Behind the Sofa: The Doctor Dances

Sexier???

Ellison being involved (maybe The Star know something we don't?). Have Television X secured exclusive distribution rights?

Will series two require a bloody pin-number?
by the way) it was certainly the sexiest - bar none. Forget Leela in her shami, or Lalla in her school uniform (if you can), this was smut and innuendo with knobs on.

Sex, sex, sex. Everywhere you turn: from the bisexual 51st Century Boy, Jack, to the revelation about where that bloke got his meat ration from, to the underage bonking admission from Nancy (who you can now fancy, safe in the knowledge that you're not doing anything wrong). fact that she practically invited the Doctor for a snog (again!

), laid-back swinger's party, and straight-faced references to resonating concrete which would have made Robin Askwith blush.
And if the subtext about sonic envy was too subtle for the audience, Rose on her, ahem, T-shirt. Hilariously, the fanboys are distracted by bloody good 'Carry On.

..' movie.

And yet it works. Mostly because it's genuinely amusing, but also because it has so much more to offer. It's been said before, far more eloquently than me on this very blog, that this episode is choc-full of auerism thanks to all the cock references).

The TARDIS phone ringing, the skull-cracking gas masks, the Are You My Mummy? mantra, the psyhic typewriter, the banana shaped like a penis..

.
The climax was - dare I even use the word? - fantastic.

It ending where the hero wins through without any loss of life. In any other show it would be par for the course, but with Doctor Who it really is a notable victory, and a well deserved one for the ninth Doctor, given his rather pathetic performance as an intergalactic troubleshooter in the series so far. I was very close to weeping tears of joy and I lit a fag as soon as the end credits were rolling.

Ironically, he was shouting Everybody lives! in the middle of a German air-raid so he's probably sadly mistaken too.
proceeds to use it for a pole-dance routine so stunning, so liberating, so unashamedly unique, that even if the next three acts are comprised of the reanimated corpses of The Roly Polys, you'll still leave the establishment with a big, fat smile on your face.

I've been writing this motion picture - in my mind - for some time. It opens with a star field shot and a small pin prick of light moving across it, getting slowly bigger. And as it gets closer, you begin to hear music.

Indistinguishable at first, then you recognize it as Abba's Dancing Queen as a cruiser is identified at the heart of the ball of light and the action moves into the flight deck and there's our hero, dancing away - alone - round some futuristic chairs. And, in a similar vein, there's plenty of choreographed cannoledling within the first few moments of The Doctor Dances, the Dancin' One pulls one of his favorite poses from Saturday Night Fever.
The Doctor Dances - an interesting title.