Original subtitles

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Professor, we've been detected.

We must dissipate immediately!

Impossible, my dear. The console is inoperative.

Ha-ha. Thank you.

Something had been meddling with the -- the, um...

- Uh... - Circuitry?

Yes, that.

I'm beginning to think the problem

is inside the spaceship itself.

Charlie, it's a --

- A -- A -- - Zybok!

The DARTIX has been penetrated!

It is now under our control!

You will take this ship over my dead body.

As you command.

##

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- Professor? - Tis I.

Come with me kid, we're going on an adventure.

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I gather Mr Fabricant is here

for the, um, science-fiction

conference, um, thingy-me-whatsit.

I'm sure your fiancé would love it.

Oh, no. Victoria, she's staying with her aunt in London.

You know, she's seeing the sights

and preparing for the wedding.

Oh, I do love an excuse to buy a new hat!

In any case, what is this conference for?

And why it is in Great Slaughter?

Professor Y, the fan club is here.

Didn't Zybokmania make it over to Bermuda?

Still got quite the following thanks to the repeats.

Unfortunately, it finished a few years back.

But mercifully, not the end of me.

Or my acclaimed career.

- Morning, Mr Fabricant. - Good morning.

May I say how much I used to enjoy you

in "Dixon of Dock Green"?

You may indeed.

Mr Fabricant, what have you been up to of late?

Oh, I've gone back to my roots --

the stage.

I have to say, it's quite surprising

to have a famous actor, like yourself,

staying with us at the Seaview.

Oh, my dear boy, one prefers somewhere more...

Rustic.

Here we are, Mr Fabricant.

Oh, what a treat. Thank you.

I don't suppose I could trouble you

for an autograph?

How serendipitous.

I shall be signing at the event.

Two free tickets each.

I insist.

##

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One, two. One, two.

Regulation 13C --

the President will deal with all talent management.

Lower-ranked individuals will distribute

- the tea and the coffee. - It would be nice

if Sister Peter and I could at least

say hello to the actors.

But they'll only want to speak to me, so --

Please, Roger, it's only fair considering

everything I've contributed.

Eugh, for --

Fine!

I can't believe we're going to meet The Professor and Charlie

- in the flesh! - Have some decorum?

- Is now a good time? - Yes, yes. Um, it is.

We, that is the "Professor Y" Appreciation Society,

have made it our mission to revive the show.

We've amassed a petition of 196 signatures

to make the channel see the error of their ways.

Have you signed it?

Twice.

I gather there's a special screening tomorrow?

Of "Attack of the Zyboks"!

The story unfinished due to the technicians strike in '61?

- Mm-hm. - But how?

Never you mind, Norman.

It's time.

Let the fans in!

Welcome. Welcome. Come on.

##

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Yewillabevapurized!

Tom, are you trying to give

Mrs Clam a heart attack?

It's nothing to be afraid of.

This is my pride and joy --

the actual Zybok

that zapped The Professor in the final episode.

Nonsense. Utter gobbledegook!

Thank you.

##

I must say this is all jolly good fun.

I knew you'd love it.

I've always found the transcendentally

dimensional nature of the spaceship

especially fascinating.

Sister Peter.

Oh, look Sam. Aren't those endearing?

- Mm. - Ah.

Out of my price range alas.

A gift from me to you.

To say thank you for coming.

Thank you so much.

Enjoy.

Why's Norman looking so glum?

Oh, I thought he loved this show.

Do you want to escape while you still can?

##

Norman, what's wrong?

Clem says I'm not pulling my weight.

He's given me till first thing Monday morning

to bring him a scoop.

And a story about a dead TV show isn't going to cut it.

Well -- Well, maybe one of the guests

will give you an exclusive?

Welcome to the world's first "Professor Y" Convention!

I am your President, Roger Crabtree.

But before we get going, a certain someone would like

to say a few words...

I've only got one thing to say. "Come with me, kids!

We're all going on an adventure!"

Coming later, Celeste Carmichael

and the godlike genius behind the show,

creator Douglas Wiseman!

##

I am grateful, you know.

That you listened.

I'd just love to see what happens next.

All in good time.

First, there's an award to collect tomorrow evening.

With you on my arm.

Oh, God, it's him.

- Think of the humungous fee. - True.

But I'm not even touching one of those grubby little barkers.

Hey!

Welcome to our little celebration.

This is the greatest honour of my life.

The fee, up front.

- Or no banana. - Of course, um...

- Here you go. - Yep.

And this telegram arrived for you earlier.

Oh.

Could I...

perhaps tempt you to wear one of your old costumes?

- I'm afraid, I don't have any. - You're in luck!

I've collected quite a few of your old looks.

Let's get this over with.

##

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You can depend on us, we will never give up the fight

to bring your beloved show back.

Don't bother on my account.

I'm rather busy with my

Society of Film and Television Arts nominated smash --

"The Ties that Bind."

I see, um, well,

I know a lot of people want some answers,

so, I'll open it up to the floor.

Howcurraleavusallanginlikat? Zip!

Some sort of alien language?

Uh, if I may?

"How could you leave us all hanging on like that? Zap!"

Ratings were in free fall, so, the channel pulled the plug.

Which worked out rather well for me.

- Miss Carmichael. - Yes.

I do not approve of the way

that young man is mistreating you

in "The Ties that Bind."

- Well... - It is a drama.

Well, just make it stop.

I am delighted to say that it will be.

Can I just remind everyone that this isn't

a "Ties that Bind" convention!

- Perhaps, it should be. - Yes, you.

Congratulations on the huge success

that is "The Ties that Bind."

I'd be honoured if you'd grant me an interview

for the Albion Bugle?

Someone with taste.

Come by Slaughter Hotel in the morning.

Is everything alright?

To be utterly frank, no.

You know, I've moved onto serious drama now, and frankly,

I'd rather no one was reminded of this...

puerile juvenilia.

Come!

What a thoroughly loathsome man!

##

Just put it down. There.

Douglas, what's wrong?

Nothing that need concern your pretty little head.

I must make a call.

But after dinner, perhaps, you might join me for a swim...

or a sauna?

Alas, I need my beauty sleep.

For the awards.

I'll leave you to it, yes?

##

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There we are.

Right, I think that's enough for 1 day.

E-Excuse me, Mr Fabricant,

I have been waiting patiently all day.

I am flattered.

Um, I'll make sure you're first

in the queue tomorrow.

Tomorrow?!

Oh. Oh.

Peggy! I can't believe my luck.

Clem's favourite show is "The Ties that Bind."

See! Problem solved.

You really are an inspiration, Peggy Button.

I am tickled to see how taken you are

by our time-travelling friend.

Roger and Barbara have gone AWOL.

Which means I'm the most senior society member here.

Me!

Nothing you can't handle, Sister.

This has been a joyous event.

And I'm sure tomorrow will be even better.

##

Mr Wiseman?

Mr Wiseman?

##

What on earth do you think you're doing?!

what have we got here, then?

Judging by the spatter and pooling, I surmise

a serious attack took place in this very spot.

Perhaps, Mr Wiseman left to seek medical attention?

Quite possibly.

What have we here?

Inexplicably, a spot of green.

Alien blood, perhaps?

I'm sure there's a more rational explanation.

Could this be our weapon?

##

- Huh? - Hm?

Well, that looks like blood.

Bravo, Peggy!

So, he was attacked with the implement

of his very own words.

Intriguing. A "Ties that Bind" script.

Dated 2 days ago.

Well, perhaps, Mr Wiseman

wasn't happy with what he wrote?

Or our attacker hated the show?

Well, that narrows it down to almost everyone

at the convention.

I can't help but feel that the telegram

he received there yesterday was most significant.

Sister. Sir.

Over here.

##

More blood.

So, perhaps, the body was removed to conceal evidence.

We need to find him.

Norman.

Film, now.

Of course, Inspector.

It's just -- I need this scoop to save my job.

I know whodunit, you see.

Cough it up, then.

What's it Ruth Penny says, quid pro quo?

That all depends on how valuable the information is...

##

Regulation 18B --

Lower-ranked members must ensure

that all society spaces are cleaned

before the President's arrival.

- Sorry, Mr Crabtree. - We'll be as quick as we can.

Ah, Mr Fabricant.

Ah, not feeling too tickety-boo.

It's food poisoning, I expect.

- I'll get you some coffee. - Coffee.

He smells like he's swallowed a brewery.

Mm-hm.

Uh, no, no, no, no. Too soon. Chop chop.

We are here on police business.

We believe that Douglas Wiseman was attacked last night.

- Is he alright? - He's currently missing.

Oh, my goodness.

And my Zybok's nowhere to be seen.

Well, I'd rather prioritise humans for now.

- Hm. - Roger, can we have a word?

If you insist.

We heard from Norman Whalley

that you'd threatened Mr Wiseman yesterday after the panel.

Uh, I wouldn't say that.

But you've only just started!

I can not stomach so many tragic individuals.

Tragic?!

Tragic is turning your back on the programme that made you.

And then, writing something so bland.

How dare you!

You! Of all people!

"President Crabtree"?!

I'll see to it that no one associated

with the show speaks to you ever again.

- No. No, I'm sorry. I-I -- - Your sad little reign is over!

I won't let you do this!

I'm warning you!

It was just a storm in a teacup.

Really, because, uh,

I remember you went AWOL yesterday.

A migraine, Inspector.

All the excitement, you see?

We'd like to search your house.

What on earth for?

To eliminate you from our enquiries.

Unless you have something to hide?

Fine!

But I refuse to leave this convention, so...

help yourself.

##

Sam: As much as I hate to agree with Norman,

I'd say he was our prime suspect.

Could he be responsible for our crumpled-up script?

We found nothing of concern at Roger Crabtree's house.

Apart from a wardrobe full of Celeste Carmichael's costumes.

Any luck with the typewriter, Sister?

Uh, henceforth known as Tippy Tappy.

Well, I've discovered some kind of adhesive on his keys.

But for what?

What about the "alien blood"?

Well, presently unidentified.

Though, it does contain a high salt content.

There could be something in this.

A word with Celeste, I think.

Any excuse to go back there.

Could she be our killer, sir?

Oh, well, mercifully, there's no evidence

that Mr Wiseman is deceased.

I think the writing's on the wall, Sister.

Sergeant?

##

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Hello?

Who's there?

Show yourself!

##

Who -- Who are you?

A Zybok from the planet Zandrel.

Very amusing. Let me go, this instant.

Negative. You have a task to complete.

What task?!

Mr Fabricant.

Zyboks! Venarians.

Mechanomen.

I'm so sorry, Sir, um...

I just wanted to know, where is Celeste?

Can't a man just have a damn nap?!

I heard you were looking for me?

Did you do this, Miss Carmichael?

So what if I did?

Why was Douglas Wiseman torturing your character?

I suspect it's because I said, "No."

To his advances.

You said yesterday that the mistreatment had stopped.

So, when you read this script, you must have felt angry?

Angry?!

- I was livid. - I'm an artist.

I must follow where the muse takes me.

You lied to me!

You lied to me, so, that I would go to the awards with you!

Well, I am not going.

And I am not doing this!

You really haven't grasped the dynamic here,

have you, sweetheart?

I'm the puppeteer.

You are my puppet.

Not if I quit.

Oh, really? Oh. Go on then.

No. Go on. Quit.

Thought not.

Why didn't you quit?

Douglas says he's the only one who'll hire me.

And you believed him?

I think, you're a -- a sensational actress.

That's very kind of you to say so.

But without Douglas, my career is over.

So, you see, I could never hurt him.

##

Sir, look what's just

been delivered to the station.

"Great Slaughter Police, Hear on the grapevine

that you have been looking for me.

Early this morning I received details

of an urgent family matter.

Leave me alone and afford me the privacy

I need at this difficult time.

Yours, Douglas Wiseman."

Sounds a bit fishy to me.

And it doesn't explain the blood.

Though, I believe it is his handwriting.

He's alive?

I believe so, for now.

Consider the letters on the left hand side.

This is quite literally...

a cry for help.

We'd better find him as soon as we can.

What about your Tippy Tappy, Sister?

Well, I'm still somewhat stuck on our sticky substance.

However, I have found more

"alien blood" in between his keys,

the origin of which continues to elude me.

- Any fingerprints? - Good question, Peggy.

Well, the hotel door handle was most illuminating.

So, I recalled that someone else went missing yesterday.

I took a punt

and found the very same prints

on this.

Whose?

I'm so sorry. I have no idea.

He is our star guest!

We have to sober him up before his panel.

Don't worry, I'll go find him.

Apologies, Miss Pierce, but that won't be possible.

You've found my Zybok?

Sam: I'm afraid not.

But we would like a word.

Preferably, at your home.

##

Oh, no. Not you.

I gave you a lead in good faith.

- Can't I at least come in? - No.

And if you print one word.

Actually, there's something I think Norman might want to see.

Zoiks!

- I don't believe it. - Neither do I.

It looks like we're all going on an adventure.

- But how did you? - We rescued parts of scenery

from a skip after the show ended.

It's been a labour of love for Roger and I.

Does it work? May I?

Of course. Everything's wired in.

Next stop, the planet Zandrel.

Five million years ago!

What are you waiting for?

Wait, if I'm The Professor, does that make you Charlie?

That's enough of that.

Felix, we shall start the search?

Button, if you'll show Norman out, please?

##

So, Barbara may we ask why your fingerprints were

on Douglas Wiseman's hotel door handle?

Because I went to see him.

To ask for what was mine.

Mr Wiseman.

I'm funding the whole thing myself.

But it cost a lot more than I thought.

So, um...

You didn't even finish one panel.

I was paid a fee to appear.

And appear I did.

But that's not fair.

That money is all I have left of my parents.

Spare me the sob story.

You don't understand.

- They -- - Oh, boohoo!

Boohoo to you!

Please, I just want my money back.

- No, enough, great. - No, no, I won't leave.

- I promise. - Talk to my agent.

- No, please. Please! - E-Enough.

What happened to your parents?

Um, last year in the Highlands, they, um...

They hit a deer and came off the road.

They weren't found for days.

I'm so sorry.

We used to watch "Professor Y" together.

And now, every night, I dream of The Professor

taking me away on adventures and --

and then, back in time to save them.

So, you see...

I know it's silly.

"Professor Y" saved me.

Did you spend your inheritance on this event?

Roger said we had to make the TV company see

that there's still a demand.

Perhaps, he shouldn't be so cavalier with your money.

If you're quite finished prying,

perhaps, I can have my lieutenant back?

We found Kirk in the Spitfire, but there's still much to do.

If you don't mind us remaining to search?

- If you find my Zybok... - You'll be the first to know.

Okay.

I'm so thirsty.

Just let me out of here, please.

I'll do anything.

You have been brought here for a purpose.

What purpose?!

OK, so, we searched the house from top to bottom.

And it's another dead end.

Oh, fishbums. Well, where on earth could he be?

Anywhere in time or space it seems.

Well, I have found a hair inside Tippy Tappy

without scales or medulla, which means --

- The hair is synthetic. - Ooh, very good.

Which along with the adhesive...

Oh, no. Not again.

We have to go where the evidence takes us.

Come on, Sergeant.

The moment we've all been waiting for.

Our hero and a role model to us all.

Professor Y himself --

Kirk Fabricant!

Hey.

Oh!

Come on, then!

What inane facts

do you all want to know?

Well, may we first start by asking what you've been up to

- since the show ended? - Far too many things to mention.

Yes, you.

Can I finally have my autograph?

Oh, it's you.

Your breakfast has played havoc with my guts!

How dare you!

My food is highly acclaimed!

You see.

Ugh!

Can we have a sensible question, please?

Is it true atyowerrablottoarretme?

Translation?

Oh, is it true that you were

inebriated during some of the recordings?

Absolutely not! I am teetotal. Next.

Do you wear a toupee, Mr Fabricant?

- A what? - A hairpiece.

A -- A wig if you will.

A wig? Huh?

A wig.

Wig!

Blasphemy!

I came here for you.

For the fans.

When, really, your stupid little show has been the end of me.

You all stole my wonderful, wonderful...

Career.

Sergeant Livingstone has done some background checks.

Yes, um, it appears that you are indeed working,

but as --

as a lollipop man in Skegness.

Yes, I am a humongous failure.

If that's what you want to hear?

We just want to know what you were doing

in Mr Wiseman's hotel room.

If you must know...

I went there to ask --

nay --

beg...

for a part in "The Ties that Bind."

So. What happened?

That little toad laughed at me

as he sat there composing his letter.

- A letter? - And everything

about my downfall

became crystal clear.

I-I know I'd be perfect for it.

The -- The audience never stopped loving me.

Why on earth would I let you ruin another show of mine?

Ruin?

Your lack of self awareness really is astounding.

I -- You -- You've lost me.

You're a dipso, a boozer,

a wino, a drunk, an old soak.

Capiche?

I can assure you those days are behind me.

You want to know the real reason you never worked again?

I made it common knowledge in the industry.

Hmm? You're a laughing stock.

What?

Ow!

Now, get out of my suite!

You bald waste of space.

##

Is that when you bashed him over the head

- with his typewriter? - I should have!

Thanks to him,

I can't even get a job as one of the uglies in panto.

I doubt that.

You were an icon.

That is true.

But what with the stress of it all...

I sniffed the barmaid's apron.

And now, I am...

a pathetic old has been.

Perhaps, if you stop drinking,

you could revive your career.

It's hopeless. Look at me.

Do you really want to let your fans

see their hero like this?

They look up to you.

I looked up to you.

You did?

What would The Professor do?

Are you having fun, Mrs Clam?

The answer is a decided no.

But I was promised an autograph,

and I refuse to leave without it!

Lights.

Sorry.

It's all over Peggy, in T-minus 17 hours,

I'm going to be toast.

I'm sure you'll come up with something.

Now, it's time to enjoy my greatest achievement yet.

Never before seen footage of "Attack of the Zyboks"!

- Oh for heaven's sake. - Sister Peter.

Tom, if you will?

##

##

We'll never outrun the Zyboks!

Unless -- Unless , I can

recharge the transducer, deep in the heart of the DARTIX.

But how will we even get there, Professor?

Let me think, let me think.

I'm not going down there.

Poppycock.

Come with me, kid, we're going on an adventure.

Do you even know where we're going, Professor?!

Well, truthfully, my dear, I haven't a fig !

But isn't this fun?

Zybok: We have The Professor in our sights!

He can not escape.

The mighty Zyboks will be victorious!

So, Douglas was typing a letter?

That's what Kirk said, before his sticky wig

fell on Tippy Tappy.

Then, Tippy's carbon ribbon

could be exceedingly illuminating.

Oh, as you might say, Sister, "Fishbums!"

I'm missing the screening.

- I'm sure you'll survive. - Sam:

- "Kill Professor Y"? - Huh?

Did Douglas want to kill Kirk?

Thankfully not.

It's to his literary agent.

The show is being revived.

The show's coming back?!

Apparently so.

But Douglas intended to block it.

Well, something our attacker clearly

wouldn't allow to happen.

Sister.

Have you made any progress with this green substance?

Well, thin layer chromatography has revealed

the presence of amino acids, but that's about it, I'm afraid.

If only we had the help of a time-travelling professor.

If only we had the help

of a time-travelling professor.

- Oh, my giddy aunt. - Welcome aboard, Sister.

An unexpected pleasure.

How may we?

Uh, I need your help.

Um, perhaps, your equipment?

No need for that.

Logic is all that is required, hmm?

What would one of my fans do

if they thought my show had been cancelled...

again?

Oh. Of course.

An emotive reaction.

- Oh, no, not again. - Eliminate the forensic nun!

You know, I've always wondered what's inside one of those.

Eliminate!

- Bingo. - Sister?

Eliminate the forensic nun!

- Hey! Sister? - I know what it is.

The missing Zybok is most significant.

We must hurry!

Where?

It's just a hunch.

It might be a really silly one.

But please indulge me.

##

- Norman, I really don't think -- - This is it.

This is my scoop.

I'm a nincompoop.

Who can't even get a nincomscoop.

I deserve to lose this job.

No. No, that's not true.

Even if you do, what's to stop you moving on to better things?

In London, like Ruth?

But how can I ever leave when...

Do you want to go dinner with me?

Oh, uh...

If you get your scoop.

To celebrate.

Uh, we should go. You're missing the screening.

Wherever you go...

I shall follow.

Just one more thing.

##

##

Is this really happening?

Zybok: Then, you need to go faster.

Think of my award. Please.

When your mission is complete you will be released!

- Norman: It's over! - Zybok: Freeze!

You helped build the console,

and you know about the key, don't you, Roger?

Thank God! Where have you been?!

El-im-in-ate!

Get away from her! You!

- You metal monstrosity! - Eliminate!

- Button, are you alright? - I'll be fine, Sir.

It's Roger, he's deranged!

That may be so, Norman.

But this is Barbara's house and her Zybok.

Presumably, you don't want the creator of your beloved show

to know what you've done?

Eliminate!

##

I didn't mean to hurt anyone.

You?!

I presume the telegram that you received

informed you that the show was coming back?

I couldn't believe it.

- I had to pull the plug. - Why?

"Professor Y" is an embarrassment!

It needs to be forgotten.

So...

So, I -- I wrote a letter.

Which we assume you read, Barbara.

I only glimpsed it at first.

So, I managed to get back in.

I had to see what it said.

Sister Boniface: And it elicited numerous tears...

containing traces of your green mascara.

Why kidnap Douglas?

Sister Boniface: I imagine not only did Barbara

want to save the show she loved...

but she wanted its original creator to breathe

life back into it.

He's the only one who can.

I will never write this pathetic little show ever again!

No! You're ruining the only thing that keeps me going!

- Then, you need to grow up! - Barbara's parents.

They both passed away.

Tragically.

Your pathetic little show saved her.

I just miss them so much.

Right. Well. I'm -- I am terribly sorry to hear that.

But could someone please help get me free?

If I leave now, I may just make it in time for my award.

No?

You are one of the finest actresses

I have ever worked with.

Douglas is lucky to have you.

Always has been.

Thank you, Professor.

And now, I need you to be brave for me.

- And admit something. - I'm -- I'm not...

I...

Am...

Something, beginning with "A."

I've never said that before.

The important first step.

Now, you get better, for me.

Yes?

Douglas is alive!

Celeste. No.

Celeste.

I can only apologise.

I'll write you a new script.

Hmm?

The car's waiting outside.

I'm not coming.

And when our contract expires,

we're done.

But...

- I'm the only one who -- - There you go, again.

Trying to manipulate me, so that I won't leave you.

Dear boy, why don't you forget the awards and stay?

"Professor Y" is not something to be ashamed of.

I mean, look at the creativity and community here.

You created something magical.

And in my experience, that does not happen very often.

##

I get it now, alright?

A loopy fan locked me up for it.

I can see how much it means to all of you

little people.

If you don't want a have real life,

then, who am I to stop you?

So...

you get your wish,

albeit without my considerable talent.

"Professor Y" will live on to have more adventures.

I can still make this.

Enjoy, enjoy.

Start her up! My award awaits!

Change of plan, old chap. You're now my plus one.

- Thank you, Mr Fabricant. - You're welcome.

I do wonder if Mr Wiseman will ever get his life's ambition.

Oh, no, he won't.

My old pal Bertie is on the panel.

What's that German word again?

- Schadenfreude? - Well, he's not all bad.

He did drop the charges against Barbara.

Oh, well, that is a relief.

And, uh, will you both be returning

to space and time imminently?

Fancy some more adventures?

There's nothing I'd like more.

Mr Fabricant!

I cannot thank you enough for your patience.

But most of all, your hospitality.

Vera.

Ooh, I...

I suppose this will suffice.

But really what you said about my food.

I was delirious.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Well, in that case,

I'll expect you all at the Seaview

in an hour for tripe and onions.

Well, I did it. saved the show!

You all owe me a great debt of gratitude.

Yes. This will be the first of many conventions.

For us, perhaps.

But we'd rather deal with someone more

in keeping with the values of our show.

Who better than a nun?

Sister Peter, I hereby promote you to President

of the "Professor Y" Appreciation Society.

I'm so honoured!

What?! No one can dethrone me!

I will always be the President.

Turns out I got my scoop after all.

Kirk's agreed to do an interview about the show coming back.

Oh, well done.

See, I knew you could do it.

So, uh, about that dinner you promised me.

No time like the present?

Oh, yeah.

I-I suppose we should...

get it out of the way.

But the more the merrier, eh?

Mrs Clam will have our guts for garters.

And, um, I-I mustn't be late for Vespers.

I suppose, it's just us then.

Do you think now that I'm staying,

we could make this a regular occurrence?

I don't think so, Norman. No.

Ah. I can take it slow.

Just -- Just like the slime that lives inside the Zybok.

I'll grow on you, Peggy.

You'll see...

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