Well, frankly, that's outrageous!

When I was little, I owned 'The Doctor Who Dinousaur Book', in which the Seventh Doctor (played by Tom Baker) travelled in his TARDIS back to prehistoric Earth to introduce the reader to the wonders of the terrible lizards (which is what the word 'dinosaur' roughly translates into in English). I loved that book and even put the poster inside on my bedroom wall, although, having Tom Baker grinning down at you at night whilst surrounded by rampaging dinos is not conducive to a good night's sleep. Cheers, Doctor.

The book was educational rather than purely fictional and DW, as a series, was originally intended to be both but settled firmly into the latter pretty quickly. There certainly wasn't much in the way of education in 'Dinosaurs On A Spaceship' - the first proper episode of Doctor Who I have seen with dinosaurs in it, having never viewed 'Invasion Of The Dinosaurs', a DW ep with Jon Pertwee from the 70's. When Matt Smith's Doctor excitedly uttered the episode's actual title in the trailer at the end of the previous week's cracking 'Asylum Of The Daleks', I did not share his passion. It seemed liked an episode with such an outrageously obvious title (more obvious even than 'Asylum Of The Daleks') might be a rare mis-step for the Steven Moffat produced series, where nothing should be taken at face value. Even bearing that in mind, 'Dinosaurs On A Spaceship' still sounds like the working title of an episode dreamt up by throwing two juxtaposing words together to create a story idea. Yet, it did inherently beg the admittedly intriguing question of how the hell did dinosaurs get on a spaceship?

Thankfully, writer Chris Chibnall answered in spades by crafted a rollicking story that not only gives us the promised terrible lizards on a starcraft but also Rory's Dad (Mark Williams, Ron Weasley's Dad in Harry Potter), a not-so-terrible lizard in the form of cutie Triceratops, 'Tricie', a thouroughly despicable space pirate (ably played by David Bradley, another Potter alumnus) and a pleasantly-surprising-but-obvious-when-you-think-about-it cameo from The Silurians. Then there's Mitchell & Webb as two rusty but deadly giant robots.

Whilst not as thrilling or dramatic as 'Asylum', Chibnall's episode still has an exciting story, slickly told, which does, if I'm honest bear some resemblance to last week's, with The Doctor and co travelling inside a darkened facility where dangerous creatures run amok, whilst an armed force waits outside to blow it all up. However, there is more of a countdown here, along with some very cool ideas. An engineroom that looks like a beach on a (wave-powered) ship that is altogether one of DW's best spacecraft designs of recent years, which must be challenge for this show , as well as some snappy interplay between the many characters. 'Well, frankly, that's outrageous.' The Doctor chides Rory after discovering the latter's Dad has hitched a ride in the TARDIS. 'You think you can just bring your Dad along without asking. This isn't a taxi service, you know.'
'You materialised around us!' Rory shoots back.
'Oh! Well, that's alright then...!'
It's a testament to Chibnall's skill that, regardless of how many extra companions The Doctor accumulates here ('A gang. Yes! Never had a gang before'. The Doc enthuses, as if to then add that, like bow ties and Stetsons, gangs are cool.) Amy remains chief among them. Now the Ponds' marriage is back on track, Amy's understandably dour mood from last week has given way to a lighter one and she also shows some impressive leadership skills, even towards Queen Nefertiti herself. As with 'Asylum'; we see more shades to Amy's character, here, alongside her usual ballsiness ('I'm worth at least two men!' She asserts at one point.) Given that Karen Gillan is leaving the show at Xmas, it's her last chance to really show what she's got. Her imminent departure is possibly foreshadowed by her throwaway line to the Doc at one point about his being present at her death. Or her at his. After Amy's narrow escape from being Daleked last week and that line in this episode, could her potential demise be this series' crack in time-style running theme?

So, bravo, Chris Chibnall for creating a worthy follow up to Steven Moffat's brilliant series opener. But did you really have to kill Tricie?

London 2012 Paralympics

After two weeks of watching sexy, able bodies do their sporting thing in the Olympics, I felt challenged, in a good way, by the Paralympics Opening Ceremony, as armies of wheelchair and crutch-bound Paralympians paraded around the same stadium in which Bolt, Ennis, Farah, et al had won Olympic glory. The gigantic statue of a disabled pregnant woman at the end of the ceremony really got me. Although not as epic or uplifting as Danny Boyle’s Olympics prologue, the Paras’ O.C. generated positive exposure for disabled folk in a massive way, as well as presenting them as being as worth watching and supporting as their able-bodied counterparts, far removed from the butt of jokes made by animated US comedy shows like Family Guy and South Park.

Yet, whilst the 2012 Paras were reportedly the most popular yet, could they really have the same impact that their big brother had? Despite being in the same arenas...it just didn’t feel the same, or have the same excitement as the Olympics. Roping in Olympics presenter Clare Balding to work up enthusiasm, as well as having a disabled presenter interview David Cameron and Boris Johnson about why we should stay tuned didn’t quite convince me. Broadcaster Channel 4’s constant adverts disrupted the flow, too.

So, despite having viewed hardly any events in the Paralympics’ first few days, acquiring a day pass still excited me with the prospect of seeing the Olympic Park, as well as some Team GB action. Our passes allowed us to enter certain venues without paying extra. I just hoped it wouldn’t rain.

It turned out that I was really being a bit of a miserable git, as I discovered as I walked into the Park with my three companions and thousands of other spectators. Happy people with pink tabards cheerfully greeted us, some of whom through loudhailers from Tennis umpire-type chairs, Catching sight of the Aquatics Centre and the Olympic Stadium with my own eyes was breathtaking, especially in such thankfully glorious weather.

My photographic obsession bloomed instantly and there was lots of camera-candy. I’m known for being snap-happy, to put it mildly but today, I took it a bit far. Yes, this will be the only day I visit London 2012, if not the only Olympics I ever attend and so it should be recorded for posterity but there’s a lot to be said for just living in the moment and using the natural camera in my head, where the images stay forever. What moments there were to be lived in at the Paralympics. This was a day with much life and much to make one feel alive.

Our first event was a Preliminary game of Seven-A-Side-Football between Argentina and The Netherlands in the Riverbank Arena. Although happy that my day pass had already got me into an event within an hour of arriving at the Park, I wasn’t ecstatic about it, especially since Team GB weren’t playing. Still, I realised that this might be the only event I got to see all day (and it’s only something like the Paralympics that would actually get me watching a live footie match), so I decided to root for the Dutch, since I had some good Dutch friends at university and that was more of a connection than I had with Argentina. What immediately struck me was that all the players seemed rather able-bodied for Paralympians, tearing and tumbling about the pitch. I later discovered, to my shameful ignorance, that a Paralympian can also have ‘intellectual’ and, of course, sight disabilities, too. I didn’t know which classification the footballers were in, since we missed the start of the match when they reveal all this. Anyway, this was my first live event of London 2012! Hooray!

The Netherlands won in the end, raising the loudest of many cheers from their raucous fans, whose excitement I failed to generate, finding more pleasure in the sight of the Olympic nations’ flags posted along one side of the Arena, above the seats that had borne the bottoms of various representatives of those countries throughout the Games. Also catching my eye was the reflection of the sun in the giant Arena lights making them look switched on.

Next, it was on to the Stadium, or at least the gardens surrounding it, which contained various flower displays from local schools, along with a giant Mandeville – the cycloptic Paralympics mascot – with a union flag pattern all over him. Stood running on the spot atop a pedestal, his arms were held in place by two metal supports that actually made him look like he was skiing. Maybe they should save this version for the Winter Olympics?

Resuming our journey to the Basketball Arena in the hope of catching the USA vs. Team GB match, we were distracted by a large bandstand resembling like the mouth of a massive basking shark that I only wish could have swallowed up the musicians within, who hardly set the disparate crowd alight. Other music we saw around the Park was better, such as the Marching Band glimpsed shortly after we came in. It surprised me how much non-sporting entertainment there was to be had, enough to spend the whole day enjoying without watching any games at all.

Finally, we found the mighty basketball arena and, after a fraught few minutes spent searching for the end of the queue, quickly made our way in to ascend the mountainous stalls and find some seats. Lean back to far on the steps and one could find oneself toppling back onto the court!

The expectant atmosphere in the Arena was heightened by a sprightly wheelchair-bound presenter with a shock of red hair, who interviewed various spectators and got the rest of us doing ‘YMCA’ before the teams came on. An American commentator introduced the athletes with a lively voice, which didn’t match his somewhat worn facial expression, giving the impression that he may have been doing this for quite a few games.

I myself was excited about my first game of Wheelchair Rugby, AKA ‘Murderball’, and, although it fails to live up to its informal title, it is pretty rough stuff. On comedian Adam Hills’ Channel 4 Paralympics show, ‘The Last Leg’ (a sort of informal version of BBC’s ‘Olympics Tonight’), there’s a section called ‘Is It OK...?’ where questions from viewers are read out, like ‘is it OK...to enjoy Wheelchair Rugby for the players bashing into each other?’ The prosthetic-limbed Hill’s answer was, yes, it is and I agree, as goals are scored every few minutes during the roughly 90-minute-long match, they soon become passé for a dilettante sports fan like me, particularly since rock music, usually Queen, is blasted throughout the venue every time someone scores – ninety-eight times, in this case. Now, I like Queen but hearing ‘We Will Rock You’ is not my favourite song and hearing it so many times is overkill. I got more enjoyment out of watching the players hurtle their Dalek-like chairs together with vicious abandon. Unsurprisingly, players often found themselves thrashing about on the floor in their upturned chariots, relying on two able bodied men to dart onto the court with a thin blue mat which they heaved the thankful player onto, allowing them to continue playing, whilst the men high-fived each other and darted off again.

Team GB started off well, scoring the first few goals but creating such a poor defence later on that they ended up being soundly thrashed 56-44. This was not for lack of crowd support, as, naturally for a home game, they were well catered for, even down to a large crowd of women donning bright red wigs to match the hair of Team GB’s Kylie Stiles. One old man behind me managed a pair of red ear defenders but did not seem to feel the same passion as Ms Stiles’ fans.

Not long after, we wended our way back to the Riverside Arena for another footie match that was also something of a rematch, as it once more pitted Team Great Britain against our old rivals, the US of A. We managed to find some seats fairly high up but also in direct sunlight, since, unlike the Basketball Arena, this one was open-topped, resulting in me draping my jacket over my head and eventually annoying people by moving to another side of the Arena, where there were less people and I could only feel the heat on one side of my face. I became distracted by a large family below me, where the mother spent quite a while turned away from the game as she tried to co-ordinate her five children’s efforts to apply sun cream. Perhaps shamefully, I found this more entertaining than the game itself, until GB scored, of course. Thankfully, there are fewer goals in Seven-A-Side Football than Murderball, so the rock music was less frequent. Plus, we won, which was indeed a plus.

Before moving seats, I had noticed the players kicking up a strange substance on the blue pitch. ‘Is that sand?’ I inquired of my companion. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘it’s water’. ‘Why would they put water on the pitch?’ I asked innocently. ‘To stop it getting sticky in the heat and to help soften the blow if the players fall.’ A man in front of us answered wisely. ‘Aha,’ I responded, ‘that makes more sense than sand.’ ‘Yeah.’ He agreed. After all, who ever heard of blue sand?

After purchasing souvenirs in the Megastore, we made our way to the exit, stopping in front of the Stadium for a few shots of me emulating Mo Farah’s famous celebratory ‘Mobot’ pose (which I now reclaim as the ‘Markbot’). Well, I did once win a race at a school sports day about 15 years ago, so this was a very belated celebration of a rare moment of sporting glory for me.

As we left the Olympic Park, I felt a mixture of tiredness, sadness but mainly happiness at being a part of something special that, initially, I had only felt indifference and maybe even a little disparaging towards. Having experienced some of the action firsthand, I would go home and enjoy what remained of the 2012 Paralympics. I hadn’t become a total sports convert, in the sense that I would continue watching it after London 2012 but I had been given a stronger taste of why people love it so much and the kind of community spirit the Games generated that makes me glad to be a Brit. When my (potential) children and their children ask if I went to London 2012, I will be happy to tell them that I did.



Doctor Who: Asylum of the Daleks - episode review (Spoilers!)



The last time we had a proper story featuring the Doctor’s oldest foes in Doctor Who was the World War Two-set Victory Of The Daleks, during Matt Smith’s first series as the Doctor in 2010. It was notable for reinventing the evil armoured mutants, first, as tea tray carrying, Union Flag bearing, camouflaged servants to Winston Churchill. They then turned out to be heralds of the new ‘Paradigm’ - the sleeker, shinier, multicoloured evolution of the Doctor’s oldest enemies. We saw one or two of these cameo in subsequent episodes but, after their overuse during Russell T Davies’ tenure as Who Executive Producer, during which time, they got a two-part story every series, current showrunner Steven Moffat wisely chose to give the Daleks a backseat...until now.

With Asylum Of The Daleks, the opening episode of DW’s new run, The Moff brings the mad mutants back en masse, as well as introducing us to their idea of hell – a sanatorium for the individuals that even the Daleks can’t control. Problem is, someone’s crashed a ship into the planetoid on which the Asylum is built, potentially allowing its residents to escape. Understandably, the other Daleks don’t want this but are afraid to venture there themselves, deciding that this is a job for the Doctor and his companions.

After the Doc’s capture by the Daleks, we find Amy Pond (Karen Gillan) in a modelling session - complete with the prescient words ‘LOVE’ and ‘HATE’ written on her knuckles and a frizzy hairstyle reminiscent of Amy’s daughter, River Song – interrupted by her husband Rory (Arthur Darvill) with divorce papers for her to sign. The Doctor kidnapped by his nemeses? Amy and Rory divorcing? This is Serious Doctor Who, no messing about. None of that ‘timey-wimey’ malarky, just a straightforward, linear story, with some serious drama between the Ponds as they sort out their marital problems. Those words on Karen Gillan’s knuckles coming into play as Amy struggles to overcome a particularly nasty Dalek weapon. Gillan is on real fine form here. Thankfully, too, composer Murray Gold’s ‘Doctor’s Theme’ - more ubiquitous than the Daleks in the past for being used in virtually every Smith episode to heighten the drama and thereby dampening it - seems to be missing from this one.

A truly impressive episode, but not without niggles. The Time War resulting in the effective destruction of both Time Lords and Daleks seems to have been utterly forgotten here, with thousands of the robotic mutants in their own “Parliament”. Where did they all come from? Why are they mostly the same design used for the last few years, the old guard that the new Paradigm (of which there are only a handful here) supposedly regard as detestably inferior to the point of extermination? Perhaps the fact that they’ve developed a parliament means they’re less of an empire now? After the promotion for this episode promised the return of several Dalek designs from Who history, it was disappointing that most of them, even in the Asylum itself, were all the same design, albeit in various stages of degradation. Plus, it didn’t make sense how the Daleks just ‘forgot’ the Doctor after one character deletes his record from their collective memory banks, as if they are all machines, rather than aliens living inside machines. Their actual organic memories wouldn’t fail them, surely?

That ‘one character’ is the episode’s biggest surprise, the improbably named Oswin Oswald (Jenna-Louise Coleman) – the Doc’s forthcoming new companion (once Karen and Arthur have left), who quickly proves herself by aiding the Doctor and the Ponds through the treacherous Asylum. She’s a little too clever for her own good but has that pretty smile wiped off her face when the Doc sadly reveals that, rather than being, as she thought, the lone survivor of that crashed ship, she was actually caught by Daleks who, despite their knackered state, converted her in every way except her genius intellect. Oswin’s soufflé-baking, opera-playing environment is her own fantasy, concocted to keep herself sane. Outwardly, she’s all-Dalek. Yet, how is it that the apparently imaginary opera music can be transmitted to the Dalek Parliament ship for them to discover Oswin? Never mind. Oswin’s human/Dalek predicament is a classic case of Moffat writing characters into a corner from which they cannot possibly escape but for some outrageous deus ex machina that he will reveal in good time. ‘Remember me.’ Oswin tells The Doctor, and us, with a brief, knowing look to camera...