Peter had been looking rather glum after the Jimmy Savile question but he laughed at Sue’s cheekiness. Then he denied knowing anything about the fiftieth-anniversary special and looked a little bit sad again. In the bar, Sue was triumphant.
Sue: I’ve spoken to two Doctor Whos, now. You haven’t spoken to any. How does that make you feel, Neil?
But Peter Davison was just the Whors d’oeuvres (see Glossary on page 259). The main dish was John Levene.
John Levene is the actor who played Sergeant Benton in Doctor Who between 1969 and 1976. Sue adored Benton:
I’m warming to Benton. He’s so much better than Captain Yates. (‘The Mind of Evil’)
Benton isn’t just a pretty face. (‘The Time Monster’)
Good old Benton. You can always rely on Benton. I bloody love Benton. (‘Invasion of the Dinosaurs’)
Benton and I would get on like a house on fire. Is the actor who played Benton still alive? (‘Planet of the Spiders’)
When I told her that the actor who played Benton was not merely alive but would be performing his cabaret act at the convention, it sealed the deal – more than the promise of a photo opportunity with Peter Davison or a pint with Terrance Dicks. She agreed to attend Dimensions 2012. That’s how much Sue loved Sergeant Benton.
Not only was John Levene MC-ing the charity auction, he was going to sing a few selections from his new album, The Ballads of Sergeant Benton – ‘If I Were A Carpenter’, ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ and ‘Lady in Red’. Look out Bublé! As we took our seats in the hotel’s ballroom, I noticed that several women in the audience were wearing red cocktail dresses. When I pointed this out to Sue, she removed her jacket to show off the red T-shirt she was wearing and perhaps catch John’s eye.
John bounded onto the stage to muted applause.
John Levene: I’ve got twelve suits just like this one at home. I don’t like the suit that much. I just like being measured!
After this zinger, John broke the sad news that he wouldn’t be singing anything from his new album after all. He told us that the engineer who had mixed his record in LA had altered the tempo without his permission and that’s why he couldn’t do it. Sue wasn’t convinced. She thought that John was too frightened to go through with it and she felt sorry for him. Singing or not singing, even at this stage John Levene could do no wrong.
But then the charity auction showed Sue a side of Doctor Who fandom that horrified her. John was auctioning some signed merchandise when a small boy, who couldn’t have been more than ten, got into a vicious bidding war with a man in his late forties. When the boy reached the limits of his pocket money allowance, the man continued to steamroller him. Sue told me later that she considered out-bidding him so she could donate the item to the clearly distressed child, but there was no way she was going to pay £150 for a painting of Nicola Bryant in a bikini. Meanwhile, John Levene did nothing to prevent this injustice happening. The contrast between the actor and the heroic Sergeant Benton was stark.
When John broke for an interval, I noticed Robert Dick loitering next to the exit. Robert was working at the convention as an interviewer and a chaperone, and because he was an avid reader of our blog I stopped to say hello. Robert asked Sue what she thought of John Levene’s act.
Sue: I love Benton, I really do. But this … I don’t want to see Benton like this. It’s a bit sad, really.
Deep voice: Yes, it is, rather.
This disembodied voice emanated from a face that loomed out of the shadows behind Robert’s shoulder.
Sue: Oh my God … You’re … You’re Patrick Troughton’s son. I … I recognise your voice.
Robert: This is Michael. I’ve been telling him about your website, Sue.
Michael: Yes, it sounds fascinating. What a jolly good idea for a website. How far have you got with it?
Sue: We’ve just finished Peter Davison but your Dad is my favourite Doctor so far. No one else has even come close.
Michael: Oh, that’s wonderful!
Sue and Michael were still chatting as I edged my wife towards the exit. As we were leaving, she promised that she would attend his panel the next morning, and I believed her. In fact she was still buzzing when we reached the hotel car park for a much-needed cigarette a few minutes later.
Sue: That was Michael Troughton! That was Patrick Troughton’s son!
Me: Yes, I know who he was.
Sue: What a lovely man. I’m a bit starstruck, actually, and he’s only a Doctor’s son. Isn’t that funny?
Me: I know, why don’t you go back in there with the microphone and ask him to record a sting for the podcast. You know, something simple like: ‘I’m Michael Troughton and you are listening to the Wife in Space’. I’ll wait here for you.
I smoked a cigarette and waited. And then I smoked another cigarette and waited some more. I glanced at my watch. What was taking her so long? She was supposed to record a ten-second sting for a podcast, not Michael Troughton’s life story.
I was about to light a fourth cigarette when I noticed Sue through the glass doors of the hotel lobby. It was her scarf that gave her away. And then my heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t alone. Sue was talking to John Levene. Worse than that, she was waving a microphone in John Levene’s face. I couldn’t bear to watch, so walked round the block. When I returned five minutes later, Sue was running out of the lobby. She looked like she had seen a ghost.
Sue: You won’t believe what’s just happened!
My first thought: John is a big fan of the blog and he asked Sue to come back to his room.
Sue: I’ve upset John Levene.
My second thought: John is a big fan of the blog and he asked Sue to come back to his room and she turned him down.
Sue: He’s really angry with me. He’s threatening to walk out of his own gig.
Me: Are you serious? What did you do to him?
Sue: I accidentally bumped into him and he spilt some drink on his suit. And then he went mental! I’ve got it all on tape. Here, listen …
Transcript of Sue meets Benton
Sue: Can I ask you to do something for me?
John Levene: Yes, you can.
Sue: Could you say, I’m John Levene and you’re listening to the Wife in Space?
John Levene: You want me to say a bit more than that, though?
Sue: Well, it’s just for a podcast …
John Levene: Oh. OK.
Sue: Would you mind?
John Levene: Hang on … So, it’s – I am John Levene …
Sue: And you are listening to the Wife in Space.
John Levene: The Wife?
Pertwee lookalike: Wife. Wife. WIFE!
Sue: Yes, the Wife in Space.
John Levene: Wife as in wife?
Sue: Yes.
Pertwee lookalike: WIFE!
John Levene: OK, OK. I am John Levene and I am listening to the Wife in Space.
Sue: Well thank you for listening to the Wife in Space, but could you say, I am John Levene and you are listening to …
John Levene or Pertwee lookalike (it’s not entirely clear): WHOAH!
Sue: Sorry, John. Sorry, John. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
John Levene: Let go. Let go!
Sue: Sorry. Let me get you another one …
John Levene: It’s not the drink – it’s the f**king suit.
Sue: Sorry, chuck. Sorry.
John Levene: Ah, shit.
Sue: Let me get you something …
John Levene: Leave it for now. You’ve killed it dead now.
Sue: Let me get you something. Would you like me to get you a cloth?
John Levene: I’m in the toilet. Now leave the f**king mic alone.
I listened to all this with a mixture of glee and growing dismay.
Sue: He’s so angry with me, Neil, he’ll probably get us thrown out of the hotel. I’m not going back inside there. No way.
Me: But we have a hotel room booked. We have to go back inside.
Sue: Sod that. I’ve
had enough. I want to go home.
I gave our room to a friend and then I gathered our things together while Sue hid in the Little Chef next door. She was still fuming about it when we arrived home an hour later. She blamed the Jon Pertwee lookalike who had put John Levene off by repeatedly shouting the word ‘Wife!’ at him, like he was deaf or something.
Sue: Michael Troughton was lovely. I really wanted to go to his panel in the morning. But there’s no way in hell I’m going back to that hotel. John Levene has killed it.
When I uploaded the podcast to the blog (Michael Troughton’s introductory sting was perfect), there were listeners who believed that Sue must have been drunk that night because her voice sounded ‘a bit weird’. But Sue always sounds like that. Even I can’t understand her sometimes. No, she was sober; what you can hear in her voice is probably heartbreak. If you meet Sue at a convention after this book comes out, just a word of warning: don’t mention John Levene or Sergeant Benton. You’ll kill it. And then she’ll kill you.
The Fit One and the Court Jester
Sue threw more than thirty cushions at me over the course of the experiment – or one cushion more than thirty times – although only one projectile ever caused me any serious harm (I was drinking hot tea at the time). Reasons for a cushion in the face were many and varied. Maybe I’d been too complimentary about the attractiveness of a female guest star. Maybe I’d misled Sue about the number of episodes she was about to sit through. Maybe I’d accidentally on purpose led her to believe that the Doctor was about to regenerate when he quite clearly wasn’t. What can I say? It kept me amused.
Sue could have shut this down any time she liked. A quick visit to Wikipedia could have told her that the next story featured the Daleks. There was nothing preventing her from reaching over and reading the back of the DVD cover either. The comments section of the blog was riddled with spoilers, too, because some of our readers just couldn’t help themselves:
I wonder what Sue will think of the next one when the Master turns up again for the first time in five years?
The idiots.
Me: I’m sorry, but I need you to close your eyes during this title sequence.
Sue: Why?
Me: Because the title of this story is a massive spoiler.
Sue: Is it ‘The Return of the Master’?
Me: No.
Sue: Is it ‘The Return of the Cybermen’?
Me: Look …
Sue: Is it ‘The Return of the Daleks’?
Me: Stop it!
One title that I didn’t need to hide from Sue was ‘Earthshock’. This was the story that had made me fall out of my chair when I was a teenager back in 1982, and I couldn’t wait to see if the Cybermen turning up at the end of part 1 would have the same effect on Sue. When it came down to it, she didn’t fall out of her chair, but she did lean forwards a teeny bit, which was almost as satisfying.
Sue gave ‘Earthshock’ 9 out of 10 and the blog’s readers were thrilled, although somebody did accuse my wife of letting the side down because she didn’t approach the story with the mindset of a twelve-year-old amnesiac.
Sue’s reaction to the episode one cliffhanger is just plain wrong, because she already knows about Cybermen. Most of us watching at the time didn’t. We’d never heard of them. We just thought ‘OK, so the androids are being controlled by some other androids. Big deal. What a boring shitty cliffhanger.’ By putting Sue’s reaction on the blog like that, you’re playing right into the hands of all the shit-for-brains sheep who infect fandom with their endlessly repeated crap about how brilliant the reveal of the Cybermen was.
But there was more to ‘Earthshock’ than just its brilliant reveal of the Cybermen. There was also Adric’s unexpected death to cope with.
Sue liked Adric at first (‘He’s adorable’) but her affections soon turned to loathing (‘He’s a thick, whining brat’). In fact, one of the most entertaining things for me was watching Sue slowly fall out of love with the Alzarian pup. One minute she wanted to mother him, the next minute she wanted to smother him (‘He can’t act – and it doesn’t take a boy genius to work that out’), and when Adric was finally blown to bits, she definitely wasn’t moved to tears.
Sue: Oh, there’s no theme music.
Me: Yeah, what do you think about that?
Sue: It might have worked if a better character had died. It’s making me feel uncomfortable. Maybe they should have used a sad version of the theme music instead, you know, like they do in EastEnders. Do they have a tinkly piano version of the theme tune?
Me: No.
On the blog, several people suggested that one possible explanation for my wife’s reaction to ‘Earthshock’ is that the experiment was a complete success and I’d turned Sue into a Doctor Who fan. More prima facie evidence for her transformation into a fangirl could supposedly be found in her commentary for the twentieth-anniversary celebratory romp, ‘The Five Doctors’.
Me: Are there any old monsters you’d like to see?
Sue: The Yeti, obviously. Autons would be nice, too. Oh, and some Ice Warriors. And maybe a giant snake …
Someone on Gallifrey is misusing the Death Zone …
Sue: It could be the Black Guardian. I don’t think it will be Omega again, because it’s far too soon to have him back. Or maybe it’s the Toymaker. He is making toys after all. Or it could be the Monk …
But people needed to read on a little further to see Sue wasn’t about to turn into a fully fledged Whovian.
Me: Are you saying the Monk and the Master are one and the same person? Shall we pause the DVD and chat about that possibility for a couple of hours?
Sue: No thanks.
I believe that there’s a simpler explanation for my wife’s ebullience during this phase of the experiment: she fancied Peter Davison, aka the Fit One. She wasn’t keen on some of the Fifth Doctor’s stories (‘“Time-Flight”? They should have called it “Time-Shite”!’), but when she noticed that he was sporting black underpants under his cricket whites in ‘Castrovalva’, it was clear to everyone that she was smitten.
In fact the only time my wife wasn’t ogling the Fit One was when she was drooling over Adric’s replacement, Turlough, aka actor Mark Strickson, aka the Ginger One. As far as Sue was concerned, this was an era in Doctor Who’s history when it had ‘something for the mums’ for a change.
Peter Davison has been quite open in dismissing most of his stories as ‘crap’. And with some justification. He had to put up with not just the Myrka but also pink inflatable snakes, homicidal woodlice and an increasingly tedious and inept Master. Sue was mostly in agreement but she still seemed to be enjoying the adventures of the Fit One. If some of his stories had starred anyone other than Peter Davison – with the possible exception of David Tennant – she might have been less forgiving. When the Fifth Doctor bravely sacrificed himself to save the life of his companion in ‘The Caves of Androzani’, I noticed that my wife’s bottom lip was wobbling.
The Fifth Doctor’s final words …
The Doctor: Adric?
Sue: He still feels bad about it, doesn’t he? If I had to sum up this regeneration in one word it would have to be ‘tragic’. But in a good way.
The Doctor regenerates …
Peri: Doctor?
The Sixth Doctor: You were expecting someone else?
Sue: Well I certainly wasn’t expecting Art Garfunkel!
*
Sue didn’t have any preconceptions about Colin Baker when we started this. All she knew about him was that (a) he didn’t play the Doctor for very long and (b) he once shouted at me at a convention. However, by a strange quirk of fate, just as we were preparing to engage with the Sixth Doctor, Colin appeared as a contestant on the reality TV show I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!
Sue: Colin’s lovely. He’s my tip to win. Colin doesn’t have a bad word to say about anyone. He’s the perfect gentleman, always comforting everyone around him. He’s really, really nice. I want to give him a big c
uddle. Shame on you and John for upsetting him.
I was concerned that Sue’s newfound love for Colin Baker would skew her opinions of his Doctor. But within minutes of starting the Sixth Doctor’s first story ‘The Twin Dilemma’, it was clear that normal service had been resumed.
Sue: That was rubbish. I liked the first episode but it went downhill rapidly. Crack was very big in the 1980s, wasn’t it?
Me: What about Colin?
Sue: It’s too early to tell. He’s very loud, though. And I’m not just talking about his coat.
Me: Do you like it?
Sue: It clashes a bit.
Me: A BIT?
A brooch completes the Sixth Doctor’s new look.
Sue: At least this Doctor likes cats. He’s OK in my book if he likes cats. It’s just a shame that he’s stuck in that bloody costume. He looks like a court jester.
Around this time, we took a break from the blog and spent a few days in London. After a quick pint at the Tavern in Fitzrovia (we were quite safe, it was the wrong Thursday), we decided that it would be a good idea to get hold of tickets to the mentalist* Derren Brown’s live theatre show. During the interval, Sue’s mobile phone lit up with a text from an unrecognised number:
I can see you
We scanned the auditorium for a familiar face but couldn’t spot anyone we recognised. I was convinced the text must be part of Derren Brown’s act so I found it hard to relax and enjoy the second half; I kept thinking Derren was about to ambush us. When the curtain eventually came down, there was another text waiting:
It’s Nev and Nicola
Phew. Nev was Nev Fountain, the comedy writer best known for his work on the satirical impressionist show Dead Ringers and Private Eye magazine, as well as various plays for Big Finish and comic strips for Doctor Who Magazine.† Nicola, meanwhile, was Nev’s girlfriend. But this wasn’t any old Nicola. This was Nicola Bryant, the actress who played the Sixth Doctor’s companion, the American biology student Perpugilliam Brown – or Peri for short. We arranged to meet up after the show, even though I wasn’t too keen; I was terrified of accidentally calling Nicola Peri. But it was OK, I didn’t disgrace myself and nor did Sue – and nor, for that matter, did Nicola.
Adventures with the Wife in Space Page 17