The God Complex: Ranking - 233

  The God Complex

(Series 6, Dr 11 with Amy and Rory, 17/9/2011, showrunner: Steven Moffat, writer: Toby Whithouse, director: Nick Hurran) 

Rank: 233

'How did you know it was your hotel room?' 'Well, The Spice Girls had reunited, David Cameron was still in power, David Tennant's Doctor had just been on TV with Kylie Minogue as his companion and I've just run out of cereal. What do you mean this is all real and the Tardis has just taken me to Christmas 2007? Aagh!' 

There are some episodes of Dr Who that provide you with what you want, others with what you need and a few occasional ones that insist on giving you something so darn weird you would never have thought of it in a million years. And then there’s this episode, a sequel to a long maligned story from 1979 that few fans remember and even fewer like. If the comeback of Dr Who had run a million years and been sentenced to only ever re-creating bits from the past I would have still sworn that having the return of the Nimon. At least that story was set in space though, with a futuristic conceit and a vague message that made it interesting (or at least it does if you read the novelisation and try and wipe how ‘Horns Of Nimon’ turned out on screen from your mind): this one is, to all intents and purposes, set in a fading seedy hotel. And I certainly didn’t expect modern Who to go anywhere near the sensitive topic of faith and religion, something that’s rigorously checked by modern TV executives before being allowed even while they can get away with no end of gore, sex and violence in other programmes. If there’s a Dr Who story I couldn’t believe was really happening while I was watching it…Well that’s probably a tossup between the non-linear approach of ‘Warrior’s Gate’, the political whimsy of ‘The Happiness Patrol’ and the rule-breaking of ‘Love and Monsters’ to be fair, but it works for this story too. 

 Things become more clear when you realise that the writer is Toby Whithouse, fresh from the third series of the superb and under-rated British version of everybody’s favourite paranormal flat-share series ‘Being Human’. That series had just touched on similar themes of hell and how purgatory looks a lot like a faded seaside town; by the time ‘Being Human’ reaches its last hurrah in series five it’s set in a seaside motel that looks exactly like this one that’s home to the devil. The idea of a God, once feared and respected by an alien race who no longer have any reason for him to be there and who have sent him into retirement in a recreation of a place just like this, perfectly fits Whithouse’s associations of such places with a decaying anachronistic town that’s seen better days. All becomes clearer, too, when you learn that even as big a fan as Tony couldn’t actually remember the Nimon and submitted this story to Steven Moffat as a modern twist on the Greek myth about the minotaur that he’d been obsessed with growing up, figuring that the nearest place to a maze in modern life was probably a hotel corridor, one of those sprawling ones that all looks the same. It took the showrunner to point out that if they were going to another story about a minotaur they ought at least throw in a reference to the old one to keep fans like me happy. And the question of faith? Well that’s always been a part of Whithouse’s work too: ‘Being Human’ asks a lot of questions about faith and the purpose of life, with vampires so afraid of what comes next they live forever, ghosts that turn down the doors to the next world because they’re scared and werewolves who are normal most of the time but spend once a month in a howling primitive reminder of the darker forces in life. Having a beast whose turned his back on the people who worships him, but who still needs their fuel to survive because they’re afraid of dying themselves, is a small step alongside the same road. Had this been an episode of ‘Being Human’ it would have made a lot of sense and as a standalone pilot for a new weird series in its own right playing to its own rules (Whithouse name-checked ‘Sapphire and Steel’s surrealness a lot in his submission for this story), ‘God Complex’ has a lot going for it; it’s as an episode of long running series Dr Who, in between an episode about time travel and another about cyber invasions, it doesn’t quite come off. As elastic a format as Dr Who is and as welcome as rule-breaking stories are, this is a story that works to a whole different set of rules – abstract ones so alien to this series that it’s hard to wrap your head around it all. Not least because the Doctor spends the whole episode trying to work out what‘s going on, never mind us, and the explanation at the end is a bit rushed and garbled. If ever there was a Dr Who story whose ambition exceeded its grasp…Well actually it’s clearly ‘The Web Planet’ isn’t it? But if there was one story from this particular era that was maybe trying a bit too hard then ‘The God Complex is it. Everything is trying just a bit too hard to do things differently to normal, even when the story doesn’t have to, resulting in an episode that most fans watched going ‘this is a bit weird’ rather than ‘this a bit weird…and great’. 

 Still, if every episode of Dr Who had simply repeated what happened last week the show would have been off the air within months, whether that be in 1963 or 2005: we need stories like this one to push against the boundaries of what’s possible and there are still many things going for it. The claustrophobia for one thing – the maze of corridors stretching endlessly on, always leading the characters back where they started, is a really neat idea. We're more than used to running down corridors in Dr Who, but never has a story felt as if the corridors were running after the cast and chasing them! The idea of rooms full of phobias is a very Who idea too, especially in the Moffat era when jump-scares were big. It’s all very George Orwell (‘1984’ is where the concept of ‘room 101’ filled with your worst fears comes from – it’s where Michael Grade once banished Dr Who on his appearance on the TV version and where most fans would like to banish Michael Grade) and Orwell is an oddly unused influence in Who despite writing about all sorts of very Who-like suppressed societies (the other story resembling an Orwell story is ‘The Macra Terror’ if you’re wondering). It’s also a useful way of sketching in the characters of lots of people very quickly (because nothing tells you more about a person than what they’re afraid of. Except perhaps what their taste in books and music and what their favourite Dr Who story is). Although even there the choices are a bit odd: we start with a girl being chased by a gorilla from a TV show who seems more cute than sinister, move on to ventriloquist dummies and on to a group of girls laughing at a nerd. Even Rory, after all the things he’s seen, is more scared of his old p.e. teacher than any amount of monsters he’s seen. None of these are scary to anyone except the 0.001% of the audience scared by the same things. Where are the lions, the fireballs, the crashed cars and planes and trains? Given the writer’s credentials you’d expect some vampires, werewolves and ghosts in there somewhere too. I mean, I get it, phobias are subjective and personal (the stop-frame animation of ‘Wind In The Willows’ would have been in my room as a five-year-old and I’m probably the only person who was ever scared of it) but it’s a hard sell to the viewers at home when the things that appear to kill people are silly rather than scary. It also feels suspiciously as if these are rooms full of scary things the budget can afford rather than what people could really have. 

The idea of a group of aliens apparently collected together at random is a good one: it’s a worthy opportunity to expand the Whoniverse and show the different creatures exist in it. That’s clearly what’s happened in the past given the ‘rogue’s gallery’ on the wall made up of a Sontaron, a Judoon, A Sister of Plenitude (see ‘New Earth’), a Tritovore (see ‘Planet Of The Dead’) and a Hoix (briefly seen in ‘Love and Monsters’). There are also a number of humanoids scattered throughout, all of them members of the Who production office: one at the back is executive producer Beth Willis, the one labelled Rosyton Luke Gold is producer Marcus Wilson and Lady Silver-Tear is petty cash buyer Kate Wilson (with rumours about which other members of the production team the monsters are meant to represent!) Most of these have sensible, albeit budget stretching phobias, like Daleks. However what do we get on screen? They’re all human, with the exception of the Tivolians, a race we’ve never seem before, who just end up looking like a bald David Walliams. Once again with this series the idea was there: a subservient race of cowards who hand their planet over to whoever wants it because they’ve learned it’s the best way to survive is a terrific idea and the gag that their national anthem is ‘Glory to [insert name here]’ the best line of the episode (the second best gag is one that got cut: the Doctor says ‘Surrender is not in my vocabulary’ before Gibbis replies ‘Really? There are 56 different words for it in mine!’) But in practice it’s annoying having a character that’s a collaborator with the enemy constantly trying to sell the others out and illogical the way even the Doctor assumes he’s going to come good when left with the prisoner when a human named Joe falls under the Minotaur’s spell, rather than being talked into letting him go the way everyone at home assumes from the first. I mean, we could have had the Sontaron whose picture was hanging on the wall instead of one of the least likeable creatures in all of Who. One of many little problems I have with this story though: why are there faces of the dead up at all? It doesn’t serve the Minotaur and all it does is make his food supply feel that bit more hopeless (and unbelieving). 

 The idea of pulling all these people out of time is a genuinely creepy and unsettling one, right up there with the darkest Who stories. And yet ‘The God Complex’ doesn’t make the moat of that idea either. The internal logic for why the Minotaur has brought people here and why just doesn’t make any sense: the ending (spoilers) hangs round the fact that the Minotaur can eat people’s faith as food and that since people stopped worshipping him to keep him alive he had to get his fuel from other sources who’ll have faith in any old thing. Even allowing for the fact that Dr Who is a series about things humans can’t possibly understand…How does that work exactly? What evolutionary cul-de-sac did minotaur DNA go down so that this was the only way they could eat? And how do minotaurs have young? This one is clearly dying on its feet so they’re not immortal. What does a big bowl of faith krispies even taste like? And how does the Minotaur choose these people, who don’t seem to have crossed paths whim him before? Is it random? Were they chosen at a point of devotion to something that made them particularly ‘cooked’ for him to eat? This is also one of those times when the answer is far dafter than the hypothesis the Doctor is working from for most of the episode (that these people have been chosen because the creature lives off their fear, which would at least make some sense of the phobias). But putting people in a situation of making them face their fears doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll fall back on their faith. And some of these faiths are a bit dodgy in the first place, not what we would really think of as ‘faith’: Joe is a gambler whose faith is in luck, but surely he stopped believing in luck the minute he was whacked out of time and ended up in a fading hotel with a room ful of ventriloquist dummies? Then we have Howie, the most annoying archetypal Dr Who nerd since ‘Whizzkid’ in ‘The Greatest Show In The Galaxy’, albeit he turns out to be a Trekkie instead. What’s his faith in? Conspiracy theories. Which makes him the least sort of person to have faith in anything doesn’t it? I mean, it’s more about people (the government, the media, institutions, companies) telling you lies than believing in a truth about anything. What’s Gibbis the Tivolian’s faith exactly? It can’t be that he’ll be eaten/killed/conquered because their whole race’s attitude is about finding the easiest way to survive by giving in: if they fought back they would be more likely to die. It can’t be in someone that can save him, because his race stopped believing in heroes a long time ago. It could be the belief that there’s nothing and no one to believe in, but that just seems weird and contradictory, not a belief at all. It surely would have made much more sense to turn things around and have an arrogant character who believed he was at the top of the food chain, with the Minotaur showing that he/she wasn’t. What happens to all the hotel 'guests' who are fatalistic and assume there's no way out, with no belief in anything? (After all, that tends to be the emotion I feel staying in a run-down hotel). And what’s Rory’s faith in exactly? Amy? 

 There are only two people’s faith in this story that makes sense. Rita is another of this story’s brave decisions, the first beyond-a-doubt Muslim character seen onscreen since ‘The Crusade’ in 1965 (I mean, other characters might well have been down the years too, but kept it to themselves). It could be that Whithouse (an atheist) was thinking about Jahannam, the Islamic equivalent of Christianity’s Hell, where those unfaithful to their religion are sent on Judgement Day (though I guess technically it’s that in reverse, as the people here are too faithful for their own good). It’s a brave move to have mention of this in a story where faith turns out to be a load of baloney and mere fuel for a God that isn’t a God; given the sensitive climate (we’re four years away from the massacre of the staff at France’s Charlie Hebdo satirical magazine for poking fun at Allah) it feels like a fight they didn’t’ need to pick (Christians or Buddhists would have worked just as well). I mean, I’m glad it’s there for the purposes of representation and it’s well handled: Rita genuinely believes and she’s such a plucky capable character the Doctor cheekily tells Amy she’s fired at one point, his grief at not being able to save her near the end a really strong emotional moment that’s the best scene in the episode. Talking of Amy being fired, though, her faith is in the Doctor and he has to break her faith in him, just like he did with Ace in ‘The Curse Of Fenric’. That scene was truly powerful: you can see all sorts of emotions plough out across Ace’s face as she’s haunted by the idea that she’s just been abandoned by the only person in the universe that ever understood her, turning angry and bitter and all the things the Doctor has been slowly pushing out of her. But Amy? Nothing. Not a flicker. Even Matt Smith, on such good talkative form for the rest of the episode, completely under-sells this scene and there’s no later one, like ‘Fenric’, where he comforts his companion and shows that it was all a lie to save her. 

 And what’s behind the Doctor‘s door? We’re teased by room #11, staring at Matt Smith’s head as we hear the Tardis cloister bell chime and hear him mutter ‘of course’ before quietly shutting the door. Speculation was rife online, which was surely the point: could it be him trying to save The Master as a little boy and failing? The moment in ‘Genesis Of The Daleks’ when he could have prevented the time war? The time war itself? The death of Amy and Rory? The memories of any of his regenerations? The loss of Susan? The marriage of Peri and Brian Blessed? Rose trapped in a parallel dimension? Running away from home in the first place? The parallel Earth being drilled to death in ‘Inferno’? (Well, that was the phobia the Keller machine picked up on in the very-similar-yet-very-differently-executed ‘The Mind OF Evil’, although of course he had only just been through those events). The death of Adric? It’s not really the fault of this episode but the final Matt Smith story ‘Time Of the Doctor’ ended all that speculation by revealing that the thing in the universe the Doctor was most scared of was…the crack in Amy’s bedroom wall as first seen in ‘The Eleventh Hour’. That’s a bit underwhelming isn’t it? I mean, notwithstanding the fact it once ate the Tardis, surely you just need a painter and decorator to fix that? Even being teased with it here in this episode, feels wrong: so much of this story is about the need t face up to your fears (and risk being eaten, even if you’re a Tivolian), of people’s capacity to be brave even when the odds are against them. Not seeing the Doctor’s phobia – the only one we don’t see – feels like a copout. It’s a real lost opportunity in an episode full of them. One other odd thought: it’s neat the Doctor’s room is #11, just like his number (discounting the war Doctor that hasn’t been invented yet and the ‘Timeless Children’ lot), while this phobia is very much relates to this Doctor. What would have happened if another Doctor had come along? Did they all have their own doors? Is there one filled with burnt toast and bus stations for the 7th Doctor, an ongoing trial for the 6th Doctor where all his companions get married off to Brian Blessed (even the boys) and a room full of impossible googlies being bowled at the 5th Doctor?) If so then why does room #7 belong to someone else? 

Another letdown is the minotaur itself. It’s easy to see who wears the hot-pants in the Nimon-Mino family: as silly as his dress sense was, as over-the-top as his actions were and as ripe as a lot of the dialogue on ‘The Horns Of Nimon’ was at least he felt like a real threat and that it took a lot out of the Doctor and Romana trying to defeat him. This Minotaur is just having a nap and doesn’t look scary in the least. Even with all the advances of technology and prosthetics sine the 1970s (of which ‘Nimon’ was the very last broadcast story of the decade) and being basically a head worn as a hat the Nimon felt more real somehow; the Minotaur is another of those early 2010s Dr Who monsters whose face doesn’t move except the eyes, whose mouth moves un-convincingly and whose hide is so thick it looks more like a rubber suit than anything from the 20th century (the Judoon suffer from this too but at least they’re meant to resemble rhinocerouses). Even given that the Minotaur is older and hungrier, fading away from lack of food and even though I wouldn’t want to be in a locked room with him standing up at full height (he’s played by 6 foot 7” retired kickboxer Spencer Wlding) it’s all a bit underwhelming as climaxes go. I mean, a being that can transport people from all over the universe is colossally powerful (which leads to another point: surely doing that involes more effort than the Minotaur gets from feeding off people given his dilapidated state here. So why do it? Or if you have to do this then why not choose the people off a nice nearby planet that doesn’t wear you out so much?) Too many of the plots in the 11th Doctor era are sold to us as ‘mysteries’ when they don’t really need to be (this is the era of ‘Lost’ and ‘Heroes’ after all, the latter starring Christopher Eccleston) and this is one of the worst in that regard. However even a series as bonkers as 'Lost' would never come up with something quite this bonkers or illogical. And that ending! Murray Gold’s pompous choir is totally wrong for it: this is a sudden cold hard realisation, the dawning on the Doctor that he’s been wrong about this being all this time and that, like him, it just wants to die. It’s a quiet sombre moment. And what do we get? Schmaltz. If The Spice Girls are blocked from appearing in my ‘God Complex’ room (for copyright reasons?) then I reckon it will be accompanied by a Murray Gold moment just like this one, all fake tinsel and trappings. 

 That all sounds as if I hated this episode but I didn’t. There are lots of parts to admire and even some to love. By Dr Who’s 48th year it was getting harder and harder to find new things the show hadn’t done and new places to do them in, but a fading hotel (the suggestion of Steven Moffat, who’d just got lost in one that seemed like a maze) is a whole new aesthetic for the show. The hotel corridors are a set created in the studio but it really does look as if they filmed on location in an actual crumbling resort (the lobby with bar and stairs is the only part that’s ‘real’ – it’s The Seabank Hotel in Porthcawl). It feels somehow ‘right’, despite the weird internal logic, with all those lost yesteryears and mental ghosts from better days floating around in the present. I love the parts where the Doctor is confronted with a more abstract fear, that he’s uncomfortably like the Minotaur feeding off people’s adoration of him and using it as fuel, even when he puts them in danger. There’s a very clever line (Whithouse’s starting point for the episode) of ‘an ancient creature, drenched in the blood of the innocent, drifting in space through an endless shifting maze’. Even though this story was first submitted for series five (and replaced by Whithouse’s ‘The Vampires Of Venice’) it works perfectly amongst the arc of series six where the Doctor realises how many people are afraid of him and how many good people lost their lives fighting for him. Even though they’re undone a mere two weeks later with ‘The Wedding Of River Song’ finale the scenes of him dropping Amy and Rory off in a house he’s bought specially for them, so shocked is he by the events in this episode, are moving indeed (even so you’d think Amy would put up more of a fight than this: it wasn’t just the Doctor’s choice that she travelled with him, however neat the Doctor’s conclusion that offering all of time and space to someone is an offer they can’t refuse and shouldn’t be blamed for, like a bag full of sweets to a child when there are no grown-ups around). 

Then again Amy’s not herself all round in this episode: she ‘forgets’ to pass a note she found on the hotel floor to the Doctor, even though they’re in an impossible life and death situation where they need all the info they can get (no wonder he bops her on the nose with it!) Amy is usually the smartest most observational cookie in the box yet she’s really slow when the Doctor is having an existential crisis and trying to leave them at home – a home he just bought for them. Rory, more of a sort of middling biscuit in these sort of things, gets it straight away (she’s in denial?) She also makes a joke that’s very un-Amy actually and more something Rory would say, asking if there’s a horde of space goblins behind the door (I mean, that would be silly. Or at least it was until ‘The Church On Ruby Road’). Rory, however, cares less about the major life change of leaving his friend and his time machine behind and more interested in the car the Doctor’s got him – despite having never shown the slightest interest in cars on screen before and since (a 1971 E-type Jag also seems a very showy-offy car for Rory; it’s more an Amymobile). Plus it’s another of this story’s odd bits of internal logic that there’s a house immediately waiting for them, in the right timezone, that the Doctor can land next to safe in the knowledge it’s there. Did he ring up an estate agent from the Tardis without them seeing? Or did he have it ready just in case? (I’m putting forward the theory that it’s the house in Baker Street he had when stranded on Earth as Paul McGann in the aptly named Big Finish series ‘Stranded’; I have heard some fans ask if it’s the house he had during his UNIT days but it would be too derelict surely; plus I always like to think that he slept in the Tardis). 

 The title, in particular, is one of the cleverest in the entire series (and one that, very unusually for Who, Whithouse had at the start of writing his story that wasn’t changed as the story took shape or by an anxious showrunner worried about scaring people off: it’s not all that many years after Phillip Hinchcliffe rejecting ‘The Day God Went Mad’ in favour of ‘The Face Of Evil’ after all and telly is still overly sensitive when it comes to religion). For the first third you’re convinced we’re in a ‘complex’ in the ‘Paradise Towers’ sense and that the ‘God’ part is just a name. Then for the next third you start to suspect the truth, that it’s about a fading God with complex powers using people to feed off. And then in the finale it becomes clear that it’s about the Doctor, suffering from a ‘God complex’, thinking they’re better smarter and more brilliant than anyone else in the room - when, as this story reveals, they can still get things wrong and that these mistakes get people hurt. ‘The God Complex’ is one of the biggest life lessons the 11th Doctor ever learns and it’s one that makes a lot of sense of him as a character: he inherited all the weight carried round by the War, 9th and 10th Doctors but is so desperate to break free from it, the regeneration whose naturally young and the one who, left to his own devices, is most likely to act like a carefree child. At the same time, though, this is a regeneration who can’t avoid his responsibilities which turn him alien, sulky and impossibly old, the oldest grown up in the universe who desperately yearns to be a child. It’s the dichotomy at the heart of this particular Doctor, the contradiction that makes him much more than just a David Tennant clone and few stories sum that up better than this one. Whithouse writes some of the best dialogue the 11th Doctor ever gets, really apturng his energy and manic glee, and although his three stories are all a mixed bag in other ways (‘School Reunion’ was his first) it’s a real shame that he didn’t get a crack at being showrunner (‘Being Human’ proves how good he is at juggling characters and perfecting long series arcs). 

 That said, the tension as the supporting cast are picked off one by one is pure Moffat though, Dr Who at its most horror movie-ish and you really feel for the characters as they try to escape but find their personal doors instead (full of psychopaths, clowns and p.e. teachers. Who are one and the same aren't they?!) There are lots of scares to be had in this story, even if they’re in a more abstract surreal way than normal (and reportedly even more abstract before executive producer Beth Willis put her foot down and invented the concept of the doors having actual physical objects). It’s a story that stays with you long after you’ve finished it this one, too scary to be fully dismissed as silly, too unsettling to be nonsense and too emotional to be dismissed. Of all the stories in ‘comeback’ Who this is the one that best captures the popular Hinchcliffe ‘horror’ era and is more original than any of the Dracula/ Frankenstein/The Fly/Triffid clones of the era itself to boot. I also can’t wait for the inevitable spin-off Big Finish audio about the unseen adventures on Raven’s Gala with the 600 foot tall beings who you can only talk to from hot air balloons (now that The Beatles have been done this is the place I’d most request the Tardis to go that hasn’t already been seen on screen). 

 I just wish the logic made more sense, that the ending hadn’t been such a letdown and that the supporting cast had been more interesting. There are, after all, quite a lot of them and none of them get enough screen time for you to care about them (even Rita is more sad because of what it does to the Doctor than how we feel about her, with her phobia of her dad shouting at her for failing her exams something of an unfortunate ethnic stereotype). The result is an impressively complex story with several memorable moments that felt for the opening as if it was going to be the pick of the year but then just gradually slipped away to somewhere near the bottom. This was, though, perhaps the last year when Dr Who was just so good every week that even being at the bottom of a pile like this only flattens the verdict out to be ‘a flawed hot mess with great ideas’ rather than awful. Our faith as fans in our favourite series isn't tested. Yet (see the many 2012-2023 episodes already discussed for that!) 

 Oh one last weird point: The Doctor calls Rory’ Mickey’ in the first scene with the regulars and nobody bats an eyelid. Was this a mistake (Whithouse had written for the 10th Doctor –Rose era after all) or a joke (that fell flat because his companions wouldn’t have known what he was talking about); it’s almost unique to have Dr 11 continue a joke from a past regeneration. For some reason, even though fans pore every other minute detail, as far as I know no ne else has ever mentioned this (or maybe it’s my ears going. I blame all those explosions they keep having on Big Finish…) 

 POSITIVES + At it's best Dr Who mixes the ordinary with the extraordinary in such a way that you'll never view them the same way ever again. The opening shots of a befuddled Doctor trying to draw on his thousand-ish years of experience to try to solve this puzzle and work out whether they're really in a run-down hotel with fading 1980s decor to the revelation that they're all on an alien space station at the prey of a ravenous alien minotaur to the extra revelation that he's the last of his kind and just wants help in dying is exactly the sort of thing this show was made for and why its usp is so wide and so successful. Other shows just aren't this imaginative or come with this much heart(s). 

 NEGATIVES - Some of the acting though is patchy at best. We should be on the side of a nerd like Howie but he really is annoying – for all Whithouse’s attempts to layer on how great it is that he’s overcome his stammer and made so many personal strides your first instinct at him ending up Minotaur food is to cheer so he won’t be harping on about conspiracy theories again. Gambler Joe goes mad early on (why? What good is that to the Minotaur’s food supply? Or is it just an unfortunate side effect, like catching the odd fish that’s rotten?) but there have been far better depictions of madness in the series than this. The worst is Gibbis with David Walliams hopelessly miscast as a Tivolian, with several laboured comedy moments and makeup that doesn’t actually change Walliams’ appearance that much (the bald head is the biggest one). If he had to be there then the way to play him would be sweet, to get the audience's sympathies, but instead Walliams just makes him unbearably smug and annoying. So far we’ve never met any other Tivolians. Perhaps they’re all back on their home planet hiding under the nearest table? 

BEST QUOTE: Gibbis: ‘All I want to do is go home and be conquered and oppressed. Is that too much to ask?’ 

PREQUELS/SEQUELS: ‘The Horns Of Nimon’ features the Minotaur’s close cousin. 

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