Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“WHAT I DID ON MY HOLIDAYS BY OMO ESOSA – THE DOCTOR MEETS NIGERIA'S SHARPEST BARBER-IN-WAITING”

What I Did On My Holidays By Omo Esosa is a delightful surprise prequel to The Story & the Engine, Season 2’s episode by Inua Ellams. True to form, Ellams injects the short story with warmth, cultural detail, and a strong sense of voice. Framed as a school report written by a young Omo Esosa—the Doctor’s future barber friend—it’s both an evocative period piece and a clever bit of character groundwork for the forthcoming televised story.

Set in Nigeria in 1965, the tale centres on Omo’s summer visit to his grandparents, told in the playful, occasionally chaotic voice of a bright eleven-year-old. It’s a masterclass in tone: charmingly naive yet perceptive, brimming with the character’s personality. The piece feels genuinely like it was written by a child—right down to the refusal to write out his grandfather’s swearing “because I will get an F.”

SUNSHINE, OIL PUMPS, AND REBELLIOUS FRIENDSHIPS

The early sections of the story capture the simple joys and frustrations of rural childhood: heat, boredom, relatives who scold, and the thrill of unexpected adventure. Omo’s bond with Blue—a fiercely independent girl with a revolutionary streak—is a highlight. Their exploration of newly installed oil pumps and their moral outrage at the environmental destruction they cause gives the story an emotional and political spine. Their decision to sabotage the oil operation is impulsive and heroic in the way only kids can be—full of fire, consequence-be-damned.

Ellams draws the reader into the local rhythms and textures of Nigeria with vivid ease. The dialogue captures regional flavour without caricature, using dialect and phrasing that rings true while remaining accessible. There’s a wonderful attention to place and people—Omo’s family, the gossiping adults, the threatening new industrial presence—all filtered through a child’s perspective.

ENTER THE DOCTOR, STAGE LEFT (WITH A FIRE EXTINGUISHER)

Just when things boil over—literally—with the oil pumps catching fire and the forest at risk, in comes the Doctor. It’s a classic entrance, understated but vivid: the Doctor as emergency responder, chaos-wrangler, and cosmic interloper all at once. The brief interaction between the two characters is instantly engaging, and tellingly, Omo doesn’t fall head over heels in awe. His scepticism, even in the face of this strange new figure, is a defining character note.

This moment sets up their future dynamic wonderfully—Omo is clearly no pushover, even at eleven. His questions and doubts hint at the kind of adult he’ll become: curious, strong-willed, and unafraid to challenge authority, even Time Lords. It’s a smart way to give a supporting character from the show a compelling origin that enriches the episode to come.

STORYTELLING ABOUT STORIES AND ENGINES

There are scattered thematic breadcrumbs here for The Story & the Engine, with mentions of storytelling, technology, and the forces that drive progress—or destruction. Whether these are direct links or spiritual motifs remains to be seen, but it lends the short a pleasant sense of narrative foreshadowing. It never feels like required reading, but it deepens the series' world in a meaningful way.

A SHORT STORY WITH BIG HEART

This may be a short piece, but it manages to combine world-building, character development, historical texture, and a hint of sci-fi flair in just a few pages. It’s also notable for how authentically it centres Nigerian voices, history, and culture—without leaning on alien invaders or external threats. The dangers here are all-too-human: pollution, neglect, and the sidelining of young voices. That makes the Doctor’s arrival all the more poignant—a signal that stories like Omo’s matter in the grand scheme of things.

📝 VERDICT: 83/100

What I Did On My Holidays By Omo Esosa is a brilliant little gem—a pitch-perfect prequel that feels both like a standalone tale and a vital piece of the larger Season 2 puzzle. Inua Ellams brings his signature warmth and lyricism to the text, capturing the voice of a Nigerian schoolboy with uncanny accuracy and charm. With rebellious kids, ecological sabotage, a dramatic fire, and the Doctor’s surprise arrival, it’s a fast and engaging read that enriches the upcoming episode while standing proudly on its own. Here's hoping we see more of young Omo’s adventures—or at least hear him brag about them while cutting the Doctor’s hair.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“THE WITCHFINDERS – A TRIAL BY MUD AND MONARCH”

The Witchfinders, the final historical tale of Series 11, takes the Fam to 17th-century Lancashire—though not by design. Aiming for Queen Elizabeth I's coronation, the Doctor misfires and lands in the misty village of Bilehurst Cragg, just in time for a grim witch trial. From the very first dunking, it’s clear this is a story unafraid to deal with historical horror, but it does so with a tone that deftly balances the chilling and the camp.

There’s a familiar structure here: an eerie period setting, a real historical issue (witch hunts), and an alien twist hiding beneath it all. But this time, the episode opens in media res, with the TARDIS crew already on the scene—making for a punchy start as the Doctor watches in horror as an innocent woman drowns. That visceral injustice immediately gives the Doctor her mission: stop more senseless executions.

THE FAM DIVIDES TO CONQUER

This is another strong showing for Team TARDIS as they scatter to investigate. Ryan and Graham get paired up with none other than King James himself, fast becoming unwilling witchfinders. Meanwhile, Yaz and the Doctor stay close to Willa, the traumatised granddaughter of the first victim, as strange things begin stirring in the ground—and in the nearby bog.

There’s good thematic material here, especially as the Doctor and Yaz help Willa find courage in the face of abuse from Mistress Savage and her ilk. It’s a reflection on power and patriarchy, and the episode doesn’t shy away from highlighting how women were demonised, oppressed, and silenced—something the Doctor herself experiences when King James dismisses her authority solely because she’s a woman. Her biting line—“If I were still a bloke, I could get on with sorting this out!”—lands well, both funny and furious.

ALAN CUMMING’S MAJESTIC MADNESS

Alan Cumming is the undisputed star here, delivering a flamboyant, scene-devouring performance as King James VI and I. He’s pompous, vain, paranoid—and utterly entertaining. Whether he’s flirting with Ryan, brandishing a Bible, or monologuing about his tragic childhood, Cumming keeps one foot in farce and the other in genuine pathos. It’s a knowingly camp portrayal, but it still lets the darkness in—particularly when James allows his insecurities to drive acts of cruelty.

Siobhan Finneran also impresses as Mistress Becka Savage, the puritanical landowner obsessed with rooting out witchcraft. She’s intense, authoritative, and deeply superstitious, making her eventual fate all the more satisfying. Her refusal to accept reason or compassion until it’s too late marks her as a classic Doctor Who villain in a very human guise—at least until she’s possessed by a mud-dwelling alien.

MUDDY WATERS AND MORAX MADNESS

The sci-fi twist here is pure Classic Who: an alien race (the Morax) imprisoned beneath a tree on Savage’s land, accidentally released when she cuts it down. The Morax infect her with their queen’s consciousness and begin animating the corpses of drowned villagers as mud zombies. It’s grotesque, pulpy fun, and the makeup and prosthetics sell the horror well.

The zombies are classic Who monsters in the best way—simple, creepy, and bolstered by strong visuals. The reveal of Becka as the possessed queen is predictable, but effective. The action ramps up for a fast-paced finale, with the Doctor about to be drowned herself before escaping and rallying the team to re-imprison the Morax. It’s a slightly rushed resolution, but still delivers a satisfying payoff with some spooky visuals and sharp dialogue.

TRIALS, THEMES, AND TARDIS TRUTHS

The story weaves historical commentary through its sci-fi fabric with admirable clarity. The systemic misogyny of the era, the role of fear and superstition in controlling communities, and the danger of unchecked authority are all touched upon. The Doctor’s gender plays a key role in how she’s perceived and treated—adding nuance to Jodie Whittaker’s performance and giving Series 11 one of its most thematically rich moments.

Willa’s arc—from timid bystander to someone who betrays the Doctor under duress, only to find the strength to stand up for what’s right—adds moral complexity. Her fear is understandable, even if it makes her momentarily unlikeable. Her eventual redemption feels earned, tying into the episode’s larger message about courage in the face of conformity.

DRESSED TO KILL (AND TRIAL)

The production design, once again, excels. The costumes are gorgeously detailed, and the foggy, damp visuals of rural Lancashire evoke a fittingly grim atmosphere. Whether it’s the mossy village square or the sinister ducking pond, the setting feels lived-in and authentically oppressive.

📝 VERDICT: 83/100

The Witchfinders is a dark, theatrical, and often hilarious slice of Doctor Who that combines the show’s historical tradition with supernatural scares and some pointed gender commentary. Alan Cumming is an unforgettable King James, both absurd and oddly sympathetic, and the mud-zombie Morax offer a delightfully gory twist. While the ending feels a touch rushed and the sci-fi element isn’t as deeply explored as it might’ve been, the episode holds together through atmosphere, strong performances, and a sharp script. It’s one of Series 11’s more effective blends of history and horror—where the real evil isn’t the aliens, but the fear and ignorance of people.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time! 

“KERBLAM! - WHEN AMAZON GOES BOOM”

Season 11’s Kerblam! is one of the more overtly satirical episodes of the Chibnall era, lobbing a parcel-shaped grenade at online retail giants like Amazon while also diving into deeper discussions about automation, worker surveillance, and corporate responsibility. Writer Pete McTighe sets his sights on late-stage capitalism, wrapping up some very modern anxieties in a shiny sci-fi package—literally.

The episode begins with a delightfully odd moment: the TARDIS is chased through space by a delivery robot, who beams aboard to deliver a fez the Doctor ordered ages ago (in a cheeky nod to her Eleventh self). But the delivery comes with a plea for help hidden inside—leading Team TARDIS to the moon-based warehouse of Kerblam, where they all go undercover as workers to investigate the distress call.

JOBS FOR THE FAM (AND A FEW FOR THE PLOT)

The set-up is neat and allows the Fam to split up across various departments to gather clues. Yaz bonds with Dan, a kind-hearted fatherly figure who quickly becomes protective of her. Ryan gets stuck with some gags and a conveyor belt sequence. Graham ends up with mop duty but also meets the awkward Charlie, whose crush on bubbly co-worker Kira becomes central to the story. As for the Doctor—she floats in and out of the action, occasionally bouncing ideas off her friends but not always feeling like the commanding force she should be.

The supporting cast shine more than the regulars this time around. Kira is charming and sweet, making her eventual fate all the more impactful. Julie Hesmondhalgh brings quirky warmth as Judy Maddox, the “Head of People” who seems to genuinely care about her staff, and there's intrigue in her balancing act between loyalty to the company and discomfort with its direction. Meanwhile, Mr Slade is your standard grumpy manager type—uncooperative, suspicious, and all about profit margins.

A VILLAIN IN THE WAREHOUSE

For a good chunk of the episode, Kerblam! plays like a whodunit in a fluorescent-lit, overly surveilled workplace. The tension is mild, mostly carried by the eerie presence of the Kerblam Men—robots with flashing eyes and fixed smiles, constantly looming in the background. Their design is brilliantly creepy, continuing Doctor Who’s legacy of memorable robo-antagonists.

Then comes the twist: it’s not the management or the company that’s killing employees—it’s Charlie, the maintenance man with a grudge against automation. He’s secretly turned the system’s efficiency to his advantage, planning to distribute deadly bubble wrap to millions of customers, hoping the mass casualties will spark outrage and force a return to human labour. It’s bold, it’s bonkers, and it’s arguably one twist too far.

BUBBLE WRAP OF DEATH (NO, REALLY)

There’s something both hilarious and horrifying about weaponised bubble wrap. It’s a sly nod to Classic Who, where bubble wrap was often used to represent alien skin (The Ark in Space, anyone?). Here, it’s lethally literal: pop one bubble and boom—total disintegration. It’s daft, yes, but in a way that’s charmingly in line with Doctor Who’s legacy of turning the mundane into the monstrous.

The moral murkiness of the ending, however, is a bit harder to swallow. The Doctor criticises Charlie for his methods—fair enough—but seems oddly sympathetic to Kerblam’s management, despite their track record of poor worker treatment. The episode appears to champion “a balance between people and automation,” but without pushing the company to make any meaningful reforms. Compared to earlier anti-corporate stories like The Sun Makers or The Green Death, this feels toothless—more corporate shrug than corporate takedown.

LOOKING THE PART? NOT QUITE

Visually, Kerblam! is one of the season’s weaker efforts. The warehouse set lacks personality, echoing the drab sterility of RTD-era episodes like The Long Game. The lighting in the TARDIS is especially unflattering, with murky hues and awkward framing that rob it of the magic seen in earlier Series 11 stories like Rosa or Demons of the Punjab. A strange camera wobble pops up occasionally, adding little other than distraction.

The conveyor belt chase with Yaz, Ryan, and Charlie is an energetic highlight—reminiscent of Monsters, Inc. with its endless rows of packages zooming past—but the obvious green screen effects undercut the thrill.

A SYSTEMIC PROBLEM WITH SYSTEMS

While Kerblam! tackles relevant themes—labour rights, workplace surveillance, and technological dependence—it can’t quite commit to a viewpoint. The story flirts with rebellion but ultimately circles back to status quo approval. Charlie, the only character who actively fights back, is framed as an extremist whose actions are both morally and practically indefensible. It’s a message that could be seen as pro-corporation, or at least disappointingly neutral in the face of real-world injustice.

Worse still, Ryan’s dyspraxia—so central in The Ghost Monument—is completely forgotten, stripping away what could’ve been a meaningful commentary on disability and employment. Graham is underused, Yaz gets more attention but still lacks real development, and Ryan’s role is little more than comic relief.

📝 VERDICT: 64/100

Kerblam! is a mixed package. It offers sharp satire wrapped in a glossy sci-fi setting, with memorable robot designs and an enjoyably twisty plot. But its social critique doesn’t land as strongly as it could, and its odd moral message—where the killer is an idealist and the megacorp gets a pass—feels muddled. The visuals are flat, the regulars are sidelined, and the tone veers from fun to frustrating. Still, it's a well-paced, inventive adventure with some entertaining moments and a killer concept in explosive bubble wrap. Just don’t expect it to deliver much nuance.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“WHO-DINI?: THE MAGICAL MURDER MYSTERY WITH A DOCTOR'S VANISHING ACT”

Who-Dini? offers one of the most inventive setups of the Star Tales anthology—a whodunit set in 1920s Chicago that unfolds across multiple incarnations of the Doctor without the narrative ever breaking stride. The first half of the mystery is tackled by one Doctor (implied to be Twelve), who believes they’ve solved the case, only for Thirteen to swoop in seconds later (from the bystanders’ perspective) and prove otherwise. It’s a clever, timey-wimey conceit that turns the Doctor into a kind of relay baton passed across regenerations.

The central hook? Harry Houdini, the legendary escape artist, is accused of a series of brutal murders targeting fellow magicians. The Doctor, one of his long-standing (and oft-referenced) friends, drops in to clear his name and uncover the truth—because of course the Magician Murders aren’t being committed by a mere mortal. They’re the work of a shapeshifting alien once used as an unwilling assistant in magical illusions and now seeking vengeance against the showmen who enslaved him.

MAGIC, MURDER, AND METAPHOR

There’s a rich metaphor at play here, drawing clear parallels between magicians and the Doctor: both use disappearing boxes, sleight-of-hand tools, unpredictable personas, and assistants. It’s not subtle, but it’s satisfying. Houdini and the Doctor are spiritual cousins—showboaters with secrets, fiercely independent, yet ultimately guided by a strong moral compass (well, usually).

The story also explores the dark underbelly of showbiz with surprising nuance. Houdini, for all his charisma and legend, is shown as flawed and morally compromised, willingly using the alien creature as a tool for fame. Bess Houdini, meanwhile, emerges as the emotional heart of the tale, shown to be more compassionate than her husband—persuading the shapeshifter to adopt the form of a younger Houdini, not just to rekindle her lost youth, but to offer the creature kindness it has long been denied.

The alien itself is a tragic villain, enslaved by generations of magicians and now lashing out. The moral ambiguity here is well played: it’s killed, yes—but it was used and mistreated, and its eventual redemption comes through helping the Doctor save Houdini and Bess. That it gets through the story without punishment is debatable, but it reinforces Doctor Who’s tradition of compassion toward monsters with understandable motives.

TWO DOCTORS, ONE STORY – SORT OF

The biggest structural gimmick—having the same mystery tackled by two different incarnations of the Doctor—is inspired. Unfortunately, the execution is a little muddled. The first Doctor (intended to be Twelve) doesn't really sound like Twelve at all, with no distinctive voice or quirks to anchor him. Without foreknowledge, most readers wouldn’t be able to pin down which incarnation he’s supposed to be.

Thirteen fares slightly better. Her characterisation is shaky at first, but settles into something more recognisable by the end. She feels more “right” when she’s wrapping things up and delivering the emotional and thematic payoff. Her companions—Yaz, Ryan, and Graham—get just enough lines to feel accurate, though none of them have much to do beyond mild reactions.

MAGICIAN VS MOBSTER

The supposed “main villain,” a rival magician and mob boss named King, feels underwritten. He comes and goes with little impact, overshadowed by the more emotionally resonant alien shapeshifter. In fact, one could argue the real antagonist of the piece is the hubris of showmen like Houdini himself—willing to manipulate anything and anyone, including extraterrestrials, for the sake of applause.

WRITING THAT MISSES THE TRICK

While the ideas are solid and the plot offers more layers than expected, the prose occasionally stumbles. Dialogue sometimes clunks, especially in the early scenes, and there’s an overall stiffness to the narration that prevents the story from truly singing. Houdini is portrayed well—like Tesla in “Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror,” he’s a larger-than-life figure grounded by his humanity—but he occasionally veers toward cliché.

Still, it’s nice to see Doctor Who finally deliver a proper Houdini team-up after so many offhand references over the years, from Planet of the Spiders to The Witchfinders. The setting—1920s Chicago, all smoke, alleyways, and vaudeville theatres—adds to the noirish mystery vibe, and the magic-themed killings give the whole story a bit of pulp flair.

📝 VERDICT: 60/100

Who-Dini? is a mixed bag with an inspired concept, emotionally resonant themes, and a satisfyingly tragic monster—but hampered by inconsistent character voices and uneven prose. The split-Doctor setup is clever, the Houdini partnership long overdue, and the alien twist classic Doctor Who. While it doesn’t quite stick the landing, it’s a compelling reminder that behind every great trick lies a cost. A flawed but fascinating tale of magic, murder, and monsters in the wings.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“THE HIGHLANDERS: THE BIRTH OF JAMIE IN A DYING GENRE”

The Highlanders is something of a landmark in Doctor Who history—not because it breaks new ground, but precisely because it doesn’t. It marks the final "pure historical" story of the classic era until Black Orchid in 1982, and serves as a bridge between the show’s early educational roots and its evolution into more science-fiction-driven narratives. It also introduces a certain Jacobite piper by the name of Jamie McCrimmon—one of the longest-serving and most beloved companions in the show’s history. That’s a lot of historical weight to carry for a four-part serial that's completely missing from the archives.

TO CULLODEN AND BEYOND

The story starts strong with an engaging setting: the aftermath of the Battle of Culloden, where the defeated Jacobites are being hunted by Redcoats. It’s a grim historical backdrop, but the tone quickly shifts as the TARDIS crew are captured and thrown into a web of prisons, slave ships, and legal trickery. There's a certain romp quality here that jars with the historical tragedy around them, and that tonal mismatch is never quite resolved.

The first episode struggles under the weight of character introductions—an issue made worse when watching a recon with few surviving visuals. Keeping track of who’s who becomes a chore, and even a strong cliffhanger (the Doctor and Ben about to be hanged; Polly and Kirsty falling into a pit) doesn’t quite lift it above the murk of confusion.

THE SECOND DOCTOR TAKES CENTRE STAGE

The real joy of The Highlanders lies in watching Patrick Troughton settle into the role. This is the first serial where his Doctor feels fully formed: playful, cunning, and full of disguises. Whether he’s masquerading as a doddering German physician or donning drag to outwit his enemies, the Second Doctor turns deception into an artform. It’s a far cry from the gruff, irritable First Doctor, and it sets the tone for how the character will evolve over the decades.

Troughton’s chemistry with Michael Craze’s Ben is already well-developed, and the pair make a fun team, even if the script doesn’t give Ben much to do. Their dynamic foreshadows the “Doctor and best mate” relationships that become a staple of the show.

JAMIE JOINS THE CREW

Frazer Hines makes a confident debut as Jamie, even if his actual joining of the TARDIS crew feels abrupt and underwritten. He’s given a solid amount of screen time alongside Ben, and while he doesn’t immediately stand out, his likability and loyalty are established early. It’s no wonder he quickly became a fixture.

PLOTLESS WANDERING AND DISGUISED ESCAPISM

The actual plot of The Highlanders is thin and repetitive. Characters are captured, escape, are recaptured, escape again, and so on. There are slave ships, taverns, jails, secret documents, legal wrangling, and lots of cloak-and-dagger antics, but none of it really builds to a crescendo. The entire final episode takes place on a ship, and with no moving footage, the climactic battle is left entirely to the imagination—a battle of sound over spectacle.

The highlight, again, is the Doctor’s antics. His scenes with Solicitor Grey, particularly the one where he hides the man in a cupboard, are delightful. His theatrical dress-up helps paper over the cracks of an otherwise forgettable historical.

A CAST OF FORGETTABLE FOES

The supporting cast does little to elevate the material. Polly and Kirsty spend most of the serial plotting and scheming on the sidelines, with Polly’s storyline relying heavily on manipulating the hapless Algernon Ffinch. It’s not her strongest outing. Ffinch himself is a forgettable presence, despite a slight redemption arc (think Norrington in Pirates of the Caribbean). Captain Trask is a cookie-cutter slaver, more memorable than Pike from The Smugglers, but only just. Then there’s Solicitor Grey and his snivelling assistant Perkins (who reminds me of Smee from Peter Pan), who veer close to pantomime.

PRODUCTION VALUE IN A VISUAL VACUUM

Reports suggest the story boasted strong production values, especially in its costuming and ship sets. Unfortunately, since all four episodes are missing, we’re left with telesnaps, stills, and audio—making it hard to fully appreciate the effort put in. The reconstructions are competent but can’t overcome the repetitive plotting or the lack of visual flair. What might have played as a swashbuckling period adventure on screen often feels more like a plodding audio drama in its current form.

A STRANGE NOTE TO END ON

It’s fitting, in a way, that the last of the pure historicals feels like a genre on its last legs. With the departure of this format, Doctor Who would fully embrace sci-fi and horror, exploring historical settings only through the lens of alien interference. The Highlanders might not be the best farewell to the historical, but it served its purpose—and gave the show a new direction through Jamie and the evolving Second Doctor.

📝 VERDICT: 53/100

The Highlanders is more important than good. It marks the farewell of the pure historical and the introduction of Jamie McCrimmon, while showcasing Patrick Troughton’s emerging brilliance as a playfully deceptive Doctor. The story itself is thin, repetitive, and tonally inconsistent—leaning more on farce than the drama its setting deserves. While the Doctor’s disguises and comedic turns shine, the lack of visual material and a dragging pace make it difficult to recommend as anything other than a historical curiosity. Fun in patches, but very much a story lost to time—both literally and figuratively.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“THE GREATEST MOVIE NEVER MADE: BLOCKBUSTERS, BEE SWARMS, AND BARELY A SCRIPT”

The Greatest Movie Never Made is a short and breezy comic strip that closes out the long-running Doctor Who Adventures magazine on something of a whimper. Clocking in at only a handful of pages, it stars the Thirteenth Doctor and her fam as they zip off to see the Seven Wonders of the Universe—only to discover that someone’s blown them up. The culprit? A flamboyant, egotistical space film director destroying cosmic landmarks in the name of high art. Naturally.

This is very much a “what you see is what you get” affair. The tone is light, the action fast, and the message—such as it is—wrapped up within minutes. There’s no room for depth or drama here, just a brisk gallop through a silly concept with some sparkly visuals and a swarm of alien wasps.

ART STYLE: SIMPLE BUT EFFECTIVE

Visually, the comic is bright, bold, and cartoonish, with expressive character designs that do a decent job of capturing Thirteen and her companions despite the stylistic simplification. The art doesn't attempt to be realistic, but it does make the characters recognisable—no small feat in such a condensed format.

There’s something charming about the colourful, no-nonsense style—though it’s unlikely to wow fans of more intricately illustrated Doctor Who comics like those in Doctor Who Magazine or Titan Comics. This is clearly aimed at a younger audience, and it wears that on its sleeve.

PLOT: A BLOCKBUSTER BUST-UP IN SPACE HOLLYWOOD

The premise is silly but not without potential: the Doctor and fam visit the Seven Wonders of the Universe, only to find them being blown up by an intergalactic auteur in Follyrood, a sort of space Hollywood. The director insists he’s making the greatest film of all time and justifies the destruction of uninhabited worlds in the name of cinematic legacy. It’s very Doctor Who Adventures—a thinly veiled jab at destructive egotism, showbiz excess, and creative irresponsibility.

Thirteen ultimately turns the tables on him by doing what the BBC once did with its own back catalogue: she wipes his master copies, using alien wasps for good measure. There's even a bit of meta-humour in that twist, echoing both the climax of Lux and real-world archival losses.

Errol Flynn shows up too… because why not? It’s never really explained, and he adds little beyond being a historical non-sequitur. Still, it’s good for a chuckle, even if the randomness underlines how thin the story is.

CHARACTERS: THE FAM GET A CAMEO EACH

Unfortunately, while the Doctor gets most of the lines and some decent material, Yaz, Ryan, and Graham are barely present. Each of the fam gets a single line, possibly two, and mostly serve as visual background noise to Thirteen’s investigation. It’s a pity, since their dynamic is usually one of the few consistent strengths of Thirteen’s era.

The villain is pure caricature, and the story offers him the barest sketch of a redemption arc—though “being humiliated by wasps” probably isn’t one for the books.

A FORGETTABLE FAREWELL

There’s an undeniable sense of finality to this strip, being the last comic printed in Doctor Who Adventures before its discontinuation. That said, if this was representative of the standard within the magazine’s final stretch, its end feels understandable. The story is harmless but disposable, the humour is lightweight, and the sci-fi trappings are superficial at best.

It may entertain a young reader on a car journey, but it lacks the charm, wit, and inventiveness that characterise the best of Doctor Who's extended media. Compared to more ambitious one-shots, audio dramas, or even the Titan Comics range, this barely registers.

📝 VERDICT: 52/100

The Greatest Movie Never Made is a zany, colourful mini-adventure that caps off the Doctor Who Adventures run with a whisper rather than a bang. With expressive but simplistic art, a throwaway villain, and a wafer-thin plot, it’s a brisk read with minimal impact. Thirteen is faithfully rendered, but the fam are barely there, and the satire is paper-thin. Unless you're a completionist or under the age of ten, this is one story that—ironically—might be better left never made.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“FOREVER AUTUMN: A HALLOWEEN TALE WITH B-MOVIE CHARM”

With Forever Autumn, Mark Morris delivers a Halloween-themed Doctor Who novel that leans heavily into classic horror tropes and American small-town atmosphere. Set in the fictional New England town of Blackwood Falls, the story surrounds the Doctor and Martha as they investigate a malevolent green mist, a sinister magical book, and pumpkin-headed aliens lurking in the shadows. It’s a love letter to 80s horror, small-town Americana, and the timeless appeal of autumn spookiness.

From the outset, Morris paints a vivid picture of this sleepy town at Halloween: tree-lined streets littered with leaves, creaky old graveyards, and quirky locals—including a mumbling drunkard, an eccentric occultist, and a trio of curious kids. It’s a setting straight out of Stranger Things or The Goonies, and Morris knows exactly how to evoke that feeling of creeping unease beneath a veneer of suburban comfort.

CREEPY KIDS, MAGIC BOOKS, AND POSSESSED CATS

The story kicks off with three pre-teens unearthing a strange book buried beneath an ancient tree. It’s a scene that feels plucked directly from an 80s Halloween special—and sets the tone for what’s to come. From here, the story gradually descends into eerie chaos: a man with no mouth, possessed animals, trick-or-treaters transformed into literal monsters, and a living clown costume that fuses with its wearer in one of the novel’s most memorably grotesque sequences.

The Hervoken—spindly, taloned creatures with pumpkin heads—are effective monsters. Their design practically begs to be drawn, conjuring images of Slenderman crossed with seasonal iconography. They don’t speak, don’t monologue, and rarely appear directly, instead manipulating the world through terrifying agents—mud creatures, leaf beasts, and mind-controlled townsfolk. It’s a smart decision, making them feel all the more unknowable and dangerous.

Their connection to the Carrionites from The Shakespeare Code adds a nice lore tie-in. Like the Carrionites, the Hervoken operate through “magic” that’s really misunderstood science. Their crashed ship, hidden beneath the sacred tree, runs on fear—a deliciously creepy conceit that ties their evil to the emotional fabric of the holiday.

THE DOCTOR AND MARTHA VS HALLOWEEN HORRORS

The Tenth Doctor is spot-on here, blending charm, wit, and underlying steel. His banter with Martha feels natural, and his actions are consistent with his portrayal in Series 3. He’s a man of science confronting pseudo-sorcery, and Morris captures that tension well.

Martha gets a decent amount of focus too, though she largely follows the damsel-in-distress arc in the second half. She’s kidnapped by the Hervoken, prompting the Doctor to descend into their eerie subterranean lair. The plot from this point becomes more conventional: escape sequences, info-dumps, and a climax that tries to wrap things up a little too briskly for its own good.

STRONG ATMOSPHERE, PATCHY PACING

Morris excels at mood. His prose drips with seasonal imagery—mists clinging to lampposts, rustling leaves, eerie silences in the dead of night. He’s clearly drawing from a deep well of horror influences, from John Carpenter to Are You Afraid of the Dark? He even takes detours in the narrative to linger in the heads of frightened townspeople, building atmosphere rather than plot. While this adds flavour, it occasionally bogs the pacing down.

The middle section in particular can feel sluggish. Morris devotes entire chapters to describing the night-time fears of minor characters who never become truly relevant. It’s immersive, yes, but comes at the expense of momentum.

SUPPORTING CAST: FAMILIAR FACES, FORGETTABLE ROLES

While Blackwood Falls is well-sketched as a location, its residents are less developed. The three kids serve mostly as plot devices; the Halloween shopkeeper is memorable in concept but thinly characterised; and the town drunkard feels more like a trope than a person. Etta, the local witch, fares slightly better, acting as the town’s link to its hidden magical history—but even she only skirts the edges of relevance.

There’s a feeling that these characters exist to support the theme, not to evolve or grow within the narrative. It’s a shame, as a more emotionally engaging supporting cast could have given the horror greater weight.

A STRONG CONCEPT THAT FIZZLES AT THE FINISH

The final act, while containing some fun imagery and high-stakes action, can’t quite live up to the promise of the eerie build-up. Events unfold rapidly, and the ultimate resolution feels slightly rushed and conventional. Given how confidently the novel leans into unsettling imagery early on, the ending feels comparatively safe.

Still, there’s a lot to enjoy in Forever Autumn—especially for fans of horror-tinged Doctor Who. Between its strong setting, terrifying creatures, and seasonal flair, it makes for a highly readable holiday special in novel form.

📝VERDICT: 73/100

Forever Autumn is a spooky and stylish Halloween tale that marries Doctor Who with small-town American horror. Mark Morris creates a wonderfully eerie atmosphere, supported by some memorably creepy set-pieces and a strong concept in the Hervoken. While pacing issues and a flat supporting cast hold it back, it’s still a fun, if slightly uneven, seasonal read. Great for fans of autumn leaves, pumpkin monsters, and occult adventures.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“JUST WAR: TIME TRAVEL, TORTURE, AND THE TRAGEDY OF JASON KANE”

The Time Ring Trilogy draws to a close with Just War, and it does so in the most harrowing and emotionally charged way imaginable. Adapted by Jacqueline Rayner from Lance Parkin’s Virgin New Adventures novel, this tale plunges us into an alternate 1941 in which the Nazis have successfully occupied Britain. It’s a premise that instantly establishes a world thick with dread and discomfort, and the audio wastes no time immersing the listener in its bleak setting. There are no monsters, no explosions, and no technobabble resolutions—this is pure character drama amidst one of the darkest periods in human history.

Jason Kane takes the place of the original novel’s Seventh Doctor, Chris, and Roz, becoming Benny’s only real anchor across a two-part story where the pair are separated once more, forced to survive under false identities in a world that wants them dead. Both are working from within the Nazi war machine—Benny as the fake daughter of a Cornish matriarch, Jason disguised as a Nazi officer—all in a desperate effort to track and sabotage the development of an experimental stealth weapon that could rewrite history itself.

BERNICE IN HELL: A TOUR-DE-FORCE PERFORMANCE

Lisa Bowerman is astonishing here, giving us perhaps her most vulnerable performance as Bernice to date. This isn’t the wisecracking, quip-hurling archaeologist we know and love. Trapped in a Nazi-controlled Britain, Benny is terrified—truly terrified—in a way no Dalek or alien warlord ever made her. She’s already killed to protect herself and clings desperately to the maternal kindness of Ma Doras, a woman who knows Benny’s identity is fake but plays along anyway out of quiet, determined decency.

Maggie Stables makes her Big Finish debut as Ma Doras, and she is a revelation. She brings the same warm, steadying presence she’d later embody as Evelyn Smythe, grounding Benny emotionally and offering her a lifeline amid the horror. The moments between Ma and Benny are among the most honest and affecting of the entire trilogy.

Benny's journey through this story is one of torment and tenacity—she is arrested, imprisoned, interrogated, and tortured, all while trying not to give away her identity or lose her mind. And Bowerman walks us through this emotional gauntlet with grace, rage, and heartbreak. It’s a stunning performance that anchors the entire audio.

VILLAINS IN THE SHADOWS

Mark Gatiss voices the ice-cold Standardtenführer Wolff, and he’s bone-chilling—polite, calm, utterly remorseless. It’s a performance built on restraint, and that makes him all the more terrifying. Michael Wade's Oberst Steinmann, meanwhile, oozes menace in quieter ways. His refusal to acknowledge the possibility of a future without the Nazi regime, simply because he can't imagine a world where they don't win, is perhaps the story’s most disturbing idea. It’s chillingly plausible.

The interrogation scenes—particularly the ones where the Nazis try to break Benny psychologically—are superbly crafted. The idea that they believe she cannot be a time traveller from a future without Nazis because no other worldview is imaginable to them is a deeply unsettling conceit. And Benny, forced to pretend she is someone else while being punished for being herself, makes for a bleak but compelling arc.

JASON’S REDEMPTION

While Benny goes through physical and psychological hell, Jason Kane’s story unfolds at a slower pace. But Stephen Fewell brings a quiet tragedy to the role that blossoms beautifully in the story’s final stretch. His reunion with Benny is cathartic, and the moment he murders Wolff in cold blood—not out of revenge, but to protect Benny—is gut-wrenching and deeply human. There’s no glory in it, just raw desperation and love he can’t express any other way. Benny doesn’t know how to respond. And that ambiguity is perfect.

It’s perhaps Fewell’s best work in the role—subtle, broken, and ultimately noble.

A QUIETLY POWERFUL CONCLUSION

While Just War starts slowly and contains little traditional action, it is layered with tension and suffused with an oppressive atmosphere that never lets up. Its themes—about fascism, identity, survival, and the fragility of history—are handled with mature restraint. There are no bombastic twists or alien invasions. The sci-fi elements (the stealth bomber, the time ring) are almost incidental, with the true heart of the story lying in how these characters survive the worst of human evil.

As a finale to the Time Ring Trilogy, it lacks the grandeur or sweeping scope of Walking to Babylon, but it offers something deeper: emotional catharsis. It’s grim and unrelenting, but powerful in its honesty. Rayner proves here that she’s just as comfortable crafting raw, character-driven drama as she is penning joyful comedy.

📝VERDICT: 9/10

Just War is a stark, emotionally mature piece of storytelling that proves Big Finish can do far more than space opera. Lisa Bowerman gives her most raw and human performance yet as Benny, and the supporting cast is uniformly excellent. It’s not a thrill-a-minute adventure but a haunting exploration of identity, trauma, and the dangers of ideology. If you’ve followed the Time Ring Trilogy thus far, this is a must-listen—and it might just be the best of the three.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“THE JUGGERNAUTS: DAVROS, DALEKS A CRASH LANDING INTO A FAMILIAR TERRITORY”

The Juggernauts opens like a modern Doctor Who episode – all chaos and high-stakes spectacle, with Six and Mel trapped on a crashing spaceship surrounded by alarms, fire and failing systems. It’s a punchy start that immediately grabs your attention and promises big things to come. The Doctor stays behind to stabilise the vessel while Mel escapes to safety in a pod, landing on the mining colony of Lethe. From here, the two leads are split for nearly half the story, and the plot sets up a double-pronged mystery as both separately try to uncover what’s going on – and eventually, how to reunite.

At first glance, this feels like a standard “Doctor and companion separated” setup, but what gives it its unique flavour is the fact that The Juggernauts is actually a Dalek story in (a thinly veiled) disguise – with Davros pulling the strings from the shadows and a reimagined take on the Mechanoids thrown into the mix. There’s also a certain dramatic irony baked in: we know more than the characters do, and that knowledge creates a simmering tension… at least, in theory.

DAVROS IN DISGUISE: PROFESSOR VASSO’S SHAKY SCIENTIFIC STINT

The core twist of the story – that Davros is alive, surviving the crash, and now hiding under the alias “Professor Vasso” – is blown by the cover and synopsis, so there’s little suspense in his true identity. That said, Terry Molloy plays the initial role with an unusually measured and benevolent tone, ditching the rasping megalomania for a calm, collected scientist voice that actually makes you wonder: is Davros faking this, or has he turned over a new leaf?

It’s a compelling idea, but one that the story doesn't fully commit to. The façade is dropped far too soon – as soon as the Doctor shows up, Davros reverts to his usual villainous posturing. A subtler reveal might have made for stronger drama, especially since the “what if Davros went good?” angle could’ve provided some juicy ethical ambiguity. Instead, the story treads familiar ground: Davros pretending to work for peace while secretly creating his own new race of war machines.

MEL GETS A JOB AND THE DOCTOR GETS A MISSION

One of the most interesting elements is Mel’s position on Lethe. She integrates into the colony, uses her programming skills, and unknowingly helps bring the Juggernauts to life – Mechanoids reengineered as part of a cutting-edge project. It’s a rare story that foregrounds Mel’s technical aptitude, and that’s genuinely refreshing. Her refusal to leave when the Doctor comes to “rescue” her also gives her some welcome autonomy. She thinks she’s doing good work under a reputable scientist – and why wouldn’t she? Davros’ mask hasn’t slipped yet.

Meanwhile, the Doctor’s storyline feels more by-the-numbers. Having been “rescued” by the Daleks, he’s conscripted to help prevent a disaster – an idea we've seen before in stories like Revelation of the Daleks and The Stolen Earth, and which doesn't hold much tension here because the Daleks' motives are so transparently sinister. There’s no real urgency to his predicament, and the story tends to forget about it until the script needs a jolt of drama.

PACING PROBLEMS AND A LACK OF ENERGY

For a story with so many moving parts – Daleks, Davros, Mechanoids, mining colonies, ethical dilemmas – The Juggernauts unfolds with a surprisingly sedate pace. The first half especially suffers from a lack of dramatic thrust. We spend a lot of time with Mel and her colleagues, but these supporting characters aren’t fleshed out enough to invest in. The day-to-day life of the Lethe colony is sketched in vague terms, with little in the way of world-building or tension.

Even when the Doctor and Mel are finally reunited midway through Part Two, there’s a strange lack of chemistry – not due to the performances, but due to the script. They share precious little time together until Part Three, and for a Doctor/companion pairing that’s still relatively new in the Big Finish range (this being only their second main range outing after The One Doctor), it feels like a missed opportunity. There’s very little spark or banter between them until the plot absolutely demands it.

DALEKS, MECHANOIDS, AND AN UNINSPIRED CONSPIRACY

There’s potential in the central conflict – Davros attempting to create a new species to surpass the Daleks, using the Mechanoids as a base. This recalls Genesis of the Daleks, with Davros positioning himself as a creator once again, tired of being betrayed by his own creations. The Mechanoids’ redesign as “Juggernauts” – partially organic, partially robotic – is an unsettling twist, especially when we learn they’re being built using harvested body parts.

But even this horror element feels undercooked. The idea of cyborg slaves, stitched together by a half-mad scientist, should be chilling – but the script only brushes against it. The Juggernauts never come across as fully realised threats. They’re clunky, slow-moving, and their climactic role lacks any real punch. For what’s meant to be the Mechanoids’ grand comeback after nearly 40 years, they’re surprisingly forgettable.

And of course, there’s the inevitable “twist” that the Daleks and Davros were working together all along to trap the Doctor. It’s meant to be shocking – but let’s be honest, would anyone be surprised if they weren’t conspiring? It’s such a familiar beat in Davros stories that it lands with a sigh rather than a gasp.

MEL’S MOMENT AND A MUDDLED ENDING

Despite the story’s many shortcomings, Mel does get one standout moment: when she uses her programming expertise to override and control the Juggernauts, turning them against Davros. It’s a great payoff for her arc and the one moment where she truly takes the lead. Even better is her moral challenge to the Doctor – asking why he didn’t destroy the Daleks when he had the chance back in Genesis of the Daleks. These are big questions, and it's a shame the story doesn’t do more with them.

Unfortunately, the ending feels overextended. The final act should wrap with the defeat of Davros and the Daleks, but the story lingers for a while afterwards, seemingly unsure of how to land. Mel’s guilt over having helped Davros – and her brief desire to leave the TARDIS – doesn’t feel earned, because the script never gives this theme of culpability any real depth. It’s just one more idea briefly raised and then discarded.

FAMILIAR FACES AND FORGOTTEN POTENTIAL

One quirky delight is the unexpected return of the stuttering Dalek from The Chase – a strange little Easter egg that long-time fans will appreciate, though it does little to impact the story. In general, The Juggernauts is full of good ideas that never quite cohere into a satisfying whole. The performances are solid across the board, especially from Colin Baker and Terry Molloy, who bring energy and gravitas to even the flattest scenes. But the plot beats are tired, the direction is flat, and the sense of menace never quite lands.

📝VERDICT: 6.3/10

The Juggernauts has all the ingredients for a tense, dramatic, and morally complex Dalek tale: a shady Davros, a divided Doctor/companion team, and a twisted new take on the Mechanoids. But it never quite cooks. The pacing is sluggish, the stakes never feel high, and most of the interesting ideas – Davros hiding in plain sight, Mel unknowingly aiding evil, the ethical cost of programming machines to kill – are skimmed over rather than explored in full. It’s a functional, competently made audio, but with Big Finish’s high bar for Dalek stories this one feels like a missed opportunity.

Thworping through time and space, one adventure at a time!

“THE WELL: A GRIPPING AND GORGEOUSLY TENSE UNEXPECTED SEQUEL”

Following directly on from the fourth-wall-breaking Lux, Sharma Angel-Walfall’s (co-written with Russell T Davies) debut Doctor Who episodeThe Well dials down the scale but not the intensity, plunging us into an eerie, barren mining planet in the distant future. The episode transports the Doctor and Belinda from the glamorous glow of 1950s Miami to a bleak, lifeless world 400,000 years in the future – and in a very classic Doctor Who touch, this vision of sci-fi desolation is brought to life through quarries and steelworks in South Wales. But it’s never once unconvincing, thanks to stellar direction, haunting design, and genuinely chilling atmosphere.

The return to a more contained “base-under-siege” setup is a smart pivot after Lux, offering a tense, almost claustrophobic experience that echoes Midnight without mimicking it. The mining base on planet 6-7-6-7 feels lived-in yet ominously abandoned, with detailed set design suggesting a bustling operation brought to a sudden, horrific halt. Every broken mirror and scattered body tells a story, and it’s in the quiet exploration of these ruins that the episode builds its dread.

CHARACTERS: DEATH, DISABILITY, AND DESPERATION

Unlike The Robot Rebellion or The Devil’s Chord, this week’s guest cast gets room to breathe. The episode introduces eleven soldiers, but wisely focuses on just a few: Shay Costallion, the pragmatic and courageous captain; Cassio, the brash, insubordinate soldier who won’t take orders from the Doctor; and Mo, a more soft-spoken and relatable presence. Most of them are doomed, of course – this is a Midnight-sequel after all – but we get to know them just enough for their deaths to sting.

But the real standout is Rose Ayling-Ellis as Aliss Fenley, a deaf cook and the only survivor of the base. Her performance is riveting – equal parts fragile and fierce – and the writing never reduces her to a victim or a gimmick. Instead, her deafness is integral to the plot in a subtle, meaningful way. The future’s use of augmented sign language and speech-to-text tech offers smart, hopeful world-building, and the episode makes several poignant jabs at present-day inequality through lines like Aliss' horror that Belinda doesn’t know BSL – “It’s illegal for nurses not to know sign in my time.” Brilliant.

Ncuti Gatwa’s Doctor is, once again, a masterclass in contrast. He’s warm and inquisitive one moment, then suddenly terrified and rattled when he realises where they are. His fearful recognition of Midnight is brilliantly underplayed – a quiet dread creeping in, setting this apart from the louder, more reactive responses of other incarnations. You feel that he remembers what happened last time.

Belinda also continues to grow in strength and presence. Still a bit swept away by the chaos, she’s more confident, improvising, taking initiative, and getting to be a nurse again – a lovely nod to her core identity. Her unwavering support of Aliss, even when everyone else turns on her, is an important beat for her development.

PLOT AND THEMES: THE UNKNOWN, THE UNSEEN, AND THE UNSTOPPABLE

The episode thrives on atmosphere, paranoia and ambiguity. There’s no exposition dump for the monster, no clear solution, no real name. Like Midnight, the fear is in what we don’t know. The creature is never fully seen, but we feel its presence in every shot – whispering, stalking, killing anyone who walks behind Aliss. The visual cue of Aliss’ terror every time someone moves behind her is quietly terrifying, and rewards rewatching.

That this is Midnight again isn’t immediately clear, but when the reveal hits – that the creature is back, and they’ve returned to the same planet – the horror truly sets in. Crucially, this isn’t a lazy retread: the creature has evolved, or is perhaps a different strain of the same threat. It doesn’t mimic people like in the original, but instead hides behind its host, feeding on fear and waiting to strike. The twist that it moves from body to body if its current host is killed adds an unsettling logic to the chaos. The rules are simple but horrifying: don’t walk behind the wrong person.

When it’s finally revealed that the creature is playing with its victims – not hunting out of necessity, but for the thrill – it’s one of the darkest implications the show has dared to make in recent years. The creature is unknowable and unstoppable, and the only option is to run.

ACTION AND CLIMAX: SACRIFICE AND SURVIVAL

The action scenes – especially the one where multiple troopers are flung into the air – do slightly undermine the terror with their silly theatrics, but this is a minor flaw. The episode regains its footing with the emotional and character-driven final act. Costallion’s sacrifice in the airlock to save Belinda is deeply moving and sobering, a brutal reminder of the cost of travelling with the Doctor. It also mirrors The Waters of Mars in tone – fatalism, heroism, and the weight of time.

The Doctor’s desperate gamble to use a wall of mercury to break the creature’s grip on Aliss – despite its toxicity – is a solid moment of practical ingenuity. But it’s not a neat resolution. The final moments don’t bring closure, just survival. And then comes the final shot: the creature is still there, whispering, watching. Ready to strike again. It’s one of the most chilling endings Doctor Who has done in years.

AUDIO, DIRECTION AND ATMOSPHERE: SCARING US SILLY

From its minimalist score to the clever sound design – whispers, static, and the eerie hum of a base gone cold – this episode knows how to use silence. Director Dylan Holmes Williams creates a tangible sense of dread through lighting and camera movement, and the production values are top-tier across the board.

There’s also a fantastic use of lighting and reflections – mirrors are a key motif here, and the shattered remains across the base evoke ideas of broken identities, unseen threats, and shattered lives. Smart visual storytelling all around.

BUILDING THE ARC: ANOTHER PIECE OF THE PUZZLE

The series arc gets a chilling advancement here. The reveal that no one has heard of Earth – because it was destroyed on May 24th, 2025 – adds a whole new layer of existential tension. Suddenly, the Doctor and Belinda’s adventures aren’t just thrilling romps through time and space; they’re a desperate attempt to uncover a mystery and stop a disaster.

📝 VERDICT: 9.9/10

The Well is one of the strongest episodes of the RTD2 era so far – a perfect blend of atmosphere, character, mystery, and existential horror. It builds on Midnight without diminishing it, delivering an entirely new kind of fear while still honouring the legacy of the original. With brilliant performances, particularly from Rose Ayling-Ellis, gorgeous production values, and a slow-burn plot that rewards patience, this is modern Doctor Who firing on all cylinders. Creepy, characterful, and completely captivating.