The Secret Service – 10. The Cure

The date on the front of the surviving script suggests production on The Cure started around November 22nd 1968. Coincidentally, it therefore would have been around this time that Century 21 was informed that The Secret Service would not be renewed for further instalments once the August-December ’68 production block was completed with episode 13. I’ve worded that very carefully because I’ve previously cast doubt on the story that The Secret Service was dramatically cut short by Lew Grade during a disastrous screening of the first episode. It’s important to remember that television production isn’t always as exciting as people think. It makes for a good story to say that the all-powerful Lew Grade pulled the rug out from under the Andersons and the Supermarionation team just when they weren’t expecting it. In reality, The Secret Service was planned as a 13-episode series produced between August and December 1968, with an option in the contracts for more episodes after that if more were required. Lew Grade’s company decided not to pick up that option for more. It’s less that the series was cancelled and more that nobody asked Century 21 to work on a second production block. Previous Supermarionation series such as Supercar and Stingray had also been produced in similar blocks of 13 or 26 episodes. One block usually blended into the next fairly seamlessly because of the enormous demand for more Supermarionation. It just sticks out more so with The Secret Service because while the previous shows had one or two blocks added to their initial contracted run, The Secret Service didn’t.

Regardless of what the paperwork said in an official capacity, I do also think it’s important to look back on these final few episodes of The Secret Service from the perspective of those who were making it. Following a run of several years where one Supermarionation series would immediately be replaced in the pipeline by another, it must have been disheartening to learn that there was now nothing puppet-related around the corner after Christmas. The fact is, the outline for UFO was being written up by the Andersons and Reg Hill while The Secret Service was in production. Shooting on UFO started at MGM just 3 months after the puppet stages on the Slough Trading Estate had closed. The speedy turnaround time indicates that none of this happened by accident. The end of Supermarionation was, at the end of the day, just a well-informed business decision to those at the top. But it must have been heartbreaking for those whose livelihoods were affected. So let’s keep those talented pioneers of Supermarionation in mind as we start to look at the last few things they made together, likely knowing that it was due to come to an end in a matter of weeks…

A chauffeur-driven car traverses a “foreign-looking” landscape, as per Pat Dunlop’s script. It looks rather hot outside, but that hasn’t stopped Kalin from putting on his biggest and fluffiest winter hat and coat. Of course, this is just to sell us on the fact that he’s from somewhere vaguely Soviet and therefore, given that it’s a 1960s spy show, not to be trusted. The chap in the car with him is Sakov, “a notorious international spy” who specialises in setbacks and annoying the British. The exposition makes it pretty clear that Sakov in particular is going to be our villain for the week and he’s going to sabotage something. All nice and clear.

In the script, Sakov would have been shown catching a train before he took to the air in this jet. Incidentally, this particular aircraft is the AV 21 passenger liner as seen in the Joe 90 episode Splashdown – literally, it’s the same footage.

More deleted material would have seen Sakov chatting with a steward. Publicity stills taken during this scene do seem to indicate that it was actually filmed but ultimately left on the cutting room floor. The steward would have wished Sakov “a successful journey” and established his alias as Herr Vokas for the benefit of…

Blake! Yes, he’s back for his final appearance of the series. The script still lists him as a member of the guest cast, but at least they’ve gotten his name right now. His job is to casually read a newspaper and stare at Sakov from afar. He’s doing splendidly so far.

Incidentally, the cabin of the aircraft is also the same set that was used in the Joe 90 episode Splashdown and many other airborne escapades from the later Supermarionation shows.

Using all his sneaky secret agent skills, Blake holds up his bag at a level which allows him to quietly snap a photo of Sakov with a hidden camera. How quaint. I’m sure Blake is planning nothing untoward with those photographs. Definitely isn’t planning a little Sakov shrine at home or anything like that.

In the Bishop’s office, all soon becomes clear. Herr Vokas the German businessman, is nothing but a super secret cover for Sakov, who is actually one of the world’s greatest freelance spies. For anyone at the back who’s chewing gum and spitting it at the teacher, the Bishop highlights for us that Vokas is just Sakov spelt backwards. Apparently that’s a touch of his sense of humour. I just think it reeks of Sakov struggling to come up with imaginative secret identities and deciding to wing it. 

At this point, we cut to the opening titles. The script suggests bringing in the opening titles a little later. I’ll call it out when we get there. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.

Oh goody, time for some location-spotting. My favourite. We’re on East Burnham Lane in East Burnham. I don’t need to tell you where East Burnham is to the east of. The car is a lovely Wolseley 6/110.

Also on East Burnham Lane, at the junction with Allerds Road, we see that Sakov’s Wolseley is being pursued by an Austin A40 Farina. I would guess that it’s the Location Unit Manager, Gren Nott, at the wheel of the Farina, but frankly we’d need a full-blown Blu-ray release of The Secret Service to be sure… hint, hint to anyone who can make that happen…

At the end of East Burnham Lane, at the junction with Thompkins Lane, we have the entrance to Greenway’s Nursing Home, run by Medical Superintendent Dr. E. H. Klam. I don’t know what the heck a Medical Superintendent is supposed to be but it sounds supremely important. I’m thinking he’s basically a doctor carrying a gun.

Needless to say, the Bishop is perplexed. The poor fellas tasked with tailing Sakov now have to explain that the dangerous master spy is checking into a nursing home, and the Bishop wants answers. He’s positively fuming. You can practically see the steam pouring out of his ears… although that could just be the nice hot cup of tea Blake’s brought in, I suppose…

And this is the point in the story that Pat Dunlop had suggested cutting to the opening titles in the script.

Naturally, the Bishop feels it’s a mystery that only Father Unwin can solve, and gives orders that he and “the cure” report to Greenway’s as soon as possible. Matthew has never before been given the codename “the cure” and frankly I don’t know why he’s been given it on this occasion. It fits the title of the episode obviously, but unless I’m missing something it seems a tad arbitrary.

Also, isn’t it funny how the Bishop ALWAYS calls up Father Unwin while he’s in the middle of reading a bible? It’s almost as if the writers had no idea what else the vicar might spend his day doing.

Apparently Unwin “will be as conspicuous as a hair on an egg,” if he goes to stay at Dr. Klam’s nursing home. I’m not entirely sure why. Unwin’s not exactly getting any younger. Maybe Greenway’s is such an unusual place that a country vicar would be considered too straight-laced to try alternative medicine. Or it could have all just been a setup to allow Unwin to make a really, really, really weak joke about mixing up a “hair on an egg” with a “hare on an egg.” Weak. Really weak.

Father Unwin whips Mrs Appleby up into a right state when she informs him of his plans to check into a health farm. Now that he’s used the term “health farm” we can drill down a little further into some contemporary context which fuelled this particular story. 

In the 1960s, the 18th-century English country house Henlow Grange in Bedfordshire was purchased by Estonian-born beauty specialist, Leida Costigan. She and her husband converted the building into a health farm for the benefit of the rich and famous, including the likes of actress Maureen Lipman and England cricketer Colin Milburn. Costigan introduced a number of unusual beauty and weight loss treatments which fascinated the press. They couldn’t get enough of glamorous women taking baths with raw vegetables, and men getting their tummies sucked with a glorified vacuum cleaner while guzzling down a glass of carrot juice. British Pathé produced some magnificent newsreels at the time marvelling at the weird and wonderful things going on at Henlow Grange, and there’s no doubt that these influenced Pat Dunlop’s script enormously.

Time for Matthew to go mini once again. Apparently Unwin doesn’t have time to explain to Matthew what’s happening… so Matthew just agrees to be miniaturised without any idea what he’ll be expected to do. Sometimes you can have too much trust in people, you know? If I was going to be turned into a little elf, I’d want to know why!

The real-life identity of the nursing home itself is a bit of a mystery. I can’t imagine it’s too far from the Burnham area but since it’s likely a private residence there isn’t any information out there about it. Perhaps it was the home of a member of the crew, in the same way that the Andersons’ illustrious house and garden had been used in The Feathered Spies previously. If you are the owner of this delightful Buckinghamshire-ish home today, congratulations, you’re obviously doing well for yourself.

Inside, Dr. Klam introduces Unwin to his fellow inmates – notably the lady in pink is named Mrs Dunlop after the episode’s writer. The voice which Gary Files has chosen for Klam is fascinating. It’s somewhere between Fozzy Bear and… well it’s actually just Fozzy Bear really. Files had a real talent for these eccentric roles. A lot of the guest characters in the later Supermarionation shows can be unremarkable, particularly as they’re often played by the same puppets week after week. The voice artists have the power to elevate them to become more memorable and The Secret Service certainly has some colourful one-off faces for us to enjoy.

Unwin and the so-called Herr Vokas square up on the matter of bird-watching. Sakov is a pretty terrible actor, doing little to cover up the fact he’s horrendously suspicious and clearly up to no good.

Klam whisks Herr Vokas away to the mysterious therapy theatre for treatment, leaving Unwin and Matthew alone with the sleeping residents to speculate what might really be going on here…

A race track? Okay, I think it’s fair to say I wasn’t expecting that. It’s all being shot on the special effects stage rather than on location because there’s obviously going to be an explosion at some point, and also because I doubt the budget for The Secret Service could stretch to using a real race car.

In the pits, two Scottish men… well, two men attempting to do Scottish accents… are discussing the performance of the car for the benefit of us watching at home. They explain to one another that the car is running on GK2, an expensive new miracle substance that can turn distilled water into high octane fuel capable of driving a military tank a thousand miles with just a few drops. Oh at last, the plot’s turned up. All of this has just suddenly been dropped on us and now the rest of the episode becomes fairly predictable. Obviously Sakov is here to put a stop to the GK2 testing and, since there’s a car involved, it’s probably going to take Father Unwin and Gabriel to stop him. Fortunately, The Cure does still have a few more charms up its sleeve to keep us entertained before the dramatic climax, but in a nutshell that’s pretty much all the intrigue wrapped up for us.

This next scene was supposed to open on a close-up shot of carrot juice being poured out of a test tube to play on the previous line of dialogue about GK2 being stored in a test tube. This was dropped, probably because keeping carrot juice in a test tube is a bit weird.

Instead, I’d say that this scene was heavily inspired by the 1967 newsreel of Colin Milburn sitting down to dinner at Henlow Grange health farm and being presented with a boiled egg in place of a steak. It’s well worth a watch for a solid slice of nostalgia.

In place of a female nurse as the script specifies, somebody decided it was a good idea to feature a nurse who sounded like a cross between Homer Simpson and Kevin from The Office. I’m sensing that this character is supposed to be a pastiche of someone very particular but my knowledge of 60s pop culture only gets me so far. Whatever the intentions though, there’s no doubt that this is another guest character made a lot more memorable by the voice cast’s acting choices.

Matthew is handed an enormous carrot… but of course, it’s not enormous, Matthew’s just really small. Oh my aching sides. Look, I know it’s meant to be a cute throwaway moment, but let’s just examine why this joke is even here. It doesn’t exactly serve the plot so really, the gag is all played at the surface level. It’s only funny because watching a giant live-action hand come into shot and give a carrot to a puppet is inherently amusing. It’s an unusual, visually interesting thing to see, that’s for sure. But it also draws attention to the fact that The Secret Service is trying and failing to blend human actors with puppets in a seamless manner. If it were a giant puppet hand coming in to give Matthew the carrot, the joke wouldn’t achieve anything. What makes this funny is the fact that we’re looking at a real person interacting with a vaugley realistic but still obviously fake fibreglass person. And Pat Dunlop must have known that when he wrote this moment into the script. Everyone on the set must have been keenly aware of the fact that this scene existed purely to poke fun at the fact the live-action/puppet mix illusion didn’t work. I truly think this is the start of The Secret Service throwing its hands up and saying, “look, we know none of this works, and we know you’re not buying it, so we might as well own our mistakes and make fun of ourselves.” 

Father Unwin goes out for a wander while instructing Matthew to eat his carrot in the case… as if he was genuinely serious about Matthew eating half his own bodyweight in raw carrot. I guess if you’re shut in a case all day, you’re going to want all the help you can get with seeing in the dark.

A tiny bit of Unwinese as Klam confronts the vicar sneaking out of the dining room in search of Herr Vokas. We’re assured he’s in the therapy theatre but Father Unwin is clearly doubtful. Can we take a moment to appreciate how much I wouldn’t want to leave my kids with someone who looked and sounded like Dr. Klam?

Back on the track, the GK2 test car is still running around quite happily. Our friend Sakov is watching with his rifle. Curiously the script says of this scene, “A MAN crouches in the bushes. We do not see his face.” So, I guess the intention was that the audience shouldn’t know for certain yet that Sakov is the one responsible for the sabotage. I can’t deny that would have added a little more tension to the whole thing, but also, who else were we supposed to think was behind it all? Dr. Klam? The nurse? Mrs Dunlop?

I have questions about this ad. Firstly, I’m fairly sure it’s meant to say “Rosanti”, as in the Prosecco, not “Rossanti.” Hence the “sweet” and “dry” labels on either side. Secondly, and this is the more questionable part, advertising alcohol at a place where people drive cars dangerously probably isn’t the best idea.

The mystery man that’s definitely Sakov opens fire on the front tyre of the car with absolutely perfect aim. It’s a rare outing for the special effects department’s rolling road which hasn’t seen an awful lot of use in The Secret Service, what with all the cars usually being filmed for real on location.

Needless to say, the driver of the GK2 car, Marden, has a bit of trouble keeping control. The next thing we know, he’s only gone and Richard-Hammond-ed the darn thing over a cliff.

As per the script, the car “explodes in a ball of fire.” And when you ask the effects team for a ball of fire, you get a ball of fire. The entire area is absolutely devastated by the explosion and there ain’t nobody walking away from a crash like that. It’s a magnificent bit of drama to head into the commercial break with.

Back at the clinic, Father Unwin is still exploring and stumbles upon Dr. Klam and Sakov in the therapy theatre. Sakov’s taste in robes leaves a lot to be desired but he cheerfully allows for Unwin to step in and enjoy the treatment.

And here it is. Making noises suspiciously similar to the BIG RAT, and looking a little bit like it too, the Klam Recliner appears about as inviting as Dr Frankenstein’s operating table. Once again, let’s refer back to Leida Costigan at Henlow Grange. As a beauty expert, Costigan had lots of weird and wonderful gadgets to show off to the press, such as a ‘traxating’ machine which could supposedly break down fat in the tissue of the receiver using powerful suction cups on the skin.

Away from weight loss though, I’d say the Klam Recliner itself bears a resemblance to the Epley Omniax Positioning System. This is usually used for diagnosing balance disorders by positioning patients in a chair within a full 360-degree range on two axes in order to assess their eye movements and therefore treat dizziness. So, a device intended for studying vertigo rather than inducing relaxation. A more common device which might actually be a closer real-life counterpart for Dr. Klam’s device is the inversion table, designed to turn someone upside dow and relieve the pressure that gravity puts on the spine, thus reducing pain. That’s all well and good, but it’s advised you only use an inversion table for a few minutes per day… not several hours as Dr. Klam forces upon his patients.

Once he’s alone, Unwin is able to chat with Matthew. Helpfully, the miniature agent provides us with a clunky piece of exposition to explain clearly that Greenway’s is next door to the experimental race track where the sabotage just happened. Sakov is the prime suspect, but the restrictive nature of the therapy theatre seems to suggest he couldn’t have possibly done it. This would all sound a bit more convincing if the episode had played out as scripted and not shown us Sakov’s face behind the rifle in the earlier scene at the race track. Instead, we’re just waiting for the thickie twins, Unwin and Matthew, to catch up with us.

To that end, Unwin has arranged for Matthew to be picked up in the case and transported down to the track. I wonder who they’ll assign that job to…

Since Blake seems to be the only other agent working for the Bishop these days, he’s got the job. The art department have wheeled out the telephone box last seen in The Deadly Whisper and Blake is given his orders from the Bishop. In Dunlop’s script, a specific note is added to remind the production team that, “BLAKE is the young eager agent from earlier episodes.” I wouldn’t blame them for being confused about the matter because he really was scripted inconsistently in A Question of Miracles and Last Train To Bufflers Halt.

Just like we saw in A Question of Miracles, the Bishop doesn’t share any extraneous information with Blake about his role in the operation. He just has to pick up the case, drop it off at the track, and naff off home. I’m sure the young lad will eventually piece the whole thing together once he’s done enough grunt work on Unwin and Matthew’s behalf, but for now he’s just a bumbling, eager youth and I like it. Similarly, I adore the Bishop maintaining his mysterious twinkle while he plays to Blake’s ignorance.

Over at the pits, Mackintosh and Burrows are rather tense. Apparently the driver managed to survive that crash. Yes. The fireball which probably ejected pieces of torn up car across several miles of Southern England wasn’t enough to kill Marden the driver. In fact, we’ll see later that he didn’t even get scratched or burned. Yes, really. He didn’t get hurt at all by an explosion which could have ripped through a skyscraper. Someone, tell Captain Scarlet that he’s out of a job because clearly this guy’s the real indestructible champion we’ve been looking for.

We learn that a minister of some sort is coming to watch the reserve car demonstrate the power (and supposed safety) of GK2. Hmmm… not an entirely dissimilar premise to the last episode, Recall To Service, which was also written by Pat Dunlop.

Meanwhile, Blake is apparently allowed to drive straight on to the experimental race track without any issue. As per A Question of Miracles, he’s driving a modified version of Sam Loover’s car from Joe 90. Alas, after Matthew gives his coy little “thank you” to Blake, we lose a lovely bit of dialogue from the script which wasn’t carried over to the finished episode. Here it is in full:

145 EXT. TRACK. DAY

Blake looks down at the case on the grass as he turns to leave.

MATTHEW: (VO) Thank you.

CUT TO:

146 CS – BLAKE

He looks down at the case.

BLAKE: The chief was right. It’s home and an early night for you Roger old boy.

So, if you weren’t already aware that Blake’s first name was Roger, you know now. Needless to date, The Secret Service pre-dates Blake’s 7 by roughly ten years.

Over in the therapy theatre, Father Unwin looks like he’s trying out something a bit kinky.

He’s not enjoying it much. Unwin confides in Matthew that he wouldn’t wish Dr. Klam’s treatment on his worst enemy… which begs the question – who is Father Unwin’s worst enemy? The obvious answer would be Satan or Pontius Pilate or one of those biblical gits. But maybe he has beef with someone a little closer to home? Perhaps he shares a friendly rivalry with a priest from the neighbouring village, who has to come over and do all of Unwin’s pastoral business while he’s galavanting off on secret missions. These are important questions…

Anyway, Matthew’s planning to toddle off and go for a ride in the race car… because it’s Matthew so hiding away quietly inside a vehicle is pretty much his north star on every mission.

Then we learn from Dr. Klam what a load of nonsense his invention really is. Apparently relieving tension is all about increasing blood flow to the head, so the recliner moves at random to facilitate that… but also it responds to any registered tension via electrical impulses… so it isn’t random at all… and since when did increased blood flow to the head relieve tension? Can anybody else hear ducks or is it just an enormous QUACK?

Despite almighty protestations from Father Unwin, Klam removes his hearing aid by force to avoid it interfering with the big dumb machine. This obviously distresses Father Unwin because he’s lost contact with Matthew… but also because removing someone’s hearing aid without their permission while they’re strapped to a table is a downright cruel thing to do to anyone.

Here’s another deleted piece of dialogue from the script after Klam leaves the therapy theatre:

162 EXT. CORRIDOR. DAY

KLAM has come out leaving the door open.

FATHER UNWIN: (VO) Dr. I must speak with you. 

The NURSE stands nearby

NURSE: The patient seems disturbed, Dr.

CUT TO:

163 CS – KLAM

KLAM: Yes, decrease his diet. One carrot per meal … a small one.

It’s a miracle anyone gets out of that nursing home alive!

For some reason, Unwin is keeping his use of gobbledygook to a minimum this week and instead switches to Latin… yeah, no idea why. But it means Sakov gets to arrive and sound vaguely evil for a moment, so at least we’re getting back to the plot.

The GK2 reserve test car is looking mighty fine. Its unusual shape isn’t a million miles away from the Marcos Mantis XP designed by British automotive manufacturer Marcos Engineering Ltd. in 1968.

While Matthew takes up his standard position in the depths of the vehicle, the regional accents keep on coming from our guest characters. The Minister is portrayed by Jeremy Wilkin doing a lovely Welsh accent. Wilkin also does a decent job with a Scottish accent for Mackintosh. Unfortunately, this rather highlights the fact that Australian actor, Keith Alexander, is struggling to maintain his own Scottish accent and will land somewhere in the Irish Sea if he doesn’t have a line long enough to get properly into character. Again, one wonders why The Secret Service didn’t use a cast better suited to regional accents if they were using them so regularly…. of course, this issue may also explain why a familiar voice artist returns to the realm of Supermarionation later on in the series…

Anyway, back to the plot (yes I know, sorry). The test car has two fuel tanks, one containing regular petroleum, and the other filled with distilled water and ten grams of GK2. The aim of the demonstration is to prove that the car runs just as well on the GK2 mixture as it does on the regular fuel. Sounds simple enough. No idea what this minister is supposed to be a minister of exactly but it’s probably Defence or Transport or something important like that rather than Work and Pensions or Chancellor of the Exchequer or any of those twerps.

Need a hand, Father Unwin? The floor puppeteer seems to think so as some fingers appear in the bottom left corner of the shot.

It’s time for Sakov to unveil his evil scheme. The plot for this episode really comes in fits and bursts. He reveals that during the earlier sabotage attempt, he managed to switch the GK2 formula for a rather more explosive solution of his own, and he’s now fleeing the country while the second test is left to end in disaster. We gloss over exactly how Sakov managed to get out of the recliner’s tight straps, but apparently Unwin won’t be able to get free for another hour so Sakov feels pretty confident of his success. I don’t think Sakov entirely figures out that Unwin is an undercover agent, but he also doesn’t question how Unwin came to be so informed about the situation. But hey, since Sakov is escaping soon I suppose none of that matters. As he wriggles through the air duct, Father Unwin is left begging for help from Dr. Klam once again.

Another scripted but removed line from Dr. Klam would have seen him turn to the nurse and say at this point: “Ignore him…. Like a spoilt child…. He wants his hearing aid. Huh!” What a sick, sick, man.

Matthew calls out to Father Unwin but gets no reply over the radio, while Unwin continues screaming helplessly from the improvised torture device he’s strapped to. The driver takes his seat and Burrows confirms for all of us that the test is about to begin with Sakov’s fake GK2 sitting in one of the fuel tanks. Well, rats.

Once again, Matthew is clinging on desperately as the car sets off at high speed. Hope he brought a sick bag.

Seriously, check out how incredibly not dead the driver from earlier is. He’s fine. Better than fine. If anything the explosion has done him some good!

At last, the nurse takes pity on Father Unwin and releases him. If Dr. Klam is giving off Fozzy Bear vibes, then the nurse is putting me in mind of Cookie Monster.

The driver, who’s first name is apparently Dave, informs us that the petrol tank is half empty. This is spelled out for us on-screen with a glance at the fuel gauges. Thanks, Dave.

Unwin has escaped to the garage, but forgot to ask anyone for the key on the way out. He manages to access the car via a smaller door and declares that there’s only one option remaining…

This would all make a bit more sense if the scene had played out as scripted:

215 INT. GARAGE. DAY

FATHER UNWIN tries to open a garage door. It is locked. The Model T is in the garage. 

KLAM (VO): Well, well another dissatisfied customer.

CUT TO:

216 TWO SHOT: KLAM & FATHER UNWIN

FATHER UNWIN: Open this garage door, if you will… I need my car.

KLAM stands by a door leading to the house.

KLAM: I’m surprised at you, Father Unwin, running away from a little hardship… I’m going back into the clinic. Come with me. 

CUT TO:

217 CS – FATHER UNWIN

FATHER UNWIN: Dr. Klam, I must have my car. Come back here.

He turns to the door.

CUT TO:

218 CS – GARAGE DAY.

There is a small door set into the larger one. The handle is tried and it opens.

CUT TO:

219 INT. GARAGE. DAY

FATHER UNWIN Looks at “Gabriel”

FATHER UNWIN: Well, there’s only one thing to do.

I guess Pat Dunlop was on a mission to make the character of Dr. Klam as irritating and unpleasant as possible, and someone else on the team such as Tony Barwick or Leo Eaton decided to cut that aspect of the story down quite a bit. It could have simply been the easiest material to trim from the episode to keep the running time down, or it might have been felt that Klam was coming across a little too… how can I put this… raving mad. 

If it were me writing this episode, I think a nice twist would have been if Klam had revealed himself as an enemy agent working alongside Sakov… or at least he might have agreed to do Sakov’s bidding for a generous fee. That could have put an interesting spin on what is otherwise quite a predictable plot.

Take a look at the billboard in the foreground of this shot at the race track. It reads “GTZ 1969.” Presumably, someone dressing the set on the special effects stage had dreamed up some sort of grand touring event which took place at the track in 1969 when the series was supposed to be set – an on-screen acknowledgement of the contemporary setting in case you needed one.

Matthew there, still very much struggling to keep that raw carrot he had for lunch down.

Now here’s a historic moment. For the first time in the series, Father Unwin has miniaturised himself and Gabriel down to one-third normal size and driven out through the small doorway. This shot is taken on the model set simply by using the smallest little model of the car available.

But THIS is the really interesting part. A radio controlled, roughly puppet-sized version of Gabriel being operated remotely by someone just out of shot. Suddenly, we’re looking at a whole new set of storytelling opportunities here. It’s a real game changer that we unfortunately only just start to see the writers exploring by the time we reach the end of the series. We never actually see Unwin miniaturise himself on-screen, but one can imagine quite a bizarre process as he points the Minimiser ray towards himself. And heck, who knew that it could shrink machines as well as people? That little feature might have gotten Unwin and Matthew out of some tight spots earlier in the series. Maybe this was the first time ever that Unwin had tried it? If so, how exciting!

In amongst all this business, another scene with our friend Dr. Klam was cut from the script with him standing at the window watching the little Model T go by and saying to the nurse: “Prepare the recliner… I thought I saw…. It’s all the tension.” Oh good, he thinks he’s lost it. Serves him right.

The radio controlled model of Gabriel is a work of art and seems to drive reasonably well. It was sometimes a struggle for the operator to steer the car from out of shot because depending on the camera placement they would be forced to drive from a position that didn’t allow them to actually see the model as it sped off down the road!

Back on the track, indestructible Dave is getting ready to switch over to the GK2 fuel tank after a couple more laps. Time to start pumping up the tension as we head towards the climax of the episode! Will Unwin reach the track in time to stop the test before disaster strikes?!

Well I’m sure he will, but first we have to have a comedy moment with a cyclist falling into a bush when he sees the little car. The man does a terrific job of making that bike crash look accidental. Anyone know which unfortunate member of the production team was called upon to do this shot? He deserves an Oscar. I like the gag, even if it is incredibly on-the-nose.

The great thing about this moment is that it wasn’t even scripted. Pat Dunlop simply instructs: “This shot to illustrate the astonishment of someone who sees it : could be another car that passes and swerves all over the road. A MAN sitting on a gate falls off it in panic at the sight of the Model T. These are suggestions only. Refer: K. TURNER.” Pat Dunlop genuinely left it to the director of the location unit, Ken Turner, to figure out what he wanted to do, and I guess he chose a cyclist crashing into a bush.

While the test car gets closer and closer to running out of petrol and switching to the not-GK2, Unwin is just racing along the country roads in his little car. The location footage definitely has a more autumnal/wintery feel about it now compared to the earlier episodes which were shooting in sunny August. Now it’s late November and I’m sure the daylight hours were very limited – just what you need when working with primitive and temperamental radio-control technology.

Then, just to really get me going, the mini Model T drives into a tunnel and comes out the other end all big again. Whaaaat?! Did Unwin stop the car and take a moment to turn himself normal-sized again despite the tremendous hurry he’s in? If he was in such a hurry, why didn’t he do that as soon as he escaped Greenway’s? Again, this might be another example of Century 21 embracing the sheer ridiculousness of The Secret Service and just trusting that the audience is in on the joke that everything we’re seeing defies reality.

If I were a sad git, I’d guess that this railway bridge is on Lent Rise Road at the junction with Hag Hill Lane in Burnham… if I were the sort of person to spend an entire afternoon exploring old railway bridges in the Slough area roughly between Burnham and Taplow stations…

Would it be cruel of me to suggest that the same model shots of the car racing around the track are just being played over and over again? I think that’s quite likely. The minister has inexplicably made himself at home in a deck chair… you know, the deck chair they keep in the pits at racing tracks… you know the one, don’t you?

Despite the supposed extra security precautions that are in place, Father Unwin just managed to drive Gabriel straight up to the pits without any issue. Captain Ochre, who’s seriously racking up a ludicrous number of guest appearances in The Secret Service now, is understandably outraged.

Oblivious to the impending doom, all Matthew can do is keep holding on while indestructible Dave drains the last of the petrol.

The minister is keeping well out of this and is probably out of shot, still sitting in his deck chair. Unwin takes matters into his own hands and grabs the walkie talkie from Mackintosh before speeding off. Yes, it’s a case of Father Unwin and Gabriel versus the world again, and I love it. This is another one of those uniquely Secret Service situations where the tension is built around the fact Unwin is determined to be a hero behind the wheel of his slow, old-fashioned car. It’s the type of story you couldn’t make nearly as exciting in any of the other Supermarionation shows because the equipment would just be too advanced. The writers and directors have learned how to scale down the action to a more modest level, but continue to escalate the tension and excitement so that we’re every bit as invested in Gabriel chasing down a race car, as we would be if it were an SPV chasing down a Mysteron agent.

Having already gone through quite the ordeal to get to this point, Unwin is not mucking about as he yells instructions down the radio at Matthew to stop the car. Indestructible Dave is having none of it and gets ready to switch over to GK2. Funnily enough Dave, if someone started yelling down my radio to stop my car immediately, I would do it… even if they kept calling me Matthew.

Stanley Unwin is really acting his guts out as he screams Matthew’s name down the radio one last time. Fortunately, our little friend has found some cables to yank on which slam on the brakes of the car and send it skidding out of control… oh good.

There’s no tremendous explosion this time around though. Indestructible Dave lives to fight another day.

Father Unwin is understandably quite pleased that Matthew survived the ordeal, and instructs Dave to walk to the pits and have that GK2 tank examined by the experts. Of course, it’s probably a bit late to catch Sakov who has fled the country by now and is enjoying a drink with his friend in the furry hat. But hey, you can’t win ‘em all.

It’s dinner time back at the Vicarage and Mrs Appleby is kicking up a stink about Matthew eating with Father Unwin at the dining room table. Seriously Mrs A, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?! Luckily, Unwin and Matthew take great pleasure in winding Mrs Appleby up and convince her that he’s “seen the light” having gone through “the valley of the shadow.” Mrs Appleby is a sucker for a bit of bible verse so allows Matthew to remain seated. 

It’s very sweet that Unwin wants to share a meal with Matthew following his narrow escape from death. Presumably, they normally try to keep their friendship under wraps from Mrs Appleby in order to maintain their cover, and that’s why Matthew is treated like a worker who has to eat separately most of the time. Maybe that’s what the writers have been trying to get at all along with the Mrs Appleby/Matthew feud. Maybe she objects to Matthew getting too chummy with the vicar when he ought to be remembering his place as a lowly gardener. It doesn’t particularly help to justify how mean she is to him, but it at least offers some sort of explanation to what is otherwise a rather glossed-over aspect of the series.

Time to end on one final bit of “ugh, aren’t vegetables yucky” humour as Mrs Appleby reveals Dr. Klam has been on the phone demanding that the vicar stick to his diet. Obviously, any fans of Colin Baker’s Doctor Who have every right to be worried by this ending. I’m more concerned that Dr. Klam will never ever leave Unwin alone… ever…

The episode ends on that delightful moment, but the script has a final sermon scene to offer us which was cut.

“My dear Brethren,” Father Unwin says to his congregation, “today I should like to take as my theme the thought – Blessed are they who hunger after righteousness.”

Love a good Sermon on the Mount pun but I agree with whoever cut out the sermon that it might have been one joke too far.

Overall, I do like The Cure. Once the episode reaches its dramatic climax, I feel that we’re still in the territory of The Secret Service at its best, particularly coming to it from the perspective of a Supermarionation nerd. But a casual viewer might start to get the feeling that this show is just irredeemably weird, what with all the carrot talk, the loony doctor, and the magical shrinking car. 

The Secret Service is inherently quirky – I think that’s obvious just from hearing the theme music and the fact Stanley Unwin is playing a priest version of himself. But previous episodes have tried to remain rooted in some sense of reality (with the exception of Errand of Mercy which was obviously a dream). The Cure just ever so slightly starts to tip the balance over towards complete absurdity. It’s a plot which brings together such diverse plot strands as experimental fuel trials, an alternative medicine clinic, a spy-for-hire who’s cunning ploy is to spell his own name backwards, a viciously overzealous doctor that puts all his patients into comas, another agent in a telephone box who blindly obeys orders to drop off a case at a race track without any additional information, a little man inside the case who eats an enormous carrot before getting thrown around in a car driven by a man who can survive sitting on top of a spectacular petrol explosion, and a nurse who sounds like he was dropped on his head too many times as a child… stop me if you think this is all getting a little out of hand.

So is this it then? Has The Secret Service finally gone too far for me? Nah. The fact is that we only have three episodes left after this one. Let the Century 21 production team have their fun. I’ll be completely honest and say I was really struggling to enjoy reviewing the earlier episodes of the series because I could just tell that the crew behind the show weren’t loving what they were making. But that’s changed now. I can start to see the joy and enthusiasm for this weird series start to shine through from behind the camera. The little flourishes like the man on the bike falling into a hedge at the sight of a tiny radio controlled car, or the effects team making every explosion as big as they possibly can, show me that the people making The Secret Service are finally enjoying themselves. So I’m enjoying it too.