Doctor Who
World War Three (2)

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: B | 2 USERS: A-
YOU GRADE IT
World War Three (2)

Thank goodness for Mickey. He grabs the phone from Jackie, shouting, "We're in!" The Doctor runs around the table and starts giving him instructions: "On the left, there's a tab, an icon with little concentric circles." Mickey clicks, and the Doctor explains that it's listening in on the transmitter from the North Sea ship. "...Now hush, let me work out what it's saying." Jackie's still preoccupied -- "He'll have to answer me one day," like she doesn't already know the answer -- and Mickey shushes her. The Doctor realizes that the message is on a loop, just as the aliens arrive at Mickey's apartment and ring the bell. Mickey tells Jackie to answer, and she points out it's 3 in the morning. "Well, go and tell them that," says Mickey, sensibly enough. She gives him a look, but heads out, and Mickey shakes his head, all, "Blimey!"

Jackie answers the door to her policeman -- "Mrs. Tyler" -- and immediately slams it shut again. I love when that happens! She runs in screaming about "the Slickeen!," and Mickey tells the Doctor that they've been nicked. "Mickey, I need that signal," says the Doctor, and Rose indicates that the signal should go fuck itself and Mickey needs to get her mum out of there. Mickey picks up a baseball bat and tells the phone how they can't leave, because it's at the front door and he lives on the third floor in shitty council housing. Outside, the Slitheen unzips, and Jackie and Mickey see the light coming through around the door, and Mickey starts yelling that "it's unmasking" and about to kill them. Harriet worries vocally as the Doctor thinks. He and Rose -- and helpful Harriet -- slowly narrow down the possible points of origin for the Slitheen family, even as the policeman gets nearer and nearer to Jackie and Mickey. "They're green." "Narrows it down." "Good sense of smell," "can smell adrenaline," use "compression techonology" and "slipstream" engines and hunt "like it's a ritual." Harriet points out that "when they fart, if you'll pardon the word," it doesn't "smell like a fart, if you'll pardon the word," and Rose supplies that it's closer to halitosis. Which somehow causes the Doctor to realize that they are involved with "calcium decay," which makes them made of "living calcium" or "hyphenated sodium," and this whole thing is really just embarrassing at this point, and he finally narrows it down to one planet: "Raxacorricofallapatorius!"

Mickey's not feeling too open about congratulating them, as the Slitheen begins coming through the door, and the Doctor tells them to get into the kitchen. They try to bar the door shut with random kitchen stuff, and the Slitheen...continues to be menacing but not actually do anything. Again. Just like in the halls of 10 Downing Street, when they were running back and forth like a Benny Hill sketch for ten years. While the Doctor blathers on and on about nothing in particular except the MacGuffin whatever that resolves this particular plot point. Which isn't all that irritating as a viewer, but is fucking lazy for a writer: "They run and run and run. That's an entire act. Then they talk about how they can defeat the Slitheen that's in Mickey's flat, but I'll fill that bit in later. Something about calcium or something, whatever. I remember in tenth grade something about Hannibal and vinegar, so there you go. Then the Slitheen knocks on the door, repeatedly, for a half hour, but still stays scary. That's the director's problem. But don't worry, I'll add some glitter and sparkle and some sassy, wacky discussions, a bunch of meaningful looks between the Doctor and Rose after every line of dialogue, Jackie whining sixteen times in a row about her daughter being "safe" to the point where she's repeating herself verbatim, and it'll all be very touching and squee-worthy, and that way nobody will notice that this is barely an episode's worth of material, much less two." Which, to be fair, was mostly successful here, and it's not a bad episode, but on paper it's bullshit. Plus, y'know. Farting.

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