This month, a celebrity encounter brings back some happy childhood memories... but what was the Doctor Who story that just went round and round?

So I was in BBC New Broadcasting House and I bumped into Louis Theroux.

(Okay, this is going to be a showbiz story. Yes, there’s lots to talk about, with the season just gone, and come back next month when I have important things to say about Ruby Sunday and that Woman. But c’mon, showbiz is calling, so bear with me, back to NBH…)

I don’t really know Louis Theroux, we’ve never met, though I’m a big fan. And I know him to say hello to, because I once ended up on a Zoom with him. He’s lovely! And I know his son is a fan of Doctor Who. As, I think, was Louis, when he was young.

So we say that clumsy hello of people who’ve only ever met on Zoom. “It’s you! Yes. Hah. In the flesh. Hello!” And he’s a very clever man, he quickly gets to the heart of what I’m thinking. Yes, we’re watching, he says. Phew! And then he says, it’s great, but we’ve just paused halfway through Dot and Bubble so I haven’t seen that properly yet.

I can guarantee you, faithful reader, during everything else that was said that day, I’m only really thinking: at which point in Dot and Bubble would you press pause?! After the lift? Has Lindy met Ricky September? Or are Bertie Lester’s legs still visible?

But Louis goes on, saying it’s great now, cos you can look up all the old stories from the Whoniverse on the iPlayer, and they’ve just had a wonderful time, him and his son, watching, what’s it called? That one with the dragon, in London, and the Chinese God, and that marvellous man who’s the owner of the theatre and he keeps talking brilliantly, it’s so funny. Oh, I say! The Talons of Weng-Chiang! Henry Jago! I start quoting the Crone’s dialogue from Part One. “Never seen anything like it in all my puff!” Louis hooting, yes, that’s it! He says, oh the dialogue is so well written in that, it’s so tight, every line counts. I say, written by Robert Holmes, one of the all-time greats.

At this point, Jane Tranter arrives, hello, hug, hello Louis (she knows everyone!) and I’m aware that behind us, a huge BBC screen keeps showing Ncuti reaching out of the Time Vortex. And to complete the picture, across the foyer, a security guard sits next to a replica TARDIS, and behind that, far down a corridor, a Dalek. Bronze Time War. Never doubt that this place loves its Doctor Who.

Louis hasn’t stopped. He wonders, what’s that other story? From years ago? There’s a lot of guests. And then the whole thing goes round and round and it sort of… doesn’t stop?

Um. What can that be? Argh. I am determined not to be beaten. Identifying old stories? In BBC HQ? With Louis Theroux? Oh, I was born for this. But I’m stumped, I can feel a slight panic rising, I say, what d’you mean, guests? He says, it’s like they’re in a party. At which point, my mind jumps tracks, and goes to this magazine, back when it was Doctor Who Weekly - yes, you used to get all of this weekly! Golden days. And there was a comic strip called Ship of Fools where Kroton, the Cyberman with feelings, finds himself trapped in a time-looping party. I ask, did you read the comics when you were young? Were they on board a kind of space-going Flying Dutchman?

No, it wasn’t the Flying Dutchman. But! Yes! You’re right, it was some sort of boat.

Oh! I say, leaping back to 1973, it’s Carnival of Monsters! They’re on board a ship that keeps time-looping and it turns out they’re trapped on a big miniaturised exhibit thing? The Miniscope?

Yes, that’s the one! And we hoot. The joy of recognition. I say, that’s Jon Pertwee, and I tell him he can find it on the iPlayer. And hey, though I love classic Doctor Who, I wonder for a terrible second whether to warn him that, um, maybe it’s not the best-looking episode ever made… but no, to hell with it, look how a good idea has echoed down the years, who cares if the prosthetics slip? Instead, I say with all of my heart, that’s one of the greatest ideas ever, and you will love it.

And then we’ve got to go, bye bye, nice to meet you, and Jane and I head off. But, no, stop. Mindful of you, faithful reader, I run back and say, Louis, I write a page in Doctor Who Magazine every month, and this would be a great little story, do you mind? Not at all, he says. And here we are. Sanctioned!

But it’s funny to think. For a couple of minutes, there they were, Carnival and Weng-Chiang, hanging in the air, bristling and popping with zesty life, here in 2024. Back in the day, when Barry Letts produced Carnival and Philip Hinchliffe produced Weng-Chiang, they worked out of cramped, brown offices in Union House in Shepherd’s Bush, all tiles and wood and cigarette smoke. Those precious episodes were shown once and, they thought, never again. Today, we’re in a gleaming technological hub right in the heart of the city of London, broadcasting in formats they could never have imagined, and yet here’s their work, their beautiful work, still alive, still available, still loved and adored and being celebrated out loud, right in the heart of the BBC.

Wonderful!