gills” Gibson, London’s most celebrated cornet player. As he blew his horn to the darkened crowd, he could always see her there, illuminated by the faint glow of the lights behind the bar. Then they’d swap places, and he’d sip at his double Teachers and puff away at numerous Strands until her set was over. Come midnight, they’d swap back until they walked each other home come 2a.m.

Their regular routine lasted eight years, until the day when Gilbert told Dilys he was taking her down to the town hall to change her name by deed poll once and for all. Once she got down there, of course, she found he had a different change of name in mind — to his own.

They married as soon as they could, but she always remained his little nightingale. Together, the partnership of her distinctive voice and his unique cornet playing, never on stage together but inseparable nevertheless, made the Gaslight a jazz venue of unique renown.

And so they continued in their happy routine. He would play his cornet until two in the morning from Tuesday ‘til Thursday; Lizzie Nightingale would fill in for an hour and a half, always refusing to perform with him in public, but singing her heart out on her own at weekends.

And then, some twenty three years later, their world fell apart.

Lizzie’s persistent bronchial cough was rediagnosed as lung cancer. Gil and his thirty-a-day habit gave up his regular slot at the Gaslight in favour of a permanent, cigarette-free vigil at his wife’s bedside. Lizzie, who had never smoked in her life, wasted away in front of him. All the radiotherapy seemed to do was attack the fighting spirit, the humanity left within her, until all that was left was a festering, growing ball of malignancy.

Before the following January was out, Gil “The Gils” Gibson, greatest cornet player that the London jazz scene had ever known, was without his muse. Mickey Hamilton had insisted on a big do after the interment. And, while Gil knew so very few of the people in attendance, it felt somehow satisfying that they were there at all.

And yet, he still withdrew from them. Gradually, he found his way to the familiar bar stool, the one he would sip his Teachers from while he watched her, heard her, sing his favourite songs. He sat, and he remembered.

His reverie was broken by the incredulous harrumphing of the barman, as he served a Diet Coke to a small young woman who seemed to have taken offence at something he’d said (not, Gilbert admitted to himself, a particularly unusual occurrence). The badge-laden bomber jacket stood out amidst the sober apparel around him.

She caught him looking in her direction, and blushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The Professor and I, we were — well, we wanted to hear Lizzie Nightingale live, but we… I guess we missed her.”

Catching his rueful smile, she continued. “I mean, he’s talked about her all the time. Told me how she is — sorry, was — a fantastic singer. A remarkable voice.”

Gil gave a wistful sigh. “Oh, that she was,” he said. “I mean, any old sod like me can blow an old horn. But the human voice… That takes real class. You can’t fake that. And hers… hers was the best.”

The girl’s face broke into a warm, conciliatory smile. “I’d like to hear it some day.”

“I’m sure you would,” Gilbert replied. “And you know, I’d give anything to have been on that stage with her, just once. But we’re both losers, aren’t we. She never did record anything. And then, of course, the ca…”

She could see him choke back the word; it was if it had been excised from the dictionary just for today. “Lizzie’s ‘illness’”, he continued, “put paid to any of that.”

He drifted back into silence then, as did the strange girl next to him.

One by one, mourners approached to pay their respects, their platitudes never rising above the inoffensive flannel one expects to hear at a funeral service. What a shame she’s left us, they said. None of us know when our time is up, do we?

Gilbert just nodded, shook their hands and waited for them to head towards the sandwiches. The girl remained beside him, uncomfortably perched on one of the bar stools, while a much older man she clearly knew approached.

“I…”, he started.

“She…”, he continued.

And then he decided not to try finishing that sentence. Just placed a comforting hand on Gilbert’s arm, and looked straight into his eyes with his own grey, drooping, incosolable gaze. I too have known death, the look told him. I know how it hurts.

That look meant more to Gilbert then than any of the verbal comments he received that night. He felt his knees buckle. In an instant the girl was at his side, steadying him. He was as surprised as she was when he flung his arms around her, buried his face into the horrible plastic of her jacket shoulder and started to sob.

Gil didn’t know how long he stayed like that, staining her coat with tears. He dimly remembered her helping him onto his bar stool, ensuring he took a good swig of whisky and wasn’t, as she put it, “about to go off on one again.” Then the strange girl tugged at her companion’s coat sleeves, whispering, “Professor, I’ve got an idea.”

As other mourners started to surround him, including Mickey Hamilton — why did funereal condolences seem so hollow from someone with such bloody hands? — the strange couple slinked away. They had all the stealth of people who were doing their best not to be noticed leaving a room, but were failing miserably.

Somewhere in the distance, Gilbert heard a faint, mechanical wheezing, like an asthmatic toilet cistern that refused to flush. Very odd. He’d have to have a word with Mickey about the plumbing later.

And then he was hit with something — a dim, distant memory. Except it couldn’t have been them, they must have just had similar clothing. He remembered looking out from the stage, seeing his beloved talking to a strange little man and a girl in a bomber jacket.

How odd. He knew that memory must be years old, but at the same time it felt new somehow. Freshly formed.

Trying to reconcile the disparity in his mind was giving him a headache by the time he heard that strange rasping sound again. Looking round, he saw the odd pair — what had she called him, the Professor, was it? — creeping back into the room. But what was he carrying? It looked like… no, it couldn’t be. Why on earth…?

Everyone else was still consumed by their own conversations by the time the Professor has started up the old record player, and lowered the needle onto the spinning surface of the old 78. One by one, the other voices stopped, as the dust crackles gave way to a haunting mezzo-soprano.

The other mourners were unsure: after all, she’d never recorded a note, everyone knew that. Nevertheless, Gilbert could tell beyond all doubt that this was his Lizzie Nightingale, singing a haunting rendition of Someone To Watch Over Me. An East End lass with a voice just like Dinah Washington’s. He knew, despite it being completely impossible, posterity had recorded that one aspect that the cancer had been the first to take away.

The club was silent as the record finished. Nobody moved. A couple of people made as if to start clapping, but hesitated, not wanting to disrupt the silence. Then slowly, Gilbert took the stage, re-cued the record, and improvised a stirring counter-harmony on his cornet.

Husband and wife together held a silent audience enraptured. Over at the bar stool the couple had shared for so many years, he saw the Professor put an arm around his friend’s shoulders, as she turned away to hide her gentle tears.

And then, it was over. As he held the final note, every one in the club could sense that Gil “The Gills” Gibson had played his last. There was a hush, that unique type of anticipatory silence that nobody wants to break. Then slowly, Mickey Hamilton stepped forward, his face wet with tears, bringing his enormous, calloused hands together again and again. The booming resonance of his handclaps encouraged others to follow suit, until the whole room was alive in deafening appreciation.

Gilbert knew, as he took his bow, that the applause he heard was for his beloved wife as much as for him. And even in death, this single piece of vinyl, which in some way had never existed until this moment, would keep her alive for him.

As he straightened up, Gilbert looked around for the strange Professor and his oddly-dressed friend. Somehow, he knew that the wheezing sound in the distance meant that they were already on their way.

A new chapter

Scott Matthewman — Thu, 05 Apr 2007 15:50:48 +0000

This interview originally appeared in the April 5, 2007 issue of The Stage

Executive producer of Doctor Who Julie Gardner tells Scott Matthewman about the changes being made to the show, in front of and behind the camera, including a welcome move to larger production studios

Julie Gardner spends a lot of time on Doctor Who in her role as executive producer. “It’s pretty much a full, one-year job just to get each series to air. I look at rushes when we’re filming every day, I’ll read every single draft of every script and do a lot of meetings with the writers.”

Although that may be enough for most people, Gardner has other roles to fill, too. As well as executive producing Doctor Who spin-offs Torchwood and CBBC’s Sarah Jane Adventures, she is controller of drama for BBC Wales and, since last year, controller of drama commissioning at the BBC. “It’s quite a big workload,” she admits wryly, “but I think everyone working in the industry who really loves their job, as I completely do, works incredibly hard.

“What I no longer do is personally executive produce indie shows. I was the executive producer of Life on Mars, alongside John Yorke. I don’t do that in such a hands-on way for individual projects. So that’s what gives me the time. But I’m a bit obsessive — I mean, what else would I do?” Moving the three Doctor Who series to their own production studios in Upper Boat has helped tremendously, she says. “We spent a very good couple of years in a warehouse in Newport, but very, very quickly the scale of what we were trying to achieve on Doctor Who meant we were outgrowing the space available to us.”

The complex contains meeting rooms and edit suites, alongside the studio spaces. “There was a brilliant moment for Russell [T Davies] and me very early on in our filming of Torchwood, where we were able to come out of one development meeting, go in to the edit, see some rushes, then go straight on set and talk to the director about what we’d seen. It was absolutely seamless.

“Anything that makes the communication easier and makes people efficient always will have an impact on the on-screen value. The more slick you are as a production, the better.”

There are changes in front of the camera, too. This week saw the debut of Freema Agyeman as the Doctor’s new companion Martha Jones, with some very large Billie Piper-shaped shoes to fill. Comparing the two roles, Gardner says: “There are things in common, but [Martha] is a very different character. She’s still modern, she’s feisty and she’s clever. Of course, she develops a different relationship with the Doctor to the one Rose had, but she’s there to remind us what it is to be human, travelling in this extraordinary way, with this extraordinary man.”

And just as we think we know how the two characters work together, Gardner says the TARDIS will be shaken up by the return of previous companion Captain Jack Harkness, played by John Barrowman. “Captain Jack is in three episodes of this season — episodes 11, 12 and 13 — and it’s a joy seeing him back. It’s been a brilliant thing to see him on the rushes. He’s just a marvellous, marvellous presence to have. The dynamic in the TARDIS between Jack, the Doctor and Martha is fantastic.”

And it sounds like Jack will lose some of the more burdensome character traits he picked up as leader of Torchwood Cardiff in BBC3’s hit series. “Russell’s written those episodes. He absolutely knows that character and it’s utterly consistent with what you’d want, having seen him in Doctor Who. And it’s fun, and he’s heroic and gorgeous and there’s a lot going on there still.”

Torchwood itself has been recommissioned, this time for BBC2, with the second series not appearing until January 2008. “Last year, we started filming in March and we were on air with 13 episodes from late September, which was just so, so hectic. And we didn’t really have enough time — it was absolutely frantic from day one of prep, it was all hands on deck.

“And so, it just works for the BBC2 schedule that we can go in January. So it’ll just give us a little bit more time in our post-production. Which would be lovely, because we were delivering an episode every single week for transmission. It was incredibly tight. So it was just as well we didn’t have any lastminute technical difficulties last year.”

On the technical side, Torchwood was filmed in high definition, while its parent show is still recorded on standard digibeta. Gardner believes that Doctor Who isn’t ready for HD yet. “It would take more time for us to do our post-production and I think it would be more costly. And I genuinely love the look that we’ve managed to achieve with our DOPs, and our grade on Doctor Who.

“Also we do so many effects on Doctor Who, compared with Torchwood. I can’t think what the exact ratio is, but if we’re doing a hundred effects on an episode of Doctor Who, we’re doing 20, or ten, on Torchwood. And so the time it would take us for Doctor Who would really delay our schedule quite significantly at the moment. So we’re happy with our digibeta look on season three.”

The production of Doctor Who, since its revival in 2005, is probably one of the best documented in British television. Behind the scenes documentary series Doctor Who Confidential returns for a third 13-part series this year, with children’s magazine show Totally Doctor Who also returning for a second series. Gardner admits that, while she knew that the series meant a lot to fans when she started working on it four years ago, the level of interest in the production process continues to take her by surprise. “When you then see the interest, I understand it because the process of our filming is genuinely fascinating, in terms of prosthetics, CGI and how we put this kind of show together. I know that [producer] Phil Collinson and I find it surprising when people know our names. I’ve never had that.”

In terms of faces in front of the camera, the series continues to attract some high-profile names. From Anne Reid as a blood-sucking plasmavore in last weekend’s opening episode, and Dean Lennox Kelly as a raffish Will Shakespeare this Saturday, to Derek Jacobi and John Simm in mysterious roles near the end of the series, Gardner says the level of casting has been one of the great joys of her career. “Andy Pryor is a fantastic casting director and we’re just incredibly fortunate that we can get actors of such range and calibre.”

She says that there are many reasons why actors are quick to say yes to a guest spot, whether it’s nostalgia for a series they grew up with, or the thrill of being in a series that their own children can enjoy. “I think they also get to play characters, monsters and villains in a way that they’re not offered anywhere else. I mean, look at Sarah Parish [as the Empress of the Racnoss in the 2006 Christmas special]. She just had a blast playing that.

“So I think it’s for all kind of reasons. If you’re a guest character on Doctor Who, it’s a short commitment. If you’re only in one episode, you’re going to be in across two weeks, and you’re going to be opposite David Tennant and Freema, and I hope it’s going to be a great experience.”

With a fourth series now confirmed, I ask if she or Davies will be continuing with the series. “Do you know, I think we’ll all be dragged off on stretchers — you’d have to take us away,” she says. “We love the show. Everyone who works on the show loves the show. David and Freema absolutely love every day they come in on set. And I know that sounds like the Waltons, but it’s a joy — and so it’ll be quite hard to get us all off.”

Short story + 7

Scott Matthewman — Tue, 30 Jan 2007 18:05:45 +0000

Earlier this week, I submitted my entry for Big Finish’s Doctor Who short story competition. The closing date is tomorrow, January 31, and I don’t know how long it’ll be until I hear who beat me (such confidence, I know).

I ditched the original short story I tried writing for the competition, as I realised that it was really a Tenth-Doctor-and-Rose story that I was trying to shoehorn into an earlier incarnation to fit into BF’s licensing restrictions. And it was very obvious — there’s a tangible difference in style between the Doctor’s relationship with Rose and that of previous companions. So, after many failed rewrites, I put that story to one side. Maybe it’ll resurface one day, in some form.

The first draft of the story I ended up submitting was written some seven years ago. Thanks to the internet, it’s possible to read it as it was then if you dig around (on this site and elsewhere). I’m not going to link to it just yet, for superstitious reasons more than anything: I think the new version, which has been substantially rewritten, is a big improvement. To highlight that earlier, inferior draft wouldn’t feel right.

~~As soon as I get confirmation that somebody better has won, I’ll publish the new version here.~~

Update: The tale I submitted, Requiem for a Songbird, is now online.

Love & Monsters: Mister Blue Sky Thinking

Scott Matthewman — Sun, 18 Jun 2006 21:58:34 +0000

Review of Series 2, Episode 10 - with spoilers

As readers may have noticed, I’d fallen out of the habit of writing individual reviews of Doctor Who episodes, mainly because I’ve been blogging a lot more during the week. But Anna requested it, so I guess I’d better get back on with it.

So. Love & Monsters. The title pretty much sums up the revived version of Doctor Who; an emotional heart to a story is just as important as a well-realised alien menace, if not more so. And, in a story that, for production reasons, necessitated the absence of the Doctor and Rose, we get to see the effects of the time-travelling duo on the people who normally barely register on the radar.

It’s an established trick: as Russell T Davies notes in his commentary, Star Trek: The Next Generation had Below Decks; Buffy The Vampire Slayer had Season 3’s The Zeppo — still one of my favourite episodes. Stylistically, Love & Monsters has very strong echoes of the latter, with the main characters’ world-saving exploits played for laughs.

In Buffy’s case, though, the lead was taken up by Xander, a character we had already warmed to. With L&M, the mantle is assumed by a new character, Elton — played with aplomb by Hustle’s Marc Warren. With able support from Shirley Henderson and the rest of fan/support group L.I.N.D.A., the story careers at breakneck speed between comedy and pathos.

And then, of course, there’s Jackie Tyler. Underused so far in Series 2, Camille Coduri’s fabulous portrayal provides the continuity with the rest of the series, giving Elton and Ursula’s story a firm foundation in the Doctor Who universe. For those of us who relish every return visit to the Powell Estate, this was a treat, with Coduri able to switch from comedic temptress to heart-breakingly stone-faced protective mother in a heartbeat. If rumours are to be believed, Jackie may not be appearing in future series; if that is the case, then Love & Monsters shows she’ll be going out on a high.

There are really so many great moments, visually and scriptwise, in this episode. But for me, seeing how L.I.N.D.A. grew out of a group of people following the Doctor’s exploits, into a band of friends revelling in each other’s company and sharing their passions for life, mirrors the best groups of fans. In my case, it was an online group that also consisted of a friend from university who went on to edit Doctor Who Magazine, my cousin and a certain exec producer of Doctor Who and writer of this episode.

In many such fan groups, over-eager insistence on following a regimented study of the original topic kills the group — as metaphorically shown with Peter Kay’s Victor Kennedy on screen. Is it any coincidence, I wonder, that the Victor Kennedys of the Doctor Who fan world have been the same people who have produced the biggest negative reactions against this sublime episode?

Rise of the Cybermen: The March of Humanity 2.0

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 13 May 2006 15:52:44 +0000

Review of Series 2, Episode 5 - with spoilers

When Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis needed a new style of Doctor Who monster in 1966, they looked no further than humanity itself. Looking at our species, they identified what it was that set us apart from machines — and got rid of it. And thus, the Cyberman was born: cybernetic creatures that were once human, but with all traces of emotion, any sense of a soul, removed and destroyed.

If anything, that severance of a connection with ourselves has made the Cyberman a far more terrifying foe for the Doctor than the Dalek, even in its new, terrifyingly relentless form as seen last year. Unfortunately, in the later years of Doctor Who’s original run, their effectiveness was weakened by overuse and occasionally dodgy characterisation. In the first part of Tom MacRae’s two-episode story, there’s every sign that they are on a definite return to form.

When the Daleks returned, it was essential that they looked pretty much like they always had in our imagination. With the Cybermen, though, there is no one historical design — so Neill Gorton’s Millennium FX were free to take inspiration from the multiple designs that have been seen in the last four decades. They’ve produced a masterpiece — moving men of steel, with a real sense of weight and merciless brutality.

The quasi-art deco look fits in with the parallel Earth that the Doctor, Rose and Mickey find themselves in — a world where Zeppelins swarm the skies above London. As with so many science fiction stories set in alternative realities, the concerns of the day are amplified — in this case, we have the single large technology corporation, sticking its digital fingers into every aspect of our lives. This, coupled with the ubiquity of mobile phones and the desire to have the latest upgrade, creates the perfect scenario in which, in their anniversary year, to portray a Cyberman genesis story.

And in general, it works very well indeed. Director Graeme Harper, the first to have worked on both the old and new versions of Doctor Who, creates an effectively claustrophobic environment, no more so than as the cries of the first human “upgrades” echo around a deserted factory. And Tom MacRae’s script, in common with the best aspects of this incarnation of Who, excels in portraying the humanity that the Cybermen lack. Especially effective is the set-up of Mickey Smith’s backstory, which is exposited and then expanded upon in short order, without feeling rushed. And the old device of the small resistance cell (in this case, led by that other old standby, the alternate universe version of Mickey) manages to stay just the right side of clich&eacute.

If only the same could be said of Roger Lloyd Pack’s John Lumic — the head of Cybus Industries and creator of this universe’s Cybermen. In a wheelchair, crippled and dying, the evil genius who creates a new race of creatures to provide a twisted longevity for his race, inspired by his own quest for immortality, Lumic comes across as nothing more than a low-rent Davros. It’s not a fault of Lloyd Pack, but of the character he’s been given; a necessary role, but a cardboard one.

The only other negative point for me came at the episode’s climax, as the communicative Cyberman becomes reduced to chanting, “Delete, Delete, Delete”. As a catchphrase, it’s no “Exterminate”, let’s face it, and seems a backward step given the way that the steel monsters have previously been, if you’ll pardon the pun, fleshed out.

School Reunion: Say Hello, (Finally) Wave Goodbye

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 29 Apr 2006 16:25:24 +0000

Review of Series 2, Episode 3 — with spoilers

If there’s one thing you have to remember of the reborn Doctor Who, it’s that the science fiction element is secondary. Far more important is the character interplay, the emotional investment of the Doctor and Rose, and the sundry other characters they meet. Sometimes — as in New Earth — the weakness of the sci-fi element detracts from the heart of the story, in both senses of the word. But sometimes, just sometimes, you get a story that’s so full of emotional beats that it’s virtually indestructible.

And that story is School Reunion, with a debut Who script by Toby Whithouse. There’s a wonderfully creepy B-story of alien bat-men posing as teachers, led by Anthony Head as the uber-sinister Headmaster Finch — a story which, with its scenes of children being hypnotised into doing others’ dirty work by means of souped-up computers, has elements of exec producer Russell T. Davies’ debut TV drama, Dark Season. And while that story is fine, save for a couple of plot jumps (where does Milo go?), it’s really just an excuse for the real plot. And that can be summarised in just four words:

Sarah Jane Smith. K9.

For anyone who was into Doctor Who thirty years ago, Sarah Jane set the benchmark by which any Doctor Who companion, before or since, has been judged — a benchmark that Rose is one of the few to even approach, let alone surpass. Despite her popularity, her summary departure from the TARDIS in 1975 is one of the more unexpected, and least satisfactory, in the series’ history. The manner in which she left has always seemed unresolved. Of course, in fictional lore, the Doctor gave Sarah-Jane a gift to remember him by — a new model of his robot dog, K9, in the execrably funny spin-off, K9 and Company. But all the cutesy electronics in the world don’t give you closure on the unexpected demise of a relationship that you always hoped would never end (says the bloke who bought his first iPod in a bout of post-break-up retail therapy)…

When Sarah Jane comes back into the Doctor’s life, as they are both investigating the goings on at Deffry Vale School, there is the chance to see the emotional destruction that the Doctor leaves in his wake, as well as the realisation on Rose’s face that, one day, he’ll leave her too. And it’s a thing of beauty. As Mickey says, it’s a classic “missus-meets-the-ex” scenario, as Rose and SJ start off sniping at each other, but gradually realise that they’re far too alike to be anything other than best of friends.

This is without doubt the most emotional the series has ever got in its 43-year history, and it does it in a way that only a series that has run that long could ever do. There are so many emotional touchpoints to savour here, as we examine the long-term effects a relationship with the Doctor has on the people he leaves — has to leave — behind. Obviously, the scenes of one-upmanship as Rose and Sarah Jane try to outdo each other on the horrors they’ve seen, and the confrontation inside and out of the night café where Sarah Jane finally tells the Doctor how he made her feel (and Rose gets a glimpse of her own future) will stand out.

But we should not let that overshadow the other, less obvious, story: how Mickey and K9 are both secondary characters, utilised for exposition and/or comedy value, and will never attain that higher echelon of “companion”. It’s a perfect parallel, and as we enter the second series with gusto, this is the perfect time to make it. As Mickey makes three a crowd in the TARDIS by the episode’s end, we must surely remember the fate of his seventies counterpart just minutes earlier — is this a foreshadowing as to Noel Clarke’s character’s fate?

There seem to be other hints of future events, too (although I’m speculating here), many of which are ripples building on ripples. The Doctor’s apparent temptation of the concept of becoming a god — able to save the Time Lords and “finish the War” (note, finish it — not reverse it, or avenge it) — brings to mind the fable of the Face of Boe, who will speak his dying words to the “lonely god”. It’s a nice touch that it’s Sarah Jane who brings him back, her words — “everything has its time, and everything ends” — echoing his own, in The End of the World, about the Earth, Cassandra and, by implication, his people.

And it’s the final scene that us long-term fans have been waiting thirty-one years for: Sarah Jane finally gets the Doctor to say goodbye. And in doing so, he leaves Sarah Jane another gift: a rebuilt model of K9 (in series mythology, this may be Mark IV, but in my universe, it’s Mark V — Mark IV is in Manchester…). Far more importantly, he gives her closure, and the chance to stop waiting for him to return.

A beautiful end to a heartbreaking episode.

Tooth and Claw: A fanciful tale, intended to scare the children

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 22 Apr 2006 21:36:24 +0000

Review of Series 2, Episode 2 — with spoilers

Jane Tranter, the BBC head of drama, issued the Doctor Who production team an edict before this series. They were, she said, to give the historical episodes a “kick up the arse”. With Tooth and Claw, pretty much the whole of South Wales’ TV talent has taken a collective boot to the genre’s backside — and the result is 45 minutes of television gold that’s scarier than many a horror film twice the length.

As the Doctor and Rose find themselves in Victorian Scotland — indeed, in the company of Her Majesty herself — they arrive at the sinister-looking Torchwood House, unaware that it has been taken over by a group of violent monks, in the final stages of a plan to infect the Empress of India with the bite of a werewolf.

As assassination attempts go, it’s one of the more outlandish — but it results in a taut thriller. CGI experts The Mill produce a werewolf that far surpasses that from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which shared many of the same animators, but at the same time it’s sensibly given limited screen time. This is due in part due to budgetary limitations, but it allows us to see the far more horrific consequences on the humans caught in its fray. As the residents of Torchwood House are picked off one by one, there’s a sense of death and danger that scared the beejesus out of me. God knows what children thought of it.

As Queen Victoria, Pauline Collins gives one of her best performances of her career, bringing the legendary monarch to life as a warm, witty widow with a steely sense of purpose. It’s a portrayal that makes the episode’s big twist — that, unlike most stories, the Doctor is not hailed as the all-conquering hero at the end, but effectively drummed out of town, banished from the Empire by its sovereign — all the more effective.

And at the episode’s end, we have the big reveal — that Queen Victoria, angered by his attitude, sets up the Torchwood Institute in opposition to him. Of course, we’ve already seen the Institute in action in The Christmas Invasion — another episode where the Doctor falls out with the most powerful woman in the country. Clearly, with a series of the same name gearing up for production, we’ll be seeing more of them in the weeks to come.

All in all, we have the perfect Doctor Who episode, and one that sets a standard that future episodes will really struggle to match. Director Euros Lyn, one of the stalwarts of Series One, pulled out all the stops — the pre-credits sequence is possibly the most amazing two minutes of action the BBC has ever committed to tape — and delivered an action-packed ghost story that demonstrates that, after the disappointment of New Earth, writer/producer Russell T. Davies is a complete and utter genius.

The Face of Boe’s secret

Scott Matthewman — Wed, 19 Apr 2006 00:44:28 +0000

“Welcome for a third and final time, Doctor. And my secret is…

“I am your father… no, wait, that’s not it, sorry, memory’s not what it was… Soylent Green is people!… er… it’ll come to me in a minute… Laura Palmer’s father is BOB? The Apes’ planet is really Earth? Bruce Willis is a ghost? Your companion has grafittied that bloody ‘Bad Wolf’ tag all over space/time with no consideration for other people?

“Give me a minute… yes! I remember now!

“I’ve worked out what the fuck the ending of 2001 was all about. Only took me five billion years…”

New Earth: Beyond the End of the World

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 15 Apr 2006 21:32:18 +0000

Review of Series 2, Episode 1 — with spoilers

There are many reasons why New Earth, the opening episode of Doctor Who Series 2, is a natural successor to last year’s The End of the World. The return of Lady Cassandra O’Brien Dot Delta Seventeen and the Face of Boe are the most obvious, naturally. Other links are less obvious:

This is our second story with David Tennant’s Doctor, just as EOTW was with Christopher Eccleston’s.
In both, we’re shown brief glimpses of the Powell Estate (via a transtemporal phone call in Season One, and with fond goodbyes in Season Two).
In both, one of the lead characters is trapped for a period (Rose in a viewing room, the Doctor in a ‘patient’ booth).
Some laugh-out loud comedy moments based on popular culture, from the Tainted Love iPod to the contender for Best Line in Doctor Who Ever — ‘Oh my God! I’m a CHAV!’
Both showcase the prosthetics works of Neill Gorton and Millennium FX, and demonstrate why it’s criminal that the team has not yet got BAFTA recognition.

But there are some other areas where both episodes have similar faults that hold them back from being great episodes. In both, there are acres of excellent CGI, tempered by one or two hiccups. In The End of the World, Cassandra’s facial features were jerky and unbelievable (thankfully, much improved this time round), and one or two shots of metallic spiders emerging from their orbs failed to match the studio lighting exactly,and looked superimposed as a result. This time round, the effects of a human, and then a Sister of Plenitude, being infected look particularly weak.

More seriously, both episodes’ science fiction plots have weak resolutions. The End of the World has the fan sequence, which takes Galaxy Quest’s gauntlet sequence and plays it straight (why would the system reset switch be so inaccessible, if it was needed in an emergency?), and a Poirot-style ‘whoddunit?’ that comes from nowhere, and goes the same way. New Earth has the plague zombies being instantly cured by touch alone.

In both, it’s as if the production team are saying to us, “forget the sci-fi, it’s not important; look at the character work, that’s the real story”. And they’re right, in a way. In both cases, the subplots that benefit from the extra screen time (the fate of the Doctor’s people, the redemption of Cassandra) involve superb writing and acting from both leads and guests. But the rushed endings leave the whole episodes with the impression that they’re missing something.

In New Earth’s favour is Billie Piper. Her turn as Cassandra-in-Rose’s-body is breathtaking, highlighting what a fantastic comedian, what a fantastic actress, she is. She and David Tennant are going to be a formidable Saturday night double-act for another twelve weeks.

Can’t wait.

Seventh heaven: BBC7 and Doctor Who

Scott Matthewman — Wed, 14 Sep 2005 12:45:00 +0000

The original of this article is still available on The Stage

While one can hardly have failed to notice the return to Saturday nights of TV series Doctor Who, what few may realise is that — TV programmes aside — the Doctor has been far from inactive. Since 1999 audio drama production company Big Finish has been selling full-scale dramas starring several of the original series Doctors, from Peter Davison onwards, to legions of fans.

“We tried to recapture the essence of Doctor Who 1981-1989, because those were our three Doctors,” says the dramas’ co-producer, Gary Russell. “What makes Doctor Who work on audio is that it’s a programme that’s always pushed the imagination, but within that it still had the confines of BBC television budgets, which let’s face it in the Eighties were ridiculously tight. You had a BBC that generally flooded everything with light - the idea of mood and atmosphere wasn’t a prerequisite for any drama, let alone Doctor Who. On audio, you have the ability to tell the good stories - and I’ve always thought the series has those - but without the same constraint. So many people say, ‘On audio you can have ten thousand Daleks swarming over the hill,’ but it’s not about that. If anything, on audio it’s about two people in a dark room being scared. There’s no visual stimulus at all, so everything has got to come out in the story and the acting. That’s far more challenging and far more exciting.”

Author Robert Shearman used the audio medium to great effect with his Dalek story, Jubilee. It was so well received that he was to rework it in 2004 for the TV series episode Dalek. “That was the most flattering thing in the world,” says Russell. “It was something I’d produced and I’d worked with Rob on the script. The setting is different, the characters are different, but the basics of the story - isolation, Dalek, companion getting attached to Dalek and not understanding the Doctor’s hatred of it, Doctor wants to kill and companion says no you can’t - that’s straight from Jubilee.”

In 2001, Big Finish started a series of adventures with Paul McGann, who had originally played the role in a one-off 1996 TV movie, with India Fisher as his companion, Charley Pollard. For Russell, working with a Doctor who had rarely been seen was an opportunity. “It allowed us to push the envelope, because there was more of a blank slate,” he says. Working with the more established Doctors, he explains, there is a beginning and endpoint. “You know that whatever you do has got to fit in. You can go along a certain path and branch out, but at the end of the day, whether it’s at the end of an individual story or thinking ahead to the future, you’ve got to get them to Androzani, you’ve got to get them to Vervoid land or whatever, or to San Francisco in 1999 [where McCoy’s character regenerated into McGann].

“With Paul, it was much more of a blank canvas. At that point, we had no idea that there would ever be a Ninth Doctor, therefore Paul was The Doctor. And that’s where we went - particularly with the first season [now playing on digital radio channel BBC7]. It’s much more freewheeling than we’d been with the other ranges. We could be a little bit scarier because we were able to say ‘you have no preconceived notions of where this person’s going or how it’s going to end’.”

The deal to broadcast the plays on BBC7 came about thanks to the persistence of the channel’s controller, Mary Kalemkerian. Co-producer Jason Haigh-Ellery says: “Mary was very keen from the start, but at the time BBC7’s budget was very limited. Our agreement was for audio release only; to release them for radio, we would need to get new contracts done with all the actors, producers - everyone - and we needed more money for that than they had. A couple of years later, after the huge success on television and with increased funding for BBC7 because it’s been doing so well, they were able to scrape together just about enough for us to do it.”

The strict half-hour time slots meant that some episodes had to be edited down, a task made easier by the decision not to use one story, Minuet in Hell, which contained some content not suitable for the 6:30pm timeslot. “We cut one little ongoing storyline, with Ramsey the Vortisaur, out completely because the payoff was in Minuet,” says Russell. “If you’ve got things like that in mind, it’s quite easy to take that as our kicking-off point for cutting stuff out and then you’re just tweaking here and there. It’s amazing how easy it is, actually. With the hindsight of five years, it’s quite easy to decide which scenes could benefit from a little bit of trimming. There are a couple of little bits of character that we had to lose, and we cut the pre-credits sequence completely out of Stones of Venice, which got that episode down to 29 minutes dead. But I loved that sequence, because it’s such a good bit of character work between the Doctor and Charley. Ironically enough, it was the very first thing we ever recorded with Paul McGann. They’re having the end of an adventure, and there’s lots of gunfire, and I just thought, for the first scene they ever had to do together, Paul and India just kicked off. As I was sitting there cutting it out I thought, awww, there’s a bit of history we’ve just cut out of the radio broadcast. In context though, it’s probably the best thing to do, because anyone listening dry would think, ‘what on earth is this all about?’”

The initial listening figures have been promising, and Haigh-Ellery is hopeful that the company’s association with BBC7 will continue. “We’re already discussing something for Christmas, but that’s a way off yet. I think I can see that the link-up with BBC7 could be a long term thing.”

Following the success of the television series, the BBC has started to exercise a greater degree of control over Big Finish’s Doctor Who output - a far cry from their early days, when BBC Worldwide exerted little editorial influence. When they started, Big Finish were not given any restrictions on what they could do with the franchise. “We said they did to the fans, though,” notes Russell with a smile. “We put our own guidelines down. It was taken for granted that we knew what we were doing and we weren’t going to muck around with the license. We weren’t going to regenerate the Doctor, he wasn’t suddenly going to have rampant sex, we weren’t going to have Arnie-style violence.”

Now, though, things have changed, with future scripts and storylines requiring approval from the Doctor Who television production office at BBC Wales in Cardiff - a process which the audio producers are happy with. “Every time I get a storyline or synopsis, I run it past Russell [T Davies, the TV series’ executive producer] and say, are you doing anything close to this? And if Russell says, ‘no, it’s a great idea’, then we go ahead and get a storyline, and then it goes officially through the production office, goes back to BBC Worldwide and goes round, and eventually they come back with, ‘yes, you can go ahead and commission this as a script’. Nine people check them.

“What I think is good is the positive stuff that always comes out of Cardiff. There’s never just a ‘yeah, alright, just do it’, it’s always, ‘it’s really good, and maybe you could do this, or you ought to watch out, maybe this bit doesn’t work’. There’s a real interest in what we’re doing. It’s very flattering that they care enough to do that.”

Occasionally the producers veto a story idea that might touch on an area that will also be covered on television. “A year ago I had a story that featured Queen Victoria, and Russell T Davies said, ‘Could you not, because I’m thinking of using her’, so we took her out. And then the season went out and I sat there wondering where she was. But then all the announcements for Season 2 were made, including Queen Victoria. Russell is working that far ahead. If Big Finish’s output didn’t matter to him, he wouldn’t care less if the Doctor had met Queen Victoria already. He’d just say, ‘yeah, but that was just an audio and this is real television.’ Whereas he didn’t want our Doctor meeting Queen Victoria because he was going to do their first meeting.”

Big Finish has since diversified into other series, including Doctor Who Unbound, a range of stories with alternative actors playing the Doctor. For the first time, listeners could hear how the Time Lord may have sounded had the role been taken up by David Warner, Sir Derek Jacobi or even Fast Show actress Arabella Weir. “When we were casting new Doctors, we could have just gone with the obvious people,” says Haigh-Ellery. “Instead, we sat down and said, we’re going to have a blank piece of paper and go absolute ‘top end’ and wait for them to say no. We actually went for some really big names - seriously big film stars. In fact we got very close to casting someone who had done three of the biggest films in history, because he was interested but couldn’t quite fit it in. He was doing a lot of films at the time, eight films in a row, and his agent said, ‘He’s very interested, but can he do it next year?’ I had to say no, so his agent turned us down.” Despite that refusal, Haigh-Ellery maintains that it was a useful exercise. “Even for a big name star, when you’re doing one or two days in the studio, it’s not going to change their life.”

The latest Big Finish project is a revival of the cult fantasy series Sapphire and Steel, albeit without its original stars, David McCallum and Joanna Lumley. “David is doing a series over in America, Navy NCIS, and although he was quite interested, he didn’t want to come back to the UK during his time off,” says Haigh-Ellery. “And then because David wasn’t going to be able to do it, Joanna was less inclined. So we had to set about looking for two new cast members. “We’d just been working with David Warner on the Doctor Who Unbound series. He’s a fantastic actor and a great bloke, very easy to work with and very enthusiastic. David loved working in audio. It’s something he hasn’t done in something like 20 or 30 years, due to spending all his time over in LA doing Hollywood movies. So, when it came to cast Sapphire and Steel, his was a name that came forward immediately.”

Playing Sapphire is Susannah Harker, who has also worked with the company before, on Shada, a 2003 adaptation of a 1980 Douglas Adams script for television which never completed filming due to industrial action. “Susannah’s a big science fiction fan - that’s why she did Shada, because she’d always wanted to be a Doctor Who companion when she was growing up. And so she came on board very quickly and they’ve been doing fantastically well together. We’re doing five stories in the first season, and we’re just about to start commissioning a second, which is good news.”

The series will add to Big Finish’s roster of 190 audio dramas produced to date, working with 463 different actors. “It’s quite an impressive thing,” says Russell. “I can’t think of very many other companies that in only 6 or 7 years have used that many Equity members. I’m actually very proud of the fact that we’ve used so many actors and given so many people jobs.”

Approaching actors has never been a problem, he says, “although I worry that it might become a slight problem now because they may go, ‘I’d rather do it on TV’. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of people that have actually said a definite ‘no, the money’s not good enough’ or ‘God no, I’m not doing Doctor Who’. Everyone else goes ‘oh yeah, that would be great fun’. It’s amazing how many people we talk to who say, ‘you worked with a mate of mine a couple of months ago and he told me how brilliant this was - that’s what swung it for me to come and do this.’ To get that word of mouth from the acting industry is phenomenal. We’ve worked hard to create it, we really have, and it has paid dividends.”

RTD on Bad Wolf, part 2

Scott Matthewman — Tue, 14 Jun 2005 15:11:30 +0000

Have you solved the mystery of Bad Wolf, the cryptic hidden message spread across this season of Doctor Who?

Well, no. You haven’t. At least, not according to Executive Producer Russell T Davies, who has been keeping an eager eye on the various theories about who or what the Bad Wolf could be: “Judging from the reactions I’ve had, a lot of people seem to think the Bad Wolf has already been revealed. Oh, it’s the TV station. Oh, it’s half a million Daleks. I’ve even got one friend claiming it’s the Face of Boe! I must get better friends.

“I don’t want to give anything away yet, but there is another revelation to come in Saturday’s episode. We haven’t discovered the true Bad Wolf yet.”

Source: BBC

RTD on Bad Wolf

Scott Matthewman — Wed, 08 Jun 2005 15:00:42 +0000

In this week’s TV & Satellite Week:

I didn’t think people would notice, but I should have known that science fiction fans would spot it blindfolded from 300 miles! All will be revealed next week. A lot of people think it’s a super-villain, though I can’t imagine why he would graffiti his name all over the place! It’s a bit subtler than that. It’s a lovely pay-off. But there’s no big panto villain.

Bad Wolf Hunting

Scott Matthewman — Tue, 03 May 2005 18:36:39 +0000

15/05/05 updated to cover up to episode 8 (Father’s Day)
18/05/05 updated to cover the first three Ninth Doctor novels
28/05/05 updated to cover up to episode 10 (The Doctor Dances)
08/06/05 updated to cover episode 11 (Boom Town)

Something that’s really setting the Doctor Who fan community alight are continued references, at roughly one per episode, to a “Bad Wolf”. Quite what these repeated comments are referring to is a complete mystery — albeit one that’s destined to become clear in the penultimate episode of the series, which it has now been announced is also called “Bad Wolf”.

So far, we’ve seen or heard the following:

~~In Rose, the Nestene Consciousness quite clearly shrieks the words “Bad Wolf!” as the Tardis is revealed (the Doctor says it has recognised the Tardis as “superior technology”).~~ (now discredited)
In The End of the World, the Moxx of Balhoon mentions to the Face of Boe that they are facing “the Bad Wolf scenario”.
In The Unquiet Dead, psychic scullery maid Gwyneth tells Rose that she’s seen the darkness in her mind — “the big bad wolf”.
In Aliens of London, a young boy tags the Tardis with the words “BAD WOLF” in white paint.
In World War Three, the American newsreader is identified as Mal Loup — at least, on the website version (requires RealPlayer). I can’t see such identification on the broadcast version.
In Dalek, the call sign of Van Statten’s helicopter is identified as “Bad Wolf One”.
In The Long Game, The Face of Boe announces his pregnancy on Bad Wolf TV (see More Bad Wolf sightings).
In Father’s Day, the words “BAD WOLF” reappear in graffiti form — this time on a poster promoting a rave (Energize, to be held on 20 November 1987).
In The Empty Child, there was nothing overt at all — although many people (including the myriad people who continually impress me with their theories in the comments to this post) have compared the Doctor and Nancy’s conversation in the railway yard to the “what a big nose you have” conversation wit the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.
In The Doctor Dances, Captain Jack rides a WWII bomb, Doctor Strangelove-style, that has “Schlechter Wolf” (the first word’s obscured by his oh-so-manly-thigh — but confirmation arrive courtesy of Mickey and UNIT).
In Boom Town, the nuclear power station planned for the centre of Cardiff is called “Drwg Blaidd” — Welsh for ‘bad wolf’. We have the first on-screen acknowledgement of the fact that those words have been following the Doctor and Rose around for some time. The Doctor laughs it off as “just coincidence” — but is it?

In addition, the supporting websites that the BBC has been creating to tie in with the series have added their own references. After the events of World War Three, Mickey (new webmaster of Who is Doctor Who?) tell us:

When he said goodbye, The Doctor gave me a disc. He said it contained a virus that would wipe him from the internet.

Thing is: I can’t bring myself to use it.

You see, he’s off, making another decision for us, all “I’m the big bad wolf and it’s way past your bedtime.” Well, I don’t think so. Not this time.

It’s enough for us all that I’ve got the virus. On CD. And I’m ready to use it. If he really is that dangerous. (link).

This week, the Geocomtex site, promoting the products and services of the company headed by Van Statten in Dalek, lists as one of its products:

Node Stabilised (Lupus and Nocens variants)

Of course, lupus is Latin for ‘wolf’ — and ‘nocens’, while more properly meaning ‘harmful’ or ‘injurious’, can also be translated as just plain ‘bad’.

The latest version of the main Doctor Who website, to support Saturday’s episode, The Long Game, includes in the bottom right-hand corner a picture of a wolf. Click on it, and the word badwolf appears many times over.

And now, with the publication of the first three in a (hopefully long) line of Ninth Doctor novels, the habit continues:

In The Clockwise Man, the Doctor is accused of turning up “like a bad wolf”.
In The Monsters Inside, Rose and her friend are trapped in a spaceship cockpit as the alien pilot bangs at the locked door, “like the big bad wolf”.
In Winner Takes All, Mickey’s front room is littered with video games, including one called Bad Wolf.

So who, or what, is the Bad Wolf? Haven’t got a diddly’s, to be honest. There’s much debate amongst fans old and new. Some think it’s the Doctor, some think Rose. Is it a foe that has been seen in the series so far, and is set to return in episode 12? And how does all this fit into the other story thread this series — that of the Time War that seems to have wiped out all Time Lords but the Doctor, and all Daleks but the one that was purchased by Van Statten?

The name “bad wolf” has proven to be a genius move. It evokes memories of the scariest fairy tales — the Big Bad Wolf huffing and puffing down the houses of the three Little Pigs; the wolf eating, and taking the place of, Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. Echoes of both of those stories can also be seen at various points in the series (Rose, when we first meet her, is wearing a red hooded top; the Slitheen decoy is a pig; Nancy’s deconstruction of Christopher Eccleston’s face is, besides being the right side of insulting to be funny, an echo of Little Red Riding Hood’s “what big eyes you have” conversation with the wolf (thanks, all our commenters!)).

I’m looking forward to finding out just where this is going. If I was to put my money on anything, though, it’d be that there are reasons that neither Rose nor the Doctor yet know of for the references continually cropping up: maybe the ‘huffing’ and ‘puffing’ of a third, as yet unnamed, enemy in the Time War (an enemy that has already caused the destruction of the Dalek and Time Lord houses) is causing ripples throughout space and time such that the phrase crops up subconsciously in myriad places.

Time, as they say, will tell.

New Best Friend

Scott Matthewman — Wed, 21 Jun 2000 17:20:58 +0000

Every part of Hazel that wasn’t supported by an underwire sagged visibly as she sat down at the kitchen table.

‘Well, that’s that,’ she said to the toaster in the corner, there being no one else in the house. ‘It’s just you, me and half a loaf of Mother’s Pride from now on. D’you think they’ll send me a postcard?’ She dragged on her cigarette. ‘Will they fuck.’

The toaster said nothing, which she took as being agreement. She liked talking to electrical goods; they never spoke back and interrupted a good bitching session.

Sticking the remains of her last Benson and Hedges in her mouth, she got up and flicked on the kettle. There were no mugs in the cupboard, which was no surprise to her. Vince was the only one who had ever done any washing up around here, even after he’d moved out. Bernie was forever up to his armpits in motor oil, and Alexander - well, there just weren’t enough hours in the day to wash his hair and the crockery, bless him. She picked what looked like the least dirty mug out of the sink (there was a dash of lippy on the rim, but it looked like her colour rather than Alice Band’s, so that was alright) and dropped in a tea bag.

It was as she was pouring in the hot water that she first felt she was being watched. She turned to face the hallway. ‘Bernie? Is that you?’ That man could hear an automatic kettle come to the boil from the other side of Withington. There was no sign of him, though. Or Alexander, for that matter. Oh well, she thought, they can get their own bloody tea.

Hazel sat down again and instinctively reached for the fag packet as she stubbed out the now-dead cigarette. She’d known it was empty before she’d even picked it up, but at least it allowed her to slam it back down onto the table in a highly theatrical manner, even if nobody else was there to see her.

Except that there was. She could really feel it now. Some bastard was watching her.

She span round towards the back door. That’s when she saw him - it. Its blank, scarlet eye panel gazing in her direction.

It was Vince’s bloody robot dog.

She stared at it with The Hazel Glare. It didn’t move. She stared some more. Its impassive gaze returned hers, look for unblinking look.

‘Okay, you win,’ she said eventually. ‘But one false move and I’ll go back to your friend, the flaming toaster.’

‘Correction, mistress. Toasting device is not currently ablaze and has not been for eighty seven hours thirty two minutes eighteen sec…’

Hazel’s scream of shock dissolved into a shriek of disbelieving laughter. ‘Fuck me, it talks back.’

‘Clarification, mistress: this unit prefers designation “K9” to “it”.’

‘Yeah, well this unit prefers “Hazel” to “mistress”, thank you very much. It was a very long time ago, I needed the money and I don’t want to be reminded of it.’

‘Mistress?’

She poked a finger threateningly in his direction. ‘I’m warning you…’

‘Mistress Hazel?’

She paused for a while. ‘Well, I suppose if that’s the best you can do… what do you want?’

K9 trundled forward, ticker tape spewing from where its mouth ought to be. Hazel ripped it off, and read it.

+++ HELLO HAZEL +++ HOPE YOU LIKE K9 MARK IV +++ A LITTLE SURPRISE TO KEEP YOU COMPANY +++ LOVE V AND S +++

Hazel looked at her new companion. ‘Mark IV, eh? What happened to the first three, I wonder?’

‘K9 Mark I remained on Gallifrey with the Mistress. K9 Mark II remained in Exo Space with the Mistress. K9 Mark III resides in East London with…’

‘…the Mistress,’ concluded Hazel for him. ‘I’m beginning to get the picture. Tell you what, you can stay - only on a trial basis, mind. But the first patch of sump oil on the carpet that’s not from Bernie and you’re on your way to the robot dog psychologist to discuss your dominatrix fixation, understood?’

K9’s ears waggled in response.

Hazel turned back to the toaster. ‘Sorry mate,’ she said, patting it consolingly. ‘It looks like you’ve been usurped. Still, I know where you are when I need a quiet bit of crumpet.’

Imperfect Timing

Scott Matthewman — Tue, 06 Jun 2000 19:51:03 +0000

“You will wait for me, won’t you?”

The warm squeeze of her shoulder told her everything.

Mel began the walk up the driveway. It had only been a few months since leaving home, yet to her parents she had been away for nearly fifteen years. She wondered what to expect: would Dad have given up golf by now, Mum admitted to grey hair?

She reached out for the doorbell — and dematerialised.

In the distance, the Doctor sighed. He knew Mel would be sent back to his courtroom at some point, but… Some Time Lords just had no sense of timing.

The Nightingale’s Song

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 08 Jan 2000 17:55:59 +0000

This short story has since been revised and republished.

Where the Hearts Are

Scott Matthewman — Sat, 23 Oct 1999 17:55:05 +0000

Where do you keep your heart, love?
Is it free and allowed to roam?
I’ll show you where my heart is
And you shall be my home.

From morning to night I wander
From darkness to light I roam
But you are where my heart is
And you shall be my home…

As she waited for him to arrive, she hummed the tune he had taught her as a child. Fond tears welled up as she remembered those happiest of days.

The reunion itself started joyous enough for her. She wrapped her frail, ageing arms around his chest, pressing her cheek tightly against the warm wool of his jumper. He had changed so much since she had last seen him. The flowing white hair was much shorter, and now a slightly curly brown. As he whispered into her ear, “I’ve missed you”, she even detected a Celtic accent. Pulling him ever closer to her, she realised that what was once a frail, feeble body had become taut, even muscular. In fact, he was now so much younger in appearance than she was that she felt strange calling him ‘Grandfather’.

The happiness did not last. Looking up into his face for the first real time since his arrival, she noticed that the piercing grey of his eyes was diffused by sadness deeper than anything she had ever seen in him before.

His mouth opened and closed, opened and closed in an almost comical manner as he tried to say the words he needed to tell her. She could see the palpable fear of hurting her holding him back, strangling his words before they had the chance to emerge. Finally, painfully, he spat them out:

“I’m not your grandfather.”

Hours passed in the next few silent minutes. Later, when they had parted for the last time, Susan would look back on their life together. She would recall the minutiae that identified them as being of separate races, but which her mind had blocked out at the time - details her telepathic instincts had heard, but chosen to ignore. She would know, as she had always really known, that unlike him she was supremely mortal: death was to claim her in months rather than centuries.

However, all this was to come. For now, her only thought was of betrayal. Her life, her entire, miraculous, fantastical life, was a deceit. Her world was confined to the present, just as her body was confined to her wheelchair.

Eventually the Doctor found the courage to continue. “I… I need to tell you about your family,” he said through a voice of strangled tears. He saw Susan, her face turned away from him, clench her arthritic fists in a defiant, futile attempt to ignore him, but he continued. He had to, for himself as well as for her.

He told her of her parents, courtiers of King Louis. “Two of the bravest, kindest people I have ever met. When the revolution came, they tried to escape to your father’s native land, travelling separately in the hope of evading Robespierre’s spies. The Count — your father — entrusted the two of you to my care, so that I might escort you on the long trail. We got as far as Grenoble…”

“What happened to my mother?” asked Susan. The grey, sad eyes that met hers told her the answer.

After what seemed like hours of sobs, hugs and regrets, the Doctor continued his talk. “I tried to reach your father in St. Petersburg, but they were everywhere. I soon realised that it wasn’t Robespierre who was after us, but… They wanted you, you see — and there was no way I was going to let them do to you what they did to…” He could not complete the sentence. She took his hand in hers, and then pulled him gently towards her.

As they clung to each other, he told her of how he had taken her away from Earth, of the damage he had done to the TARDIS to stop them being traced. He did not tell her of the damage he had done to his own mind to prevent him repairing the ship, even when it had taken them back to the place it had all started… No, there were some things she should never know.

Ace had been busying herself while the Doctor had vacated the TARDIS. Their next port of call was going to be during the war, he had said, so she had rummaged around in the wardrobe for some suitable attire. She was still struggling with the hairnet when the Doctor returned. The great man suddenly seemed smaller than Ace remembered: weary, his face as grey as his eyes.

As he came through the double doors, she ran to him and flung her arms round his shoulders. Then, realising that her hard-edged reputation had taken another nosedive, she pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” she said. “It’s just that you looked so… lost.”

The Doctor looked back at her. For one awful moment, he could not see the face of the intelligent, brash teenager who had come to be his best friend, but only the screaming features of a woman being dragged from the carriage: an image soon lost among the faces of the animals that had taken her, beaten and raped and beaten again until there was nothing left.

He felt a soft hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Doctor,” Ace said softly. “You’re home now.” As she brushed away the tears rolling down his ashen cheeks, a gentle smile began to emerge, and in a hushed tone, he began to sing softly.

Where do you keep your heart, love?
Is it free and allowed to roam?
I’ll show you where my heart is
And you shall be my home.

From morning to night I wander
From darkness to light I roam
But you are where my heart is
And you shall be my home…

Genesis of Despair

Scott Matthewman — Wed, 18 Aug 1999 19:58:42 +0000

Despair had been trying to ensnare her nemesis for aeons. Now she had hit on the perfect plan. A quick manipulation of a backwards little planet (whose inhabitants were far too up themselves for her liking) and the plan was in place. How ironic — that the bringer of hope would trap himself in her realm by his own hand…

Through the mirror, she watched.

With delight, she saw him raise the two wires, bring them closer together and…

The Doctor stopped. “Do I have that right?”

Blast. She nearly had him in her realm, and now the moment was passed.

Time For Bed (Boing!)

Scott Matthewman — Wed, 21 Jul 1999 19:52:28 +0000

“Wheeeee!” squealed Jo as the Magic Roundabout span. “This Land of Fiction is fun!”

“Watch out!” cried the Doctor, as Ermintrude stampeded through the garden.

Her distress’ source was soon apparent. Imhotep and the remainder of the cast of The Mummy ran amok. A eunuch servant jumped piggyback onto Florence, causing her great discomfort.

The Doctor muttered a limerick under his breath several times. Whispering it into the culprit’s ear, the ferocity subsided into laughter. He jumped down - to Florence’s relief.

“How did you do it, Doctor?” asked Jo.

“Simple. I rehearsed the hilarity of the neuter on Flo.”