Once more my grand designs took me to the very cusp of dark victory. Once more I could almost taste the sweet taste of victory. Once more it was snatched away at the last second, this time by an unfortunate incident with a miniature schnauzer.
Therefore I once more find myself having to review the latest misadventure of my younger self from the comfort of my leather bound arm chair.
My preview notes from Cawley inform me that this episode is written by Mr Gatiss and is titled Night Terrors. They’re going to try and scare me are they? I wonder how they plan on scaring the oncoming storm, the thing that the monsters are scared of? They won’t find it easy.
A child. They’ve let a child on the set. I do hope it doesn’t join the TARDIS crew, I’d hate to see him abandoned in war torn London or blown up on a Mondasian Space Craft…
“Needs a Doctor?” Really, Mr Gatiss? That’s the best line you could conjure to introduce the Doctor into proceedings? Oh dear.
Anyway, the Doctor and his band of hangers-on arrive in what he describes as the “scariest place in the universe”. That’ll be Paisley then. Actually looking at these tower blocks reminds me of Paradise Towers, but as I’ve been told that we don’t talk about Series 24, we’ll wisely move on.
Actually I feel I must pass comment on the tone of the episode; it’s really rather deliciously dark. When I inherit the title role of this show I think I shall use this director quite extensively.
And talking of dark, Rory manages to impress me yet again. Last week he was quite happily punching Hitler repeatedly in the face, this week he’s giving a little boy the heeby jeebies. I approve.
“He hates clowns.” At last something myself and my eleventh self can agree on. I can’t stand clowns. Haven’t been able to ever since 1984. Please don’t ask, it’s rather a touchy subject.
As this episode progresses I find myself drawn further and further in, it’s wonderfully dark and chilling in all the right ways. As my light weight counterpart attempts to open the cupboard I actually send my Doritos flying as Armitage chooses that moment to drop from the top of my chair into my shoulder. Damned cat.