50 Years of Joy

I cannot let the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who slip by without nailing some personal thoughts about my relationship with the show to my blog. It's been a close relationship in some ways. It's certainly been an influential one.

I'm two years older than the show but I was too young to appreciate its impact upon kids until I was about six or seven. By then William Hartnell had hung up his wig and retired, bloody but unbowed, so my first memories are glimpses of terrifying giant crab claws and of choking foamy suds (the Macra Terror and Fury From The Deep respectively) overwhelming Pat Troughton's cosmic hobo.

I quite clearly remember Troughton's final series. 1969 was an extraordinary year for this young impressionable Cornishman; not only did I watch Apollo 11 touch down on the surface of the Moon ... I also saw Troughton regenerate into Jon Pertwee at the end of episode 10 of The War Games. Or, rather, I didn't. I saw him gurning and shouting 'No! No! No!' a lot while spinning around in something not unlike the video for Bohemian Rhapsody ... and that was it! We were left hanging as to what would happen next. And what did happen next was ... colour!

Now, I had seen some Doctor Who in colour already. Like many kids my age, I'd been to see the two Peter Cushing films - Doctor Who and the Daleks (1965) and Daleks Invasion Earth 2150 (1966) - and had marvelled at seeing everyone's favourite xenophobic pepperpots in glorious technicolour. If I'm honest, we didn't care that Cushing wasn't Troughton; fandom back then wasn't quite so rabid and exhaustingly nit-picking as it is today. Yes, it was an obvious attempt to cash-in on the popularity of the Daleks. Yes, they were clumsy re-hashes of two Hartnell stories with Terry Nation's scripts hacked to pieces. And yes, they were camp and pretty terrible. But don't be so sniffy! Remember, what we were seeing were production values that far outstripped the TV show. Oddly enough, we under-10s didn't care about who the Doctor was. We went 'Oooh!' and 'Aahh! at the big screen Bakelite flying saucers, we laughed at Bernard Cribbens trying to be a Roboman and we drank in the glorious colours. The films had a big impact on us kids and I genuinely find it a bit sad that Cushing's Doctor seems to have been completely written out of the celebrations. If he did one good thing, it was to make us all go home and pester our parents to start renting (nobody bought a TV back then) a colour TV so that we could see the new Doctor in colour, like at the cinema. We pestered and we pestered. And, in my case, me and my brothers won. Jon Pertwee arrived on our spanking new colour TV screen in 1970 with Spearhead from Space and we were agog. We were also a little puzzled that he had a tattoo. Did Time Lords have tattoos? I guess it did look a bit like a question mark; a motif that was later repeated in shirt collars, tank tops and umbrella handles. Or is it a snake? Eek! The mark of the Mara!!!

Incidentally, another Doctor who has been written out of the history of the show is Trevor Martin. He had appeared in the TV show - he played the character of 'Second Time Lord' in that scene in The War Games when Troughton is sentenced to regeneration. But he also played the Doctor in Doctor Who and the Seven Keys to Doomsday at the Adelphi Theatre in London, a 1974 stage play that, like the films, was non-canonical ... but we didn't care! It was Doctor Who! On stage! The show was written by long-time Who writer Terrance Dicks and parts of it - such as the planet Karn - later turned up in the Tom Baker era story The Brain of Morbius ... which also introduced us to the Sisterhood of Karn, who recently appeared in Paul McGann's Night of the Doctor. So there's a link from the stage play right through to the present, which is nice to see. The stage show script has since been recorded as an audio drama with Trevor Martin reprising his role.

Pertwee cemented my love of Doctor Who forever. He was funny, heroic, gallant, smart ... the perfect role model. His era also coincided with my descent into puberty and his assistants, Liz Shaw, Jo Grant and Sarah Jane Smith, did much to get the hormones sloshing. I was now hooked on the show. I bought the annuals and the Target novelisations. I bought some Daleks at Butlin's with ballbearings underneath that you could flick at each other like Subbuteo players. I entered Doctor Who competitions - I cannot begin to tell you how envious I was of my best mate Huw Williams when he won a Blue Peter 'design a monster' competition and got taken to London to meet Tom Baker. Grrr. I don't mind admitting that it became a mild obsession.

The Three Doctors (1973) was a proper national TV event. Everyone I knew made sure they were in to watch it (much as people will tonight for the 50th). And it was wonderful; particularly to see Troughton and Hartnell in colour for the first time. The Radio Times published a special 10th anniversary magazine, in the back of which were comprehensive plans to build a life sized Dalek. Our technology teachers at school didn't need much persuading to have a crack at it; it made a pleasant change from building go-karts with lawnmower engines. Schools up and down the country built their own Daleks ... I wonder what happened to them all?

But soon, Pertwee's reign was over and the inimitable Tom Baker arrived and placed his indelible stamp on the character. And my mum knitted me a long multi-coloured scarf believing that I'd love it (I did) and that it would make me look cool (it didn't). It was too embarrassing to wear around town or to school but I did wear it 'ironically' in my later teens.

Like many teenagers, I was starting to experiment with writing. And I wrote Doctor Who stories, typically involving plots and monsters that were Hollywood epically huge; things that would never appear on the TV show like exploding suns and planet-sized creatures. I wrote more and more and they got better and better. Of course, it was just for my own amusement but there was always the thought that maybe ... just maybe ... I'd one day be able to write for the show.

My teens came to an end and in 1980 I headed off to London to become a police officer. And the Doctor changed once again. The gloriously eccentric and wickedly betoothed Tom Baker morphed into the youthful, clean-cut Peter Davison in 1982 and I found myself suddenly in an unprecedented position; it turned out that one of my neighbours worked in the VT editing suite at the BBC. Initially all this meant was that I got to see the infamous BBC Christmas 'white tapes' containing rude, sweary and hilarious outtakes (this was before It'll be Alright on the Night and such shows). But when I saw two Tom Baker outtakes, I couldn't help asking whether he had any link to Doctor Who. He did. He was one of the editors. And, what's more, he set me up with a studio visit. Which is how, a short time later, I found myself at the BBC on the prehistoric set for the filming of the story Time Flight and chatting to the then producer John Nathan-Turner.


Of course, being ever the opportunist I asked about writing for the show. Back then there was a more open door policy and, having shared some of my ideas, John asked me to send him a couple of my stories. In recent years he's been portrayed as something of a predatory figure but I experienced none of that. He was a lovely guy; okay, so he was as camp as a cake stand and had a taste in Hawaiian shirts that bordered on the insane, but he liked my ideas and, over several meetings, we talked about how I could hone them down into usable scripts - I'm afraid my imagination and vision far outstripped what the BBC visual effects department could manage back then. Anyway, I watched several more episodes being filmed at BBC television centre and witnessed the changeover from Davison to Colin Baker. I then had to do a rewrite of my scripts to accommodate the change to Baker's Doctor and saw parts of The Twin Dilemma being filmed with those bloody awful Tractators. But, for one reason or another, my show never quite got made. I got close - at one point one of mine was in a toss up with two others - but just got pipped at the post. By better writers; I have no illusions about that! That said, it's a great shame I fell short of the goal as I will never get that chance again now that the show is so huge. One current Doctor Who writer, Paul Cornell, suggested to me that I write my scripts up as novelisations. I might well do that one day when I get time.

Colin Baker was unpopular from the outset - a great shame as he's a genuinely lovely bloke - and, sadly, the series was starting to look cheap. Or cheaper. We can look back on them now with nostalgia and fondness but, at the time, I felt really sorry for them; they had a shoestring budget and the post-Star Wars cinema and TV sci-fi boom in the USA was putting our shows to shame. Colin was swiftly replaced by Sylvester McCoy but the show never seemed to quite recover. I still loved it and I watched it avidly. And, all the while, my collection of memorabilia continued to grow. I had the autographs of the first five Doctors. I had all of the annuals and Target and Peter Haining books. I had the Radio Times 10th and 20th anniversary special magazines and a pristine copy of the Radio Times The Five Doctors issue with that fantastic painted cover by Andrew Skilliter.

I'd also, quite bizarrely, taken possession of an original copper plaque of Doctor Who and the Seven Keys to Doomsday that had once graced the Adelphi theatre. While returning from the BBC after a meeting, I'd been discussing the show with a cabbie and he told me he had the plaque (he said he'd got it from his son who worked in theatre) and asked if I wanted to buy it. So I did. I then checked with the Adelphi to see if it was nicked (I was a cop after all!) but they expressed no interest in it at all. Extraordinary.

Anyway, as you know, the show eventually came to a grinding halt for all sorts of reasons and the last we saw of the Doctor for some time was McCoy's 1989 morality tale Survival, written by Rona Munro, one of a criminally few female writers on the show. McCoy was to return to the role one more time, albeit briefly, in the TV movie that introduced us to Paul McGann's eighth Doctor, but he did leave us a legacy of great audio adventures and appearances in the New Adventures books. These should not be swept under the carpet like Cushing's films and Trevor Martin's stage show often are. They filled a seven year void between 1989 and 1996, when the TV series was off air. Are they canon? I'm not sure. But with Paul McGann saluting his companions - Charley, C'rizz, Lucie, Tamsin and Molly from the Big Finish audio adventures - in Night of the Doctor there is an argument to say 'maybe' at least.

I even bought (to my eternal shame) the Doctor in Distress single. But hey ... it was for charity. And there was a precedence - I'd also bought Jon Pertwee's Who is the Doctor? years before. Yike.



The TV movie was the last that we'd see the Doctor for some time. And, while it had its flaws (and contradictory plot holes - the Doctor is half human??) it did give us Paul McGann who was fantastic in the role. But not fantastic enough for the sponsors, sadly, and the rogue Gallifreyan disappeared for a further nine years until Christopher Ecclestone brought him triumphantly back into our lives.

Again, the gap was bridged by books, audio adventures and even fan-made films so people like me were kept entertained. But it wasn't the same as having the show on TV and I'm genuinely sad that my own kids - born in 1985 and 1989 respectively - were part of the unfortunate generation who grew up without Doctor Who. Well, they didn't ... not as long as my video and, later, DVD player was functioning. In the meantime, I sold off all of my memorabilia to buy cots and prams and to get my first mortgage. It hurt, I can tell you. And, since the reboot, it would all now be worth so much more. Sobs! My one regret was selling the copper plaque. I didn't even have the sense to take a photo of it before I let it go. Such a shame. But, it did sell for a lot and I did need the money back then.

In the past five years or so I've made the effort to watch every single Doctor Who episode (and its spin-offs) that still exists. And, even if the episodes don't exist any longer, I've watched or listened to the reconstructions. It's been worth every minute and I got to relive some amazing childhood memories.

So, there you go. My 50 year relationship with the show continues unabated and I'm HUGELY looking forward to tonight's big anniversary special. I have occasionally been critical of the new series; I freely admit that I got very tired of the Rory/Amy soap opera that seemed to push the Doctor into playing an almost subordinate role. And some of Russell T Davies' more outrageous plot devices made me wince. But I've also shouted with joy from the rooftops at amazing stories like Dalek, Father's Day, The Girl in the Fireplace, Midnight, The Doctor's Wife and the amazing Blink. It's a show that continues to delight and surprise me and the knowledge that Peter Capaldi is going to take it into the future fills me with childish glee.

I may not have quite become part of it but it has become a part of me. It's been one of the bigger influences on my life and I'm a better writer today thanks to people like John Nathan-Turner, Jane Judge, Lindsey Alford, Neil Gaiman, Paul Cornell and the late, great Douglas Adams who all kindly offered me good advice. I've been lucky enough to meet five of the Doctors and I count among my friends people who write for the show, work on the show, write the books and audio adventures and who love the show as much as I do. Doctor Who has enriched my life.

So happy 50th birthday Doc. Here's to 50 more.

p.s. There's a great story attached to the photo of me with the Dalek (above). It was taken at the BBC in 2008 when I was doing some radio interviews about my first book and popped in on the production office to visit Lindsey the script editor. You might notice that the plunger is missing. The security staff had borrowed it during the night to unblock a sink. Absolutely true. It was on a draining board drying off when I got there. Joyous. :)

Scouse and about

And so, another busy week passes by. It all kicked off with a Sunday lecture at Conway Hall in London, home of the Ethical Society, followed by a swift trip to Leicester and back on Tuesday to do the same 'Skeptical Bobby' talk.

Wednesday saw me hanging out with renowned photographer and long-time chum Mark Page and nosing around his new Black Swan Studios premises before jumping on a train to Liverpool on Thursday to do my talk for the third time in a week for the Merseyside Skeptics. Three lovely gigs, three fantastic audiences.

And, as I was staying over in Liverpool for a night, I did have the opportunity to explore a little the next morning. I decided, therefore, to visit the Walker Art Gallery in St Johns. It's one of the few galleries, museums and places of interest that I've not visited in the city. I wasn't disappointed.

The exhibitions are a pleasant pot-pourri of styles, art movements and eras with 17th century paintings and sculptures rubbing shoulders with Pop Art, Pre-Raphaelite and Modern. There was also a very nice exhibition of early works by David Hockney . But it was the more recent stuff that really floated my boat. Like this piece of fabulousness - Harmony in Green by Dan Hays:

Yes, it's a hamster cage. But it's a hamster cage painted in oils and it's about six feet high. And when you look closely at the painting and you see all of the different colours - particularly greens - that make up the chrome bars and the spaces between the chrome bars it becomes quite abstract and quite beautiful.

One thing I LOVED about the Walker is that you can get really close to the artworks and look at them in detail. Some, like Fritz Spiegl's whimsical Loophonium (also known as the Harpichord) are even interactive - you press buttons and it plays music. Handel's Water Closet Music maybe?

Other pieces I liked included Sam Walsh's Three Figures in a Warm Climate and The Dinner Party:

 



Anish Kapoor's Red in the Centre:

 

... and Ivor Abrahams' Head of the Stairs:



 

 

 

There are so many others I could have mentioned by the likes of Terry Frost, Richard Slee, Barbara Hepworth, Henry Moore, Jacob Epstein, Steve Howlett, Gillian Ayres, Lucien Freud, L S Lowry, Stephen Farthing, Alexis Harding and so many more but this blogpost would become unwieldy. Just go and look for yourselves!

 

I will, however, mention my favourite painting in the gallery. It's this one - The Exiled Forever Coming In To Land by Ged Quinn. 

It's an epic-sized painting in a classical style with lovely touches of surrealism.

Isn't it great?

Lastly, I must mention the gallery's collection of more classical art. It boasts work by Rubens, Poussin, Rembrandt, Turner, Stubbs, Rossetti, Millais, Degas, Monet ... but, being a Modern Art kind of a guy, I won't go into them too much. However, I will pay homage by mentioning this classic work by William Frederick Yeames: And When Did You Last See Your Father?

It's a powerful piece isn't it? We see the little boy being interrogated by Cromwell's Roundheads regarding the whereabouts of his royalist Cavalier father. It's an innocent child being asked to give up his parent, in all likelihood having no idea that this will mean certain execution for dad. Is the young girl behind his sister? Is she crying because, being older, she understands the implications of his answers? As I said, powerful. And, once again, I have to stress what a joy it is to get so close to the artwork and see the individual brush strokes and the use of colour.

A lovely morning spent among lovely things. What makes the Walker Collection so interesting is the mix of old and new, classical and modern. There are touches of humour and whimsy too, such as the Loophonium and this marvellous unlabelled bust with the pixelated face. Just pull your face back from the screen a little. Brilliant isn't it?

 

That kind of sums up Liverpool's aesthetic; a strong artistic heritage, a celebration of history while moving forward, and all coupled together with a robust sense of humour. Wherever you go, you see street art, street theatre and performance. Even as I waited for my train back home, Lime Street Station was hosting Suitcase, a series of platform-based promenade performances that tell the story of the 1938 exodus of Jewish children - the Kindertransport - from mainland Europe to the UK. The stories were simultaneously heartwarming and heartbreaking and performed beautifully.

A splendid send off from a splendid city. I will go back again soon.

The Forgotten Heroes of Comedy

Last night I was taking photos at an event put on my publishers, Unbound, in London. It was an evening with Terry Jones, member of the legendary Monty Python team and director of three of the only four films considered offensive enough to be banned in Ireland (answer at the foot of the page).

All photos: copyright Stevyn Colgan

However, Terry was there to support a fantastic book project by Robert Ross, a prolific writer about TV and film and a comedy history encyclopaedia on legs. Robert wants to put together a book about the comedians that, for whatever reason, most of us have forgotten. These aren't obscure fringe acts; many were huge in their day but, for some reason, they've faded from public memory. People like Arthur Haynes, once ITV's most popular comedian, now almost completely erased from TV history:



Or Freddie Frinton, seen here in his famous Dinner for One. This is a comedy sketch that the Guinness Book of Records reported as the most frequently repeated TV programme of all time. That's because German TV stations have shown it every Christmas since it was recorded in 1961. It's become as much a traditional part of Christmas TV fare in Germany as Morecambe and Wise and showings of It's a Wonderful Life are here. And yet, who remembers him here in his native Great Britain?



Or how about Harry Worth? Those of you of a certain age will probably remember the opening titles of his TV show - that bit with the window glass. We all had to copy it, much to many shopkeepers' annoyance. I know I did.



Or, let's come more up to date with the amazing Hovis Presley, the performance poet. Remember him? Or what about acrobatic comedy team, The Jovers?





As was discussed last night - with some excellent MCing from the comedian Dan Schreiber - there doesn't seem to be any one single reason why one comedian or comedy team achieves long-lasting fame while others don't. It's not simply about popularity; Hale and Pace were HUGE in their time, as was Jimmy Clitheroe, and Dick Emery ... but when do you ever see their shows repeated? When do you hear their names mentioned on history of comedy type programmes?

What about Mel Blanc? He created over 1000 different voices - including Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd -  but who remembers him as a comedian? He was a stalwart of the Jack Benny show:



Robert's book will feature over 100 of these forgotten brilliant people and, not only that, a host of big comedy names like Tim Brooke-Taylor, Roy Hudd, Michael Palin, Ross Noble, Chris Addison, Bernard Cribbins and many more will be championing them in the book. On stage last night we had two of the champions - Terry and Katy Brand - but there were more in the audience including brilliant stand up and Red Dwarfer Hattie Hayridge.

This is a book project that most publishers are wary of. 'Why would we commission a book about people who are forgotten?' they say. It's because they're forgotten that the book needs to be written you oafs! Thankfully, publishers like Unbound are driven by more than just celebrity culture and passing popularity fads. They put the decision over whether a book gets published back into the hands of readers.

You can see Robert's pitch (featuring Terry and the brilliant Barry Cryer) here on the Unbound website. You can also pledge money to help make it a reality and get your name in the book. Pledge a bit more and there are all kinds of treats in store.

Help make this book happen. And help these great but, sadly, forgotten comedians to get the recognition they deserve.

And, while you're at it, why not help to fund Katy Brand's first novel Brenda Monk is Funny too?

Oh, and Terry's banned films? Life of Brian, The Meaning of Life and Personal Services. The one he didn't direct was The Last Temptation of Christ.

Tales from the Far Side

Mention of Gary Larson yesterday made me seek these out - the two animated specials of Tales of the Far Side. Glorious.

Sign Post Part 2

Back here in July I shared with you some of my favourites from my rather huge collection of signed books. Here are a few more that are particularly special to me.

To kick off, some wonderful doodles by comic artist Frank Quitely. Now, if you're not into comics, his name probably won't mean much to you. But, trust me, he's one of the best. That's why he's trusted with drawing titles as iconic as Batman, The Avengers and Judge Dredd. He's also a genuinely lovely guy and when I was attempting to kickstart (in the days before Kickstarter) a new British comics imprint in the late 1990s, he was hugely supportive and even donated front cover art for our first issue. I'm so pleased he's gone on to great things. Here's a bunch of doodles he did on the inside cover of my copy of DC's Batman: The Scottish Connection (Bigger Betty was the name of the publishing company) along with another Bats-related pencil sketch.

Two other artists who were massively influential on me were Willy Rushton and Gary Larson. I was lucky enough to meet Willy before he died. His pen technique and acid wit made him one of my favourite cartoonists of all time. I've never met Gary and probably never will but I do have the next best thing (well, if you don't count owning an original!). An American police colleague knew I was a fan and asked him to sign a copy of his first volume of Far Side cartoons for me. I was ecstatic to receive it.

I have quite a lot of books signed by comedians - I'm lucky that my work means that I meet a lot of comedians -many of them, sadly no longer with us. I have been privileged to meet people like Ronnie Barker, Sir Norman Wisdom, Eric Sykes and so many more. Here are three of my prized treasures: a signed copy of Kenneth Williams' Acid Drops, a signed copy of my favourite book ever, Last Chance to See by Douglas Adams and Mark Carwardine and the inside back cover of my copy of Douglas Adams' Starship Titanic by the incredible Terry Jones. Thankfully, Terry is still very much with us and this has to be the best author glossy ever.

I'll post some more soon :)

Normal Service Will Be Resumed As Soon As Possible

My blog has been a bit quiet of late and, for that, I apologise. But I do have a good reason. Well, I think I do. The first half of my year is taken up with stuff like QI and The Museum of Curiosity but from July through to the New Year, like most freelancers, I have to get in as much paid work as I can. I also need to work on whatever book project I'm currently engaged in.

It just so happens that this year FOUR books are competing for my attention; three that I've been working on for some time and one new one, a novel. It's just a curious coincidence that they're all starting to come together at the same time. So, what I've had to do is pick one and say 'I'll finish this one first. Then move onto the next. And so on.' So, for the past month, I've pushed my proboscis to the quern and have hunkered down to finish the novel. And I'm nearly there. It's very exciting.

After that, there's a book project that I'm also pitching as a possible TV series. And another novel ... that might also be pitched as a TV series. And a rather more sensible book that is related to The Skeptical Bobby talk that I've been performing all over the UK for the past nine months (and still am - Leicester, London and Liverpool in the next seven days!).

And I have a few art jobs to complete. And I have to read loads of books as I'm a judge for the 2014 Transmission prize. And I have a couple of paintings on the go - when I get any free time!

So bear with me ... normal service will be resumed as soon as possible :)

Big Down Under

I often hear the question posed: 'How come Australia has so many of the world's most venomous creatures living there?'

It is true that Oz seems to have more than its fair share of bitey and stabby nasties: They have funnel-web and redback spiders, blue-ringed octopus, death adders, tiger snakes and taipans. The most venomous sea snake - Belcher's - lives in the seas around Australia, as do the stone fish and box jellyfish, and even the platypus has venom in its cockspur-like rear claws. But why do they need to carry so much poison?

The answer often suggested is that creatures developed venom to counter the threat posed by predatory creatures that no longer exist - the extinct so-called Australian megafauna. So let's look at that theory for a moment. Firstly, what kinds of creatures were the megafauna?

When I was at school I clearly remember learning all about mammoths, woolly rhinos, mastadons, sabre-toothed cats and other big extinct mammals like brontotherium, giant ground sloths and the staggeringly massive paraceratherium (seen here in comparison with a modern African elephant).

 

But I don't recall being told about the big animals in the southern hemisphere except, maybe, giant carnivorous birds like the moa and aepyornis.

 

I was robbed!

 

Austrailia had some amazing prehistoric giants ... and I am pretty sure that many of you will have never heard of them either. Let me point out a few stars (we'll start small and work up):

 

 

Say hello to Zaglossus hacketti. This was an echidna, an egg-laying spiny anteater, the size of a sheep. There was also a type of platypus called Obdurodon dicksoni that was twice the size of its surviving cousin.

The largest fossil marsupial found to date is the mega-wombat Diprotodon optatum that grew to at least three metres long, two metres high at the shoulder and weighed up to two tonnes.

 

 

This whopping great feller below was called Procoptodon goliah, a type of short-faced kangaroo that grew 2–3 metres (7–10 feet) tall, and weighed up to 230 kilograms. Procoptodon has become better known in recent years after the character of Raz appeared in the film Ice Age: Continental Drift.

 

 

Related to the kangaroos but quite different in form was the curious-looking Palorchestes azael, a tapir-nosed, heavily clawed creature the size of a cow. You wouldn't want to laugh at it to its face.

 

 

Pushing the slider up the dangerous scale we come to Thylacoleo carnifex, the so-called 'marsupial lion', that was the size of a modern leopard. Although totally unrelated, its skull is remarkably cat-like and boasts large slicing pre-molars. It had a retractable thumb-claw and massive forelimbs. It was almost certainly carnivorous and, bizarrely, lived in the trees.

 

 

Finally, we come to the real monsters. Top of the Australian food chain was a host of terrifying, large, flightless birds including the largest - Dromornis stirtoni, (Stirton's thunder bird) that stood three metres tall and weighed about 500 kilograms - and my personal favourite, Bullockornis planei, nicknamed the 'Demon Duck of Doom'.

 

 

This was a carnivorous, predatory bird related to modern ducks and geese, that had a skull bigger than a horse's. Wow.

 

 

The only animals that could compete with the birds were the reptiles, such as the 7 metre (23 feet) long goana lizard Varanus priscus, the 7 metre long crocodile Quinkaka,  a genus of land turtle called Meiolania measuring 2.5 metres (8 feet) in length, and a 10 metre long hunting snake called Liasis.

 

 

Amazing aren't they? However, no Australian fossil animals are anywhere near as big as the fossil animals found elsewhere. So is it really a strong argument to say that the large number of highly venomous Oz animals evolved because of megafauna?

 

One competing theory claims that it's actually due to Australia's physical isolation. Any isolated community will develop a unique flora and fauna. So maybe somewhere along the evolutionary time line, the tactical use of venom took precedence over the use of strength and speed. So while animals elsewhere in the world became bigger, stronger and/or faster, Australian animals were developing techniques which allowed them to hunt effectively while remaining small in size.

 

Another theory claims that it's due to climate. Many Australian venomous animals are cold-blooded and live in desert or grassland areas. They are at the mercy of the continent's frequent droughts; some areas often go months or years without decent rainfall. This means that prey animals become scarce so, if a carnivorous animal misses an opportunity to feed, it may be the last chance they ever have (even though many cold-blooded animals can live for long periods between meals). By using venom that quite often contains paralysing toxins, the hunter will usually only need to get one good bite or sting to fell its prey. Consequently, the energy spent on producing venom is economically well-spent.

 

We should also consider the fact that referring to these animals as 'highly venomous' is somewhat anthropocentric. While their venom can kill us or make us very ill, it often has a much less potent effect on other species that have evolved alongside them in the same ecosystem. Humans have only been on Australian soil for a short blip of geological history after all.

 

So it seems, after some research, that there's no single definite answer to the question but plenty of sensible, well-argued possible answers. It's probably a combination of several factors, including the megafauna.

 

As for me? I just wish the Demon Duck of Doom were still around.

The Transmission Prize

November begins with the rather exciting news that I've been asked to be one of the judging panel for the 2014 Transmission Prize. This is an award made by Salon London for innovative thinking and the communication of new ideas. I met my fellow judges last night and a very eminent group of people they are.
 

 

 

Joanna Ellis is Associate Director at The Literary Platform, an online magazine and consultancy that works with publishers, developers, literary organisations and academic institutions on a wide range of digital publishing projects.

Ella Berthoud is an author of The Novel Cure, a literary remedy for ailments through bibliotherapy – a system of recommending books as a form of therapy. Berthoud studied English at Cambridge University, and is an accomplished painter, and is on the faculty of The School of Life.

David Tong is a professor of theoretical physics at DAMTP in Cambridge, a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, and joint recipient of the 2008 Adams Prize. He is Adjunct Professor at the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research.

Juliet Russell is a singer, composer and on of the UK’s leading vocal coach, most recently heard on BBC1’s The Voice. She co-founded Sense of Sound and consistently works with some of the UK’s most illustrious artists and companies.

Helen Bagnall is an international award-winning writer of screen, books and digital storytelling, having worked for The National Theatre, RTE, Sony Pictures, Penguin Books and Fiver. She has twice won the KidScreen award for best TV film for teens.  

Diccon Towns trained as a sculptor before moving to London to pursue a career in graphics. He is currently Head of Internet Technologies at a leading UK software house, and responsible for Salon's Digital Strategy.

Exciting!