The list of candidates for this one is a long one, indeed.  There was the downright painful hokeyness of “The Gunfigh—” AT THE LAST CHANCE SALOON, as well as the very conscious and deliberately vaudevillian shenanigans of “The Romans.”  And that’s even before getting into the Planet of the Silly Drapery-Wearers and Military Turtle People in “The Dominators,” neither of whom I would trust with safety scissors.  So many others are such examples of sublime absurdity.  Rest assured, the competition provided by “The Horns of Nimon” is very stiff, indeed!  There are few things quite like leaving about a thousand sets of full dental impressions in all the scenery.

But, the one that made me laugh the hardest was “The Web Planet,” and that had at least some small bit to do with the friends I watched it with making observations about the costumes and special effects, as well as some of the acting/dancing.  Rather advanced for the time, and certainly for the budget, the costumes and sets are unreservedly spectacular (not to mention, accessible on the average cosplayer’s budget), but still a bit theatrically hokey by today’s standards, yet for all that, it never stops being an absolute delight to watch.  Everyone is trying so very hard, and it’s so stagey, and yet that is exactly what early ‘60’s BBC was all about.  The sand was plainly spread over canvas, the backdrops were practically labeled, and the rocks were obviously painted styrofoam or muslin draped over chicken wire.  And yet, it was oddly magical.

From the wittery voices of the butterfly people, the Menoptera, and their odd, dancing hand gestures, to the idiosyncratic language and mannerisms of the Grub People, “The Web Planet” is one hilarious exercise in '60’s-era interpretive dance, in insect-themed costumes.  

And that’s not even counting the ant-like Zarbi.  The sight of the first of them prompted one of my friends to exclaim, “Oi!  I’ve got a fiver!  Let’s make some ants!”

But the fun really gets going with the Grub People.  They waddled about busily and importantly in impossibly restrictive subterranean grub costumes, and just watching them wobble around the set is the stuff of pure comedy.  Speaking in earnest, grunting voices, and with such lines as, “We must open mouths in it, so that it will speak more light!” it’s extremely hard to suppress the giggles.

It’s inspired and wildly imaginative, but also a genuine box of frogs.  And this is, I find, the perfect blend for a serial that’ll make you laugh until your sides hurt. It’s got to be watchable, else it’s not entertaining, and “The Web Planet” really delivers.

Magnificent fun!  Time for my rundown of my favorite bits:

• This is my spoon!
• Taking samples and testing All The Things, because no way can legends be real.  Never mind how much of a legend the Doctor is.
• Being silly with archery.
• Robin Hood and the Doctor bickering over everything.
• Pale as milk.  The Scots are strangers to vegetables (apparently onions or neeps and tatties don’t count?).  Could NOT stop giggling.
• Clara spills the bean on the Doctor, and it’s laid out, plain as day, that the Doctor and Robin Hood have so much in common with one another, it’s staggering.  Holy Parallels, Batman!

I love the discussion that legendary heroes aren’t perfect, but they do their best.  They try, and they inspire others to do good in their name.  I think the TARDIS doesn’t just take the Doctor when and where he needs to be for the sake of the people he’s saving, but lately, also for something he needs to learn.  True heroes rarely ever think they are.  They just did what they had to do, and living inside of the moment, they see all the things they feel badly about, all the things they wish they could have done better, all the people lost they wanted to save.  But, it’s the people who lived outside that moment, or lived because of that moment who make someone a hero.  Without them, all our heroes would be lost to us, in unreachable mists.