A maligned Who outing that turns out suprisingly well on a re-viewing...

Holiday camps – don't knock 'em. In this so-called 'austere' day and age, it's possible to get your very own package deal holiday by scuttling down to your local holiday camp or caravan park. There's the usual quota of kids' clubs, cheesy entertainment and some poor rascal who's being paid jack squat to stomp around in a boiling hot mascot suit on a very hot summer's day. So what with pompous arse George Osborne wielding the axe again, a holiday camp in good old Blighty is less of a financial risk than jetting off abroad.

They've always been popular though – they were hot property in the 1980s, when wonky sitcom Hi-De-Hi was on the telly – another example of a sitcom in which you could play 'Spot The Doctor Who Guest Star'. So where else could you find the one-time wife of Mehendri Solon, Vorg from Carnival Of Monsters and “Jolly What Sir” Mitchell from The Sea Devils in the same spot? Doctor Who then took this love affair with holiday camps to extremes with the 1987 story, Delta And The Bannermen, a tale that takes the already oddball season 24 into deeper eccentric waters.

This time around, the plot revolves around a bunch of dirty old scruffs called Bannermen who are chasing after a lone fugitive called Delta – the clue is in the title, you see. Delta takes refuge on a bus full of alien tourist shape-changers called Navrainos, whose holiday coach is diverted en route to a Welsh holiday camp in the 1950s. Luckily, The Doctor and Mel are on the same package deal, where together with a motley crew of eccentric beekeepers and old-school holiday camp managers, they thwart the plans of the evil Bannermen, leaving Delta to make whoopee with a native mechanic called Billy.

Delta And The Bannermen is not your average Doctor Who adventure – and since season 24 has been decidedly mixed so far, you can understand why the fans weren't best-pleased in 1987. Furthermore, fans at the time were horrified at the thought of gravestone-toothed, tickling stick-wielding loon Ken Dodd making a cameo appearance as the Tollmaster. Doctor Who has always been known though for its Morecambe And Wise ability to attract well-known guest stars - a talent that carried on in the 21st century, with the likes of Peter Kay, Kylie and old Haribo-face herself, Katherine Jenkins queuing up to appear in the show. So Doddy's brief appearance in part one isn't so painful, and the anti-Dodd brigade can at least take solace in the fact that the Tollmaster is mercilessly gunned down by the Bannermen.

"Fans tend to remember Delta And The Bannermen as a light-hearted, summery romp, but in fact, some aspects are overwhelmingly grim"

That's just one example of the clash of styles and themes present in this story. The sunny 50s rock 'n' roll elements are totally at odds with the surly Bannermen, and in particular, their greasy leader Gavrok. Gavrok's a right nasty piece of work – he has the craggy-faced look of a melted wellington boot and the hoarse, 50-a-day rasp that makes him sound like he's constantly chewing on Ghandi's flip flop. This is not the sort of man you'd want as godfather to your kids, and sure enough, he's proving his bastard credentials by shooting Doddy, hunting Delta and her kid, and blowing up a bus full of innocent people. Gavrok sums up the difference in styles in the story. Fans tend to remember Delta And The Bannermen as a light-hearted, summery romp, but in fact, some aspects are overwhelmingly grim. The wholesale destruction of the Navrainos is a key example, and works perfectly because it's such a left-field, dark moment. It's a mordant scene that Robert Holmes would have been proud of, and amazingly, Bonnie Langford's acting sells the moment too, as Mel reacts in horror at what's just happened.

It's a very human reaction in what's the most human story for quite a long time. Delta And The Bannermen is an unusual story in that it deals with a number of personal relationship issues such as unrequited love. Take poor old Ray, for example, who's in lurve with Billy, who in turn has fallen for new arrival Delta. Ironically, the one man she turns to for comfort is the most alien of the lot. Yes, the 7th Doctor is the wise old shoulder to cry on, but then, despite the pratfalling and the misquotes, this is one of the most human Doctors of the lot. There's many moments in the stories of the 7th Doctor where he conveys great sadness at past losses, whether it's his confession to Ace that he hates unrequited love or his sombre discussion with Kathleen in The Curse Of Fenric about absent family members. And here in Delta And The Bannermen, The Doctor sadly muses that: “Love has never been known for its rationality”. It's also another example of the more melancholic side of the 7th Doctor. Looking back on this incarnation, in hindsight, he was a very strong blueprint for the latest Doctors, in particular, the battle-scarred Ninth and lonesome Tenth. And incidentally, this is one of the best adventures for Sylvester McCoy, who's totally at home with his new Doctor, getting to ride motorbikes and clutching sadly at guitars.

Another human facet of Delta And The Bannermen is the way in which the day is saved. Because the story takes place in the down-to-earth locale of a holiday camp, there's no magic wand or supernatural get-out clause – instead, the surviving humans use startlingly ordinary means of defeat, like honey and bees, and amplifiers to use the Chimeron Princess' piercing scream to deafen the Bannermen and ultimately reduce Gavrok to a puff of smoke after he falls into his own deadly trap. It's a very human reaction to the problem – to not give up, and fight back against the threat with whatever resources you have, even if they seem silly. And in contrast to stories in which The Doctor saves the day with a click of the Sonic Screwdriver, Delta And The Bannermen is a refreshing contrast.

"The woeful Christmas Carol special may have used singing and music as a metaphor for good over evil, but Delta did it first, and did it much much better"

Delta's also the first example of music playing an important part in the 7th Doctor's era. If the Fifth Doctor loved cricket, and the Sixth loved cats, then Doctor number seven is definitely a music aficionado. A lot of his stories feature some form of music, whether its the sounds of the swinging 60s in Remembrance Of The Daleks, the music hall freakery of Ghost Light or the groovy jazz tunes of Courtney Pine in Silver Nemesis. Delta And The Bannermen uses 50s rock and roll to great effect, whether it's at the Shangri-La dance or even in Keff McCulloch's surprisingly effective rockabilly incidental score. And again, it's sound that saves the day in the form of the amplified shrieks from the Chimeron Princess. The woeful Christmas Carol special may have used singing and music as a metaphor for good over evil, but Delta did it first, and did it much much better. Rock and roll sure ain't noise pollution – in the context of Delta And The Bannermen, it nicely sums up the sunny optimism of humanity triumphing over the grimy evil of the Bannermen.

And even the title of the story sounds like a 50s rock and roll combo.

I'll be honest – I'm surprised by this story. I came into the review expecting to dislike Delta And The Bannermen as much as I did when I was 13, but I actually liked it a lot. As with the other season 24 stories, Delta is that more unusual and original than recent stories of the 1980s, but this time, the quirky elements are far more in tune with the dramatic ones. Malcolm Kohll's script is well written and highly imaginative, and fits an awful lot into its compact three-part structure. The Bannermen, and in particular, Gavrok are memorably grizzly foes for The Doctor to battle against. Don Henderson does an excellent job as the uncompromising thug, and proves to be one of the most memorable baddies of the McCoy years. Elsewhere, there are good performances from Richard Davies, Stubby Kaye and Sara Griffiths, and even Ken Dodd's brief turn works in the context of the story. This is also a good one for Bonnie Langford – while she's still screaming like a flame-haired banshee, this is a story that plays to her strengths. She seems far more at home in the sunny climes of the Shangri-La holiday camp, and so, turns in her best performance.

"Delta And The Bannermen marks a turning point in the McCoy years. It's the point at which the production team achieved the right balance of goofy humour and drama"

There's a supremely confident feel in this story, not just in the script, but in the execution. Chris Clough's snappy, pacy style of direction is just what this story needs, and sure enough, he delivers. The OB filming at the camp is stylishly done, his casting choices are generally good, and he definitely knows how to stage a good action scene, whether it's the opening sequences of the Bannermen hunting Delta or The Doctor hurtling down the road on a motorbike. There's only a couple of duff shots, including the wobbly cutout of the bus, or the bloke from twee accapella two-hit wonders, The Flying Pickets, getting reduced to a pair of smoking shoes. Evidently, Clough had been watching too many reruns of Never Say Never Again that year.

Delta And The Bannermen marks a turning point in the McCoy years. It's the point at which the production team achieved the right balance of goofy humour and drama. They'd largely achieve the trick again in Dragonfire, and for most of the 25th season, before toning down the humour a year later. It may have been too silly for this reviewer as a stroppy teen in 1987, but today, Delta And The Bannermen works because of its original ideas and positivity. A short but sweet break that definitely doesn't outstay its welcome.

John Bensalhia limbered up for this mammoth task with a full four-series review of Blake's 7, and writes professionally and recreationally all over the web. Check out his portfolio of work at Wordprofectors.

Check out John's previous Doctor Who review, Paradise Towers

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