The 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat #05 - Who Nose?

Welcome once again dear friends to the creaky old pile of half-forgotten ephemera that is the 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat! This week we are, I promise, concluding our look back at the first very range of Doctor Who action figures - or dolls as they were called back then - produced by UK toy masters, Denys Fisher in the late 1970s. And in this final installment we are looking at the nine inch plastic versions of the Doctor's most famous enemies. 

Now the first proper monster to ever appear in the show would also become the most famous - I refer of course to those genocidal pepperpots, the Daleks. These armoured horrors from Skaro first appeared back in December 1963 in the second ever Doctor Who serial, variously known as 'The Mutants', 'The Dead Planet', or simply 'The Daleks', for back then Doctor Who adventures only had production codes rather than definite titles for the story arcs, and hence strictly speaking the story is called Serial B. Anywho, these metal monsters were an instant hit, indeed so much so that the Daleks got their own spin-off toys years before there was ever a Doctor figure, with the first miniature Daleks hitting the toy shops in 1965 in a whole variety of shapes and sizes from different manufacturers. 

Now then, gingerly stepping over the tatological* tarpit that is the various breeds of toy Dalek invading the toy shelves in the mid '60s - for they were legion (see here) - all we really need to note right now is that none of them were actually what we would now call 'screen accurate'. In fairness, they were all recognisable as Daleks, and were never in any danger of being mistaken for Gareth Hunt, but they tended to sport somewhat off-piste proportions and colour schemes. Up until Denys Fisher came on the scene, the best toy dalek you could buy was one produced by another UK toy firm, Palitoy in 1975 - a battery operated talking Dalek whose only real flaw was that it was slightly on the chubby side. Hence there was still room from improvement, and indeed the Denys Fisher Dalek from 1977 was widely hailed as the most accurate toy Dalek to date. 

However that said, I always thought the Denys Fisher Dalek looked a little on the small and undernourished side. To my childish eye, it looked like a Dalek that hadn't been eating its greens, and I much prefered the chunkier Palitoy one, even if it did look like it had eaten all the pies. But as the Denys Fisher Daleks are still much sought after by collectors, and are currently going for around £500, so I'm probably in the minority there. However while we could argue all day over which of these '70s toys is the more accurate version of their screen counterparts, there is an interesting tale surrounding the colour scheme of the Denys Fisher incarnation. As you can see from the pictures, this particular Dalek has a silver body and a striking red head piece, giving it something of a sporty look. And while that colour scheme might seem a little unusual, it was familiar to 1970s kids for identical Daleks had appeared in a set of cardboard figures given away by Weetabix (a tale for another day), and in Doctor Who comic strips found in British weekly comic Countdown**.

A Weetabix Dalek card and a panel from Sub Zero published Countdown comic in 1972

However the curious thing is, despite the Skaronine terrors adopting various liveries over the years, there had never actually been a silver and scarlet model on screen, neither in the TV show, or even in the two movies starring Peter Cushing as the Doctor produced in the 1960s. However interestingly, the origin of this rogue pepperpot is tied to the creator of the Daleks themselves -no, not Davros, but writer Terry Nation. Now Nation has invented the Daleks in his script for The Mutants/Dead Planet/Serial B and had cannily retained the rights - which was why they were so heavily merchandised in the 1960s. Nation even ended up with a flotilla of Daleks of his very own, after acquiring some of the movie props, which would go out on promotional tours. In an article on the Daleks in the Radio Times special issued for the 10th anniversary of the show, old Terry was pictured at his home with his own honour guard of Skaro's finest patrolling his drive!

Terry Nation and his Skaro posse

And look, there's the Scarlet Top! So where did he come from? An unrealised outing for the Daleks perhaps? For there were a few of those down the years, most famously Nation planned to bring them into his other SF TV series Blake's 7 and tried to get a solo Dalek show on US TV.  Actually the truth is more prosaic - over the years the various Dalek props own by Nation got a bit battered during their days on the road. Sadly rumours of them smashing up hotel rooms and hanging out with Keith Moon have just been made up by me. Anyhow, due to assorted Daleks getting damaged in transit, those deemed to tatty to show to the public ended up as spare parts, and eventually lead to the creation of Scarlet Top, essentially a Skaro Frankenstein made of bit of ex-Daleks*** (more details available here). However, it would seem that reference materials provided by the Beeb for Denys Fisher featured lots of snaps from the Radio Times photo shoot, and likewise Weetabix and Countdown artist Gerry Haylock got the same press pack to work from too. And hence the Scarlet Top came into the Dalek canon...

The 10th Anniversary Doctor Who special from Radio Times 

Now then, to move on to the other arch nemesis manufactured by Denys Fisher, their nine inch Cyberman shares a similar heritage. As detailed here, their terror from Telos was clearly modelled on the Cyberman seen menacing the Third Doctor on the cover of 10th Anniversary Radio Times special - it's the silver wellies that are the give away apparently! However, it is fair to say that the resulting Cyber-doll wasn't as quite as screen accurate as their Dalek. The decision to go with fabric for the Cybersuit makes it look like it's wearing pajamas, and the pipes and chest pieces look a bit too chunky and cumbersome. Indeed the chest unit, which serves as the Cyberman's lungs by the way, often slipped down so much, it would end up being worn like a bum-bag by many Denys Fisher Cybermen.  Obviously, much of this comes down to a matter of scale - there's lots of fiddly bits on Cybermen that were hard to do well at nine inches. But none of that explains why this Cyberman is a true rogue. Look closely here...

Yes, this Cyberman has a nose! And, as far as I can tell, nobody nose why! Boom! Boom! ...Oh alright, please yourselves! But leaving the bad puns aside, the only thing I can come up with is perhaps the designers at Denys Fisher were short of pictures of Cybermen, and possibly were consulting a range of photos of assorted old Cybermen. Now over the years, the Cybermen have changed quite a lot, in in their first appearance had gauze face masks rather than steel headpieces, and hence you can see a bump where their noses were. And looking at the general features of the Denys Fisher Cyberman, it could well a result of a harassed designer attempting to synthesis the four different models of Cybermen pictured in that fabled Radio Times Special. Quite possibly while screaming "what the hell are these silver bastard things supposed to look like ?!?".  Well, that's my theory and I'm sticking to it!

A Tenth Planet Cyberman

So then dear friends, that brings us the end of this trawl through Doctor Who toys from the 1970s. However, never fear, the 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat as many. many more dubious treasure to share with you! 

*  - Yes, I did just make that word up
** - A story in which Scarlet Top appears, Sub Zero, was reprinted last month by Doctor Who Monthly as a free gift with Issue 508
*** - All together now "They have ceased to be!"

FROM THE GREAT LIBRARY OF DREAMS 29 - The Man With The Roller

This week in the Great Library of Dreams, we are returning to the Stoneground Ghost Tales, written by EG Swain, a good friend of the great MR James. In this story we hear of how Mr Batchell acquired a rather nice photograph of the vicarage at Stoneground, and what was discovered with the picture was enlarged... 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - The Man With The Roller

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FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - The Stones Are in Town!

Last week we began exploring the curious legends of stones that move by themselves, and this time we are looking at two more such rotating rocks, both of which can be found in heart of English villages.

In the lee of the Malvern Hills in Herefordshire, just near the border with Worcestershire, lies the little village of Colwall. And as you drive through the village, you will see, literally in the middle of the road, albeit on a traffic island, a large squarish stone, known unsurprisingly as the Colwall Stone. As is traditional for such prominent rocks, there are local legends that it was the work of giants, or had been dropped by The Devil. However another tale claims that every night, at the stroke of midnight the Colwall Stone turns itself around, and according to some versions, Old Nick Himself comes to do the turning. Quite why the stone turns, and indeed why it should be one of the Devil's chores, local lore never actually explains. Much like many of the old stones we are discussing in these articles, in previous times when archaeology was much younger, it was guessed that the stone was some relic of our pagan past. However in the second edition of The British, Roman, and Saxon Antiquities and Folklore of Worcestershire published in 1852, the pioneering antiquarian and folklorist Jabez Allies writes - 

There is a large block of limestone called Colwall Stone, situated by a cottage (formerly named the "Old Game Cock"), on the road-side at Colwall Green. Some have supposed that it was placed there in ancient times as a memorial of some event, or as evidence of some custom; but, upon my visiting the spot in 1846, I learned from a person in the neighbourhood, that his late father, Francis Shuter, and others, about seventy years ago, got it out of the limestone quarry, in a copse at the foot of the Wytch, and, assisted by a strong team of oxen, dragged it to its present locality; but whether it was brought there in lieu of a more ancient memorial I could not learn. It is four feet long, three feet broad, and two feet six inches thick; and I was informed that the landlord receives one penny a year rent for it.

And before we go any further, I should point out that the Wytch is a nearby place and not a local hag! So then, it is quite probable, given the local source mentioned by Allies, that in fact the stone had only been in place since around 1770. While we cannot rule out that the current stone was a replacement from an older monument, the fact that at that time rent was changing hands for the stone, one does wonder if it was some crafty ploy to give Colwall a bit of history and attract some antiquarian tourists. Certainly around this period there was a growing interest in Britain's past, and giving your home turf a bit of ancient history, the more mysterious the better, was a shrewd way to attract visitors. 

However deliberate tourist trap or not, the tales about Colwall Stone appear to be the standard lore that grows up around ancient megaliths i.e. left by giants, turning themselves. And given the stereotypical nature of the legends attached, and the extreme thinness of their details, I do rather suspect the stone, and the associated lore too, to be an 18th century *ahem* recreation, rather than something authenticly ancient. 

Another stone that has been presumed to be an ancient megalith but is actually thought to be a more recent addition to the landscape is found in the village of Pyrford in Surrey. This small standing stone sits by the side of a road and is now thought to be a boundary stone, and dating from no further back than Norman times. However this stone too is reputed to revolve at cock crow or when Pyrford church clock strikes twelve. Again there are no other details or any other attached stories, so I rather suspect that this is another case of a local stone having common legends from other megaliths grafted onto it. Indeed this theory that the lore surrounding the stone has been transplanted is strongly supported by the fact that the only church in Pyrford, St Nicholas', doesn't actually have a clock! 

However in an article Scraps of English Folklore, XII. (North Bedfordshire Suffolk, London and Surrey) by Barbara Aitken, published in  Folklore, Vol. 37, No. 1. (Mar. 31, 1926), her research conducted in the early 1900s turned up some rather more interesting local lore about the stone - 

A gardener, a resident in Pyrford but not a native, said, "I expect it was put up in remembrance of someone being killed. There's a cross scratched on it, so I expect it's like kicking a cross. Don't you know that? I've been in many parishes, and they always kick a cross in the road where anyone's been murdered or killed in an accident." Here he made a cross in the dust with his foot. "If a man's been killed in an accident on the road, the policeman'll always kick a cross; and some people keep on kicking a cross in the same place year after year. There've been several people killed on Pyrford Rough, but no one seems to trouble to keep up the crosses."

Now that sounds far more like authentic local lore - indeed so far I've been unable to find more examples from other regions of this particular little tradition. While historians think the Pyrford stone is mostly an old boundary stone, this folk rite of kicking a cross would seem to indicate that rather than being considered some ancient relic with supernatural powers, this stone was thought to have more mundane connections, a community memorial for a death on that road. 

However as fascinating as all of the above is, all it really tells us is that in the popular imagination the properties of revolving and turning were such a common feature of legends surrounding standing stones that this sort of story almost automatically becomes attached them, regardless of their actual history or folklore, in a similar way to how old empty houses quickly gain a local reputation for being haunted despite no one ever reporting ghosts and spectres there. But still we are no closer to uncovering the origins of these strange tales of rotating rocks. Next time on Folklore on Friday we shall look at some more ancient stones and see if we can shed any more light on this little mystery...