BY: ROBERT HOLMES
Part One
Original Air Date: 30 October 1976
Running time: 21:13
DOCTOR: The Panopticon.
DOCTOR: No! No!
TANNOY: Sector seven, sector seven, alert. Unauthorised capsule entry imminent. Repeat, unauthorised capsule entry imminent. Stand to on sector seven.
DOCTOR: Right outside the Capitol itself. I'm in trouble now.
DOCTOR: The Chancery guards. Pft. What a welcome home.
HILDRED: It looks
SPANDRELL: Yes?
HILDRED: If I didn't know better, Castellan, I'd swear it was a Type Forty.
SPANDRELL: It is.
HILDRED: But that's impossible.
HILDRED (on screen): There are no Type Forties in service. They're out of commission, obsolete.
DOCTOR: Obsolete? Twaddle. Take no notice, my dear old thing.
SPANDRELL (on screen): Nevertheless, Commander, this is a TARDIS. It's in an unauthorised zone. I want the occupants arrested.
SPANDRELL: The barrier on this model is a double curtain trimonic, so you will need a cypher indent key to get in.
HILDRED: Very good, Castellan. I'll send for one.
SPANDRELL: After you have arrested the personnel, impound the machine.
HILDRED: Of course, Castellan. Will you want me to question the
SPANDRELL: Eventually, yes, but not on a Presidential Resignation Day, Hildred.
DOCTOR: Presidential Resignation Day!
SPANDRELL: Data retrieval. Request information on all Type Forty TT capsules currently operational.
COMPUTER: Negative information. Type Forty TT capsules are deregistered and non-operational.
SPANDRELL: Report number of de-registrations.
COMPUTER: Three hundred and four.
SPANDRELL: Report number of registrations.
COMPUTER: Three hundred and five.
SPANDRELL: Report reason for numerical imbalance.
COMPUTER: One capsule removed from register. Reference, Malfeasance Tribunal order dated three zero nine nine zero six.
ENGIN: Can I be of any further help, Castellan Spandrell?
SPANDRELL: One minute, Engin.
HILDRED (on screen): Commander Hildred, Sector seven.
SPANDRELL: Malfeasance, Hildred.
HILDRED (on screen): Malfeasance?
SPANDRELL (on screen): The occupant of your Type Forty is a convicted criminal. Approach with caution.
HILDRED: Very good, Castellan. Set your stasers.
DOCTOR: I must get past them and warn the President.
DOCTOR: Cash and carry, Constantinople.
HILDRED: Right, follow me.
HILDRED: Don't move. I said, don't move.
HILDRED: There he goes! Quick!
DOCTOR: Hey, just a minute! Excuse me!
HILDRED: Coyned. He's got into the tower. You'll have to check every floor.
HILDRED: All guards report to main tower, sector seven. Dangerous intruder at large.
ENGIN: The Tribunal chose, in view of the extenuating circumstances, to impose a lenient sentence.
SPANDRELL: What?
ENGIN: (louder) The Tribunal chose
SPANDRELL: What sentence?
ENGIN: Oh, I beg your pardon. Banishment to Earth.
SPANDRELL: Earth?
ENGIN: Sol Three, in Mutter's Spiral. Rather an interesting little planet, I understand. Several of our
SPANDRELL: Is there anything further of relevance I should know, Coordinator Engin?
ENGIN: I see there is an addendum. Ah, yes. The sentence was subsequently remitted at the intercession of the CIA.
SPANDRELL: Celestial Intervention Agency. They get their fingers into everything. Is he mixed up with them?
ENGIN: There's nothing further on the file.
SPANDRELL: Oh yes, they'd see to it that there wouldn't be. Can you get me his extract biog?
ENGIN: Yes, certainly. Won't take a moment.
HILDRED: Castellan, I have to report the intruder in Sector seven
SPANDRELL: Well?
HILDRED: Evaded us. And he sh*t one of my guards.
SPANDRELL: I see. Such efficiency.
HILDRED: But we have him trapped in the communications tower, Castellan.
SPANDRELL: Well done, Hildred. An antiquated capsule, for which you get adequate early warning, tranducts on the very perimeter of the Capitol. You are informed that the occupant is a known criminal, whereupon you allow him to escape and conceal himself in a building a mere fifty three stories high. A clever stratagem, Hildred. You're trying to confuse him, I take it?
HILDRED: I apologise, Castellan. He won't evade capture a second time.
SPANDRELL: In the light of your impressive record so far, I would make no rash commitments.
HILDRED: I found this in the capsule.
SPANDRELL: To the Castellan of the Chancery Guard. I've good reason to think the life of His Supremacy the President is in grave danger. Do not ignore this warning. The Doctor. And he signed it over the Prydonian Seal.
ENGIN: Apparently he is or was at one time a member of that noble Chapter.
SPANDRELL: How can you tell?
ENGIN: Well, the biog data extracts of Time Lords are colour coded according to Chapter.
SPANDRELL: I didn't know that.
ENGIN: No? Well, your duties usually involve you with more plebian classes, don't they, Castellan.
SPANDRELL: A Prydonian renegade, eh? I have to refer this to Chancellor Goth.
FIGURE: Predictable as ever, Doctor.
SPANDRELL: He's a Prydonian renegade, sir, and as you know, when a Prydonian forswears his birthright, there is nothing else he fears to lose.
GOTH: So you think there is a real danger, Castellan?
SPANDRELL: He has already k*lled one of the guards. I think he's ruthless and determined. A typical CIA agent.
GOTH: But if he is a member of the Celestial Intervention Agency, why should he wish to harm the President?
SPANDRELL: He could have been suborned. If he's being false to his Prydonian vows, his fidelity is already suspect.
GOTH: But this note? Why warn us in advance?
SPANDRELL: Perhaps to get us nervous, or just looking the wrong way. Prydonians are notoriously
GOTH: Devious? Not true, Castellan. We simply see a little further ahead than most. Anyway, what is it you want?
SPANDRELL: Permission to withdraw fifty guards from the Panopticon to search the communications tower.
GOTH: A great loss of pomp and circumstance.
SPANDRELL: I'll feel much happier once he is in custody.
GOTH: Very well, Spandrell. I should like to see this TARDIS. Extraordinary to think an old Type Forty is still operational.
SPANDRELL: It's in Sector seven, cloisters.
GOTH: Then we'll have to hurry. I have an audience with the Cardinals in a few minutes.
DOCTOR: Now, where's the local news programme? Ah.
RUNCIBLE (on screen): Around me in these high galleries of the Panopticon
RUNCIBLE (OOV.): Already the Time Lords are gathering, donning seldom worn robes with their colourful collar insignia. The scarlet and orange of the Prydonians, the green of the Arcalians, the heliotrope of the Patrexes, and so on.
RUNCIBLE (on screen): And the one question that is on all their lips, the question of the day, as His Supremacy leaves public life, is who will he name as his successor?
DOCTOR: Oh no, it's Runcible. Runcible the Fatuous.
RUNCIBLE (on screen): In a moment, I hope to talk to Cardinal Borusa, the leader of the Prydonian Chapter, the Chapter that has produced more Time Lord Presidents than all other Chapters together, and perhaps get an answer to this question.
RUNCIBLE: Cardinal Borusa, if you can spare a moment, sir.
BORUSA: Yes?
RUNCIBLE: Public Register Video. If I could ask you a few questions?
BORUSA: Good gracious. Runcible, is it not?
RUNCIBLE: Yes, sir.
BORUSA: One of my old pupils at Prydon Academy.
RUNCIBLE: May I congratulate you, sir, on your elevation to Cardinal?
BORUSA: Thank you, Runcible. Good day.
RUNCIBLE: No, no, wait, sir. Please, if I could ask you a few questions.
BORUSA: Runcible, you had ample opportunity to ask me questions during your mis-spent years at the Academy. You failed to avail yourself of the opportunity then and it is too late now. Good day.
RUNCIBLE (on screen): I'm afraid Cardinal Borusa cannot, at this present moment in the time band, commit himself. However, it is certainly no secret that a very senior member of the Prydonian Chapter, and the present number two in the Time Lord Council, Chancellor Goth, is the widely fancied candidate.
DOCTOR: Oh, get off.
GOTH (on screen): There's no way this Doctor can enter the Capitol from the tower, is there?
SPANDRELL: Not unless he's got the help of an accomplice.
GOTH: From within?
SPANDRELL: Perhaps he's gone to the tower to shake of his pursuers while somebody inside lifts the barrier.
GOTH: What an inventive suspicious mind you have, Spandrell. So this in an old Type Forty.
SPANDRELL: Its shape was infinitely variable.
GOTH: Remarkably good condition. What are you going to do with it?
SPANDRELL: I hadn't thought. I was more interested in its operator.
GOTH: Well, I shouldn't leave it here in case he tries to sneak back. Transduct it back into the Capitol.
SPANDRELL: Very well, sir.
GOTH: Oh, and, er, keep me informed about your progress on the conspiracy.
SPANDRELL: Of course. Transduct this to the museum.
DOCTOR: What a way to travel. But which way the Panopticon?
FIGURE: So, he is within the Capitol.
MAN: All his actions are exactly as you predicted, Master.
FIGURE: I know him.
MAN: He is resourceful. He will gain the Panopticon without further help.
FIGURE: Of course, he knows he is entering a trap.
FIGURE: But how can he resist such a bait?
MAN: The hope of preventing an assassination.
FIGURE: Quixotic fool. He will die quickly. Make certain he dies very quickly.
SPANDRELL: Well?
HILDRED: We checked the tower, Castellan. Nothing.
SPANDRELL: Nothing?
HILDRED: Fifty two floors. Nothing. He never left the lift. We think he doubled back.
SPANDRELL: To the capsule?
HILDRED: Out here. There's nowhere else for him.
SPANDRELL: Come with me, and bring the tracker.
GUARD: Castellan.
SPANDRELL: Now he could get into the Panopticon.
HILDRED: But everyone has to show a pass. The door guards will never let any
SPANDRELL: Do you think they will stop Gold Usher? Would you? Get over there and try to find him.
HILDRED: Very good, Castellan.
SPANDRELL: And Hildred, try to be discreet.
TIME LORD 1: You know, I remember the inaugural of Pandek the Third.
TIME LORD 2: Really?
TIME LORD 1: Yeah. Nine hundred years, he lasted. Now there was a President with some staying power, what?
TIME LORD 2: What?
TIME LORD 1: Staying power. Where the dickens is my gown?
TIME LORD 2: Nine hundred years, eh?
TIME LORD 1: I could have sworn it was here a second ago.
DOCTOR: Here you are, sir.
TIME LORD 1: Ah, thank you. Most kind. Yes, very different from the fellows nowadays, what? They're chopping and changing every couple of centuries.
TIME LORD 2: You're not gold, are you?
TIME LORD 1: Not what? This isn't my gown! That fellow's given me the wrong gown.
TIME LORD 2: What fellow?
SPANDRELL: There may be something in his history. Some clue. If only I could convince the Chancellor the thr*at is serious.
ENGIN: It would have to be very serious before they'd delay the ceremony. The President must be on his way to the Panopticon by now. Can I have the data, Castellan?
SPANDRELL: This has been in the reader recently.
ENGIN: Surely not.
SPANDRELL: No mica dust.
ENGIN: What? There are millions of extracts in the archives. It's hardly feasible
SPANDRELL: I live with the dirt of the past, Coordinator Engin, and I can tell you that the old crimes besmirch the fingers.
ENGIN: Well, if it has been withdrawn, there'll certainly be a record.
SPANDRELL: I shall want to know who had it.
ENGIN: Yes.
SPANDRELL: But let's see the extract first.
ENGIN: A pleasure, Castellan.
FIGURE: Heh, heh, heh. The innocent to the slaughter.
GOLD USHER: You have everything, sir?
PRESIDENT: I think so.
GOLD USHER: The list?
PRESIDENT: What? Oh, the resignation honours list. Yes, here it is. Some names here that will surprise them.
DOCTOR: Runcible, my dear chap. How nice to see you.
RUNCIBLE: What? Oh, I don't believe we've, er. Oh, I say. Weren't you expelled or something? Some scandal?
DOCTOR: Oh, it's all been forgotten about now, old boy.
RUNCIBLE: Oh, really? Well, where've you been all these years?
DOCTOR: Oh, here and there, you know. Round and about.
RUNCIBLE: Is there something the matter?
DOCTOR: Oh no, just a twinge in the knee.
RUNCIBLE: Well, if you will lead such a rackety life. Have you had a facelift?
DOCTOR: Several, so far.
RUNCIBLE: Yes, well, nice to have met you. I must get on. I'm doing the PR videocast.
DOCTOR: Yes, and splendidly too, if I may say so.
RUNCIBLE: Oh, do you think so?
DOCTOR: Oh, it's a gift. Somehow you have a wonderful way of making the whole thing come alive.
RUNCIBLE: Oh, that's very nice of you.
RUNCIBLE: Oh, that'll be the President now. He's just arrived at the Panopticon.
RUNCIBLE: Are you sure you're all right?
DOCTOR: What? Yes.
RUNCIBLE: Come on, you stupid yoik.
DOCTOR: What?
RUNCIBLE: I should be getting a signal from my camera technician up there.
DOCTOR: No!
DOCTOR: Let me go! Let me go!
RUNCIBLE: (to camera) Just a little disturbance here in the Panopticon, as the President starts to ascend. Already the members of the High Council, led by Chancellor Goth, are moving forward to greet His Supremacy.
`
The Doctor
Tom Baker
The Master
Peter Pratt
Cardinal Borusa
Angus MacKay
Castellan Spandrell
George Pravda
Chancellor Goth
Bernard Horsfall
Commander Hilred
Derek Seaton
Commentator Runcible
Hugh Walters
Co-ordinator Engin
Erik Chitty
Gold Usher
Maurice Quick
Solis
Peter Mayock
The President
Llewellyn Rees
Time Lord 1
John Dawson
Time Lord 2
Michael Bilton
Voice
Helen Blatch
Assistant Floor Manager
Linda Graeme
Costumes
James Acheson
Joan Ellacott
Designer
Roger Murray-Leach
Fight Arranger
Terry Walsh
Film Cameraman
Fred Hamilton
Film Editor
Ian McKendrick
Incidental Music
Dudley Simpson
Make-Up
Jean Williams
Producer
Philip Hinchcliffe
Production Assistant
Nicholas John
Production Unit Manager
Chris D'Oyly-John
Script Editor
Robert Holmes
Special Sounds
d*ck Mills
Studio Lighting
Brian Clemett
Studio Sound
Clive Gifford
Theme Arrangement
Delia Derbyshire
Title Music
Ron Grainer
Visual Effects
Len Hutton
Peter Day
Tom Baker
The Master
Peter Pratt
Cardinal Borusa
Angus MacKay
Castellan Spandrell
George Pravda
Chancellor Goth
Bernard Horsfall
Commander Hilred
Derek Seaton
Commentator Runcible
Hugh Walters
Co-ordinator Engin
Erik Chitty
Gold Usher
Maurice Quick
Solis
Peter Mayock
The President
Llewellyn Rees
Time Lord 1
John Dawson
Time Lord 2
Michael Bilton
Voice
Helen Blatch
Assistant Floor Manager
Linda Graeme
Costumes
James Acheson
Joan Ellacott
Designer
Roger Murray-Leach
Fight Arranger
Terry Walsh
Film Cameraman
Fred Hamilton
Film Editor
Ian McKendrick
Incidental Music
Dudley Simpson
Make-Up
Jean Williams
Producer
Philip Hinchcliffe
Production Assistant
Nicholas John
Production Unit Manager
Chris D'Oyly-John
Script Editor
Robert Holmes
Special Sounds
d*ck Mills
Studio Lighting
Brian Clemett
Studio Sound
Clive Gifford
Theme Arrangement
Delia Derbyshire
Title Music
Ron Grainer
Visual Effects
Len Hutton
Peter Day