A Shot in the Arm

Every year I debate whether or not to get a flu shot, and then winter passes by and no skin has been broken. Fear of needles plays no part, and I understand the science behind it. I have no deep-seeded phobia, or high minded politics. It's apathy really. I just never get around it.

Fever and fatigue are the two nasty little indicators of the flu and this weekend they came knocking with a vengeance. I've been known to wash great piles of dishes during a cold bout, but I can barely raise the remote control this time around. So it is that I settle down with a large glass of orange juice (liberally spiked with Russian vodka) and a hefty roll of toilet paper to watch The Ribos Operation.

The opening credits make me dizzy, so I lay my head to the pillow and wait for the blast of bright light as the White Guardian appears on the scene. When I was 14, the Key to Time season was a major cause for excitement. After drifting away from Doctor Who for several months, I discovered it back on KVOS 12's schedule at midnight on Saturday night. And so began my mythical awakening as devoted fan.

The problem with drinking spiked orange juice through a straw is....well you get that burst of vodka right to the brain. Appropriate as the camera pans up on Romana. It may have been broadcast in 1978, but this icy Time Lady fits right into the 1980s of Joan Collins and Linda Evans.

The Ribos Operation is what I call "lean in and listen carefully" Doctor Who. (I should note that the current television convention of creating complex story arcs laced with clues and viewer loyalty nods is not at all the same thing). This story is all about the pleasures of a witty, cleverly drawn Robert Holmes script. They had me when the White Guardian informed the Doctor that "nothing" would ever happen to him if he didn't take on the quest for the Key to Time. Smart and playful dialogue is the nectar of the gods (which I guess would make the likes of Aaron Sorkin an Archangel). George Spenton-Foster, for his part, stays mostly out of the way allowing Paul Seed to be shouty to his heart's desire (and no offense to him as he seems to have a great sense of humour about it in the accompanying DVD featurette), and the set designer to raid the recent BBC production of Anna Karenina. Unfortunately Spenton-Foster leaves the camera running too long on the Shrivenzale.

Garron and Unstoffe--bloody brilliant! And bless you Binro, I always tear up when you learn you were right. And the Seeker, oh what a worthy addition to the pantheon of loony Doctor Who hags. In my somewhat feverish delirium, I begin to speculate on crossover fan fiction involving the marriage of the Seeker and Richardson (he of the mystical deer antler in the picture above) from the HBO show Deadwood. He would follow her around like a puppy dog, while she would bellow about lost car keys and together they'll start a new age antler cult.

Outside it's snowing unrelentingly (it's been a hellishly long winter), but inside I revel over the joys of onscreen winter and snow. Even when it's polystyrene, I have a bit of a fetish watching people freeze off their tits off (Dr. Zhivago is my favourite film of all time). Oh wait, I love this part: the Doctor, Romana and Garron are all leaning into each other in a rock crevasse. It's so camp and I never get tired of it.

And then as my eyelids start to get heavy, it's time to watch the jethrik transformed into the first segment of the Key to Time. I love gimmicky gadgets and I always loved the sense of accomplishment as they raised it up to behold it's shiny plastic-y-ness. Doctor Who with purpose. We were on our way. To the toilet for the time being...

Original viewing date: September 8, 1984

Spirit: Russian Vodka with orange juice (by my reckoning that's a screwdriver to the eye).

Music: "Sunglasses at Night" by Corey Hart.