Assuming Aziraphale Has Zero Idea That Second Coming Involves Torturing Demons…

“I need you” isn’t “I love you,” and it isn’t “Yes, let’s go off together,” but the thing is, it might as well be. And it might be one of the more honest things Aziraphale has ever said.

He has never said it aloud before now. Not like this, with eons worth of raucous indignant feeling crawling up into his throat. He had not wanted, not expected to say it like this, mocked by his own stricken reflection in Crowley's sunglasses, each lens a dark mirror.

"I—I need you," says Aziraphale, and his voice breaks down the middle. It might as well, for he's confessed too late. Crowley is shut to him, recedes from him like a wave broken on the terrible bedrock of Aziraphale's futile stubbornness.

And still, even like this, Aziraphale needs him.

His presence, his constancy. His unfailing, tenacious friendship.

Crowley’s kindness, his softness, his solicitousness under the prickly façade Aziraphale sees is just that—a layer that can be so easily peeled away to reveal the deep core of caring beneath, too entrenched to be deserved by any world they could live in. He needs Crowley’s unguarded gaze, needs the way Crowley’s forever looking at him across distances when he thinks Aziraphale doesn’t notice: chin tilted up, eyes soft as marigold petals.

A phone call away whenever anything or nothing at all happens is Crowley’s dear voice; his lovely dry humor; his sauntering, slithering, improbable walk despite which he somehow flawlessly falls into step alongside Aziraphale anywhere and all the time. His hip knocking against Aziraphale’s, casual as anything and yet so much more than. Flashes of black and wisps of red flitting in and out of Aziraphale’s periphery for thousands of years.

He needs their circuitous arguments, their winding ethical debates—after most of which they somehow end up on the same side, that is, their own side, terrifying and exhilarating in its Promethean familiarity—and Crowley’s chaotically-sure moral compass. The times Crowley is braver than Aziraphale could ever be; and the times Crowley reminds him of how brave he actually always has been.

And Aziraphale needs even the great big awful rows, the ones that end in their standing on opposite verges of another chasm of their own making. Because the culmination of such a fight is always the meeting again in the middle. It’s the low sweeping bow of their apology, a ritual not half earnest for all its facetiousness, which says so much without either of them having to utter a word. Crowley holds a whole conversation in the dip of his fiery head and the exaggerated flutter of his elegant wrists, when it’s his turn; and, when it’s Aziraphale’s, the hashing-out of differences is there in the way he executes each familiar movement with the practiced ease of a faithful courtier, though it’s been ages since he stood in any king’s court.

He needs the knowledge that they always forgive each other. Because, well, they do. They must. They will. What’s a spat or a quarrel or even a proper falling-out to two beings like them, to him and Crowley?

Aziraphale needs Crowley’s happiness. His truest happiness. If that isn't the crux of it all, what is?

He remembers the ancient light of Crowley's joy, how it had shone once about both of them like an aura through the blackness of undeveloped space. It never left, all that bright, barely reined-in giddiness, all that frenetic energy, but he's transmuted it, magpie-like, into something else. Aziraphale can sense it whenever Crowley brings him a new vintage record to add to his collection. Whenever Crowley pulls out Aziraphale’s chair for him outside Marguerite's, or orders just what he likes for him at the Ritz. Whenever he drops into the shop unannounced with a little box tucked under his arm, full of gorgeous petits fours from the new bakery Aziraphale hasn’t yet tried, and says, gleeful, Ohhh, you wouldn’t believe all the wiling I had to do to get my hands on these, angel. You’ll have to thwart me for this, I know. But first—no, no, no, first! The only sensible thing for you to do would be to try them… you’ll like the pear macaron...

And of course Crowley is right. He's right about most things, isn't he, after all? Because Crowley knows him, and he needs to be known, but it simply wouldn't do for anyone else to be the one doing the knowing.

Aziraphale likes the pear macaron, just as Crowley knew he would.

He likes all the things that come along with Crowley, really. The fast car, oh yes, sleek and stylishly classic and so very Crowley through and through, though Aziraphale has committed staunchly to grousing about it. The way no companionable silence held in Crowley's company is ever truly silent. The jaunts to the park on seasonable days: Crowley's touch lingering where he pours frozen peas for the ducks into Aziraphale's cupped palm; the fondness in Crowley's tone poorly disguised as he points out his favorite mated pair trawling placidly across the pond. The drinking together long past the small hours of the morning in the back room of the bookshop, where the walls are the same warm ochre shade as Crowley’s eyes.

It isn't ever so much about the drinking as it is about the together bit. How the space between them dwindles with the syrupy passage of time. How Crowley softens and melts into the settee. How he becomes Aziraphale's to watch, for once. How he grows so wondrously relaxed and gloriously at home there in Aziraphale's space that Aziraphale begins to wonder if this will at last be the night Crowley does not, eventually, get up and retreat back to his Bentley to take himself away again...

There is always that fragile little moment, right after sobering up, when everything in their universe seems at the same time to be entirely too set in stone and entirely too much as though it all hangs by one delicate, dissembling thread. Always the split second in which Aziraphale looks into Crowley's guileless face and remembers he could unravel everything with a single tug.

Yes, one sharp tug on the lapels of Crowley's jacket would do it, he knows. How easily it could be done... Tumble the two of them into one another, just then, and they would never be parted again. And his deft-tongued Crowley would lick the heat and the aftertaste of Talisker into Aziraphale's mouth, then, before it had the chance to dissipate completely.

He could. He could.

It's in those stretched milliseconds, brimming with a tender longing so acute it tips right over into an agony, that Aziraphale realizes: I do need all of you, darling, don't I? So terribly much it might unmake me one day. Never mind Aziraphale's most fickle and blustering attempts at denial, he knows this to be true as he knows the truth of little else in the cosmos.

And perhaps today is that day—the day Aziraphale will dissolve and be remade in the permanent shape of lack.

Peacemaker is, in my not so humble opinion, one of the best New Series Adventures novels of the RTD1 era. I loved it immensely - and read it aloud (sitting in the kitchen at night, behind a tightly locked door, so as not to disturb anyone at home, and no one would disturb me!) The scene in the cave - if I remember the circumstances correctly - was quite powerful, to say the least.

The interesting thing is that the (for want of a better term) Martha run is pretty solid in quality of novels, compared to Rose’s and Donna’s. I can name three books off the top of my head that I consider to be top notch, at least in terms of characterisation - Peacemaker, Forever Autumn and Wishing Well (and The Frozen Wastes from the Doctor-lite The Story Of Martha is exquisite!).

I remember that from all the books with Rose as companion I found the sole Only Human (erm, it doesn’t sound as clever as I thought it would be) to be really great, and as for Donna… well, to be fair, there are only four novels with her. The Doctor Trap is fun (and a bit whumpy which is great, if you ask me), Ghosts Of India gets Donna’s character exactly right, which is no a mean feat, and In The Blood is rather patchy, but has some great moments (and whump too!).

Anyway, I think I'll give the role reading another try tonight, thanks, OP!

It's been months and I'm still recovering from this novel. It's what shifted me [quite violently] from "I enjoy TenMartha" to "Oh... I think I'm consumed with them now"

You can read it here for free if you like!

I've said this before, but being so late in the game, it feels like everyone has probably already experienced all of these things that are either new or semi-new to me... But perhaps you haven't; perhaps you're tragically unaware that such works exist, just as I was in the spring!

Warning: The story is graphically violent in ways I've never encountered in a DW novel. It's gorgeous for it, but I felt like I should say.

I've read so many versions of the analysis of THAT scene, and, to be honest, most of them were at least very interesting, but this one, in my opinion, is the ultimate.

I should watch the season once again… but, frankly, I'm not ready yet.

A very long meta explaining why the confession scene in Good Omens is the best that has ever been written and performed on screen

First of, the scene begins with two different realisations that makes each of them believe that their dynamic will significantly change (Crowley wanting to confess his love and Aziraphale wanting to break out the news about heaven). This, you can see, creates an unprecedented shift in their energy, makes them super excited (Azi) and super nervous (Crowley) to break the news to one another. And despite the two matters being drastically different, when Aziraphale begins his revelation we don't get the Miscommunication trope where Crowley listens to the offer and passively retreats back his emotions. No. He is steadfast in his resolution, in his love for Aziraphale.

And that right here is king attitude no.1, because even if Aziraphale just threw something so godforsaken on him, he won't allow himself to be cowardly or let go of the one person he loves more than eternity. Crowley still bares his heart, still lets it all out, because he will not lose Aziraphale in his naivete of still believing that Heaven is good and Hell is evil. (I write this with supreme detachment of my own beliefs lol) He tries to make Aziraphale understand that sides didn't do them any good the past 6000 years, that the only solid foundation they ever had was them, and that Crowley would rather have them than have everything.

Now you see here a moment of disbelief on Aziraphale's behalf, because he doesn't understand why Crowley would refuse going back to heaven with him when all Aziraphale remembers of Angel!Crowley was how utterly bright his eyes shone when he lit up the stars and surely Crowley must miss that too? He wants the same thing Crowley is saying, just in a different dimension. The “I can make a difference” immediately changes to “We can make a difference” because that's all what’s ever been for Aziraphale; them changing the small engines of the world according to their partnered will. He is genuinely benign and not ill-intentioned when he says “Nothing lasts forever”, because he truly wants a better life for them, a better existence. And that's when it gets better: Crowley has his walls back up, he's walking away, because he can't bear that he was never enough as he is for Aziraphale. That he was never worth reciprocation.

The way you hear Tennant's voice breaking when he said “And we spent our whole existence pretending that we aren’t”, is the perfect reflection of how Crowley genuinely despairs the time they lost and wouldn't have any more of it. And even with how bare and raw he's feeling with revealing all this, he still goes on. He still tries to tell him and I would like to spend our whole existence together, but struggles and struggles because he's strung wide open. But he keeps trying.

But Aziraphale doesn't let him leave.

And that's when it gets reaaally interesting. Aziraphale's expression then turns from sorrowful desperation to rageful desperation, because he's baring his heart and Crowley is walking away from him. Their solid ground is completely shaken when he says “I don't think you understand what I'm offering you” because he's trying to be subtle about his love for Crowley and still direct as much as he can, but Crowley responds with a condescending “I think I understand a whole lot better than you do” and if this isn't peak human beings in their arguments, I don't know what is. Because we all think we are so misunderstood every time we get into an argument with someone we love, and we absolutely despise it when we feel patronized, so it's no wonder Aziraphale bitterly says “Then there's nothing more to say”, because if Crowley understands, truly does, then he'd see right past his fear to how much he loves the ground Crowley walks over.

And that is king attitude no.2, because he doesn't want Crowley to leave when things are strewn all over the place that they don't know where they stand. All Aziraphale ever wanted was for them to stand on the same ground. He asks him to come back to him but hides it by finishing it with “to heaven!” because the whole conversation is going too fast for him, and he's undergoing a religious crisis of sorts that does not end in 6000 years, yet even so he still doesn't want to lose Crowley because he's everything he has and he can't do it without him and “I — I need you!”

And on the other hand I don't believe Crowley truly meant to be patronizing, but in a desperate last attempt he wanted to make Aziraphale understand what he is trying to say, what he spent his entire eternity feeling for Aziraphale, what Aziraphale would be giving up if he goes to heaven. What their life sounds like with no nightingales.

“You idiot, we could've been.. us” is the very culmination of love confessions. It took every single emotion and equated it. Tennant's delivery of it was unsurpassed in the way that it truly covers everything. And the way he grabbed Aziraphale, not entirely lovingly but desperately and angrily and, honest to God, awfully, is the reason why their kiss is so perfect. No queerbaiting, no beating around bushes. It is raw and sad and giving and agonising. Crowley wants to say see what you're giving up? See what we can have? And all Aziraphale thinks is how could you lay this on me now after everything, after every chance we could've been something, after me loving you from the first time I've met you. He's angry towards himself too, because nothing he can offer Crowley will be good enough that he chooses him instead of his choices. Sheen's choice in making his character grab Crowley's shoulder and let it go and then grab it once more in desperation is so unexplainably perfect of how much Aziraphale wants to hold onto Crowley.

And when Crowley lets go of him, not the other way around because of course it is Crowley who must let go and detach from the utter pain that pierced his heart, you can see his expression being one of defeated longing. He sees all expressions passing across Aziraphale, sees how torn apart the other man is, too, and awaits just a semblance of anything they could work with. But instead, Aziraphale's face closes, and he tells Crowley “I forgive you”, and Crowley thinks this must be his second falling, because he's never felt more pain. “Don’t bother”, he says, yet still waits for Aziraphale outside and doesn't leave until Aziraphale has left him. Because in the end, Crowley would always be there for Aziraphale, even if he doesn’t feel worthy of it.

But in the back of his mind, Crowley isn't choosing the same. Instead, Crowley's choosing to run from something that no doubt will rebound in their faces. They are angels and demons of heaven and hell, how could Crowley expect they could run and hide without being a repercussion later on? At least what Aziraphale is suggesting ensures that they will have a high position of power, enough to make them together, enough to make them happy, but instead, Crowley is walking away.

And that, my beloveds, is why eternity will remember this scene.

When I first watched Good Omens 2 I was surprised by the ending. I had been so focused the romance of the season. The Jane Austen, the witty retorts, the dancing, the secrets glancing. I took the bait and when the ending came I fell hook line and sinker. Much like Crowley I felt I had drove into a pot of boiling sulfur. But then looking back I realized if I had actually been following the story we were being told instead as of getting swept up in the romance, I would have realized it was never going to end happily.

The flashbacks are what really foretell the ending. They aren’t just fun romps through history. They serve a purpose. And the purpose is to set up and elaborate upon how Crowely and Aziraphale see the world and each other, and how they see heaven, hell and earth. And what these flashbacks prove is they have huge gaps between the ways they see the world that need to be bridged. Those gaps could have been crossed ages ago but as the flashbacks show multiple times- Crowley and Aziraphale don’t communicate well and that leads to disaster. It will destroy them if they don’t sort it out- I mean their ability to communicate is so lacking that it literally ends with Crowley pointing a gun in Aziraphale’s face and shooting it. And he gets in this pickle because he loves him! Which is pretty twisted! And if the gun wasn’t dangerous enough their friendship them almost gets revealed to hell by zombies- grossly incompetent zombies at that! If Aziraphale hadn’t managed to pull off that magic trick- which easily could have happened. He’s very bad at magic. Who knows what horrible things would have happened to the both of them.

This miscommunication gap also hurts the people around them. If Crowley had explained the why Elspeth was graverobbing to Aziraphale instead of letting him watch and figure out for himself maybe things wouldn’t have gone so far and Wee Morag wouldn’t have ended up dead. Or at least Aziraphale and Crowley could have found away to help Wee Morag that didn’t involved inspiring displays of well… Scottishness? while being drunk on laudanum that end up with Crowley getting sent to hell and tortured (tortured to the point that some people have pointed out that when Crowley gets he asks for holy water for insurance- which is just plain sad and awful, and leads to even more conflict between Aziraphale and Crowley. Or if Aziraphale hadn’t felt the need to plan an entire ball just to dance with Crowley- cause let’s be honesty that’s really why he did it- maybe all of his guests wouldn’t have ended up in danger.

I remember upon watching the episode with the graveyard and Scottish Crowley- being dismayed with how behind ideologically Aziraphale was compared to Crowley. I knew he would do a huge amount of growing in the two centuries to follow. But part of me had filled in the blanks and assumed he would be farther along in that journey by the 1800s. I remember wondering how he was going to catch up in between then and the present day. When I watched the finale episode I realized he hasn’t caught up. He hasn’t quite made the leap away from heaven. He might think he has and Crowley might even be starting to think that too. He even had us as an audience beginning to think he had let go of that baggage But Aziraphale’s problem is he wants to do good . He wants to save the world and heaven with it. he can’t quite give up the ghost- he is too self sacrificial. He’s going to need to learn that he, like many kids of abusive parents- can’t fix the situation he came from. Not without sacrificing himself. He’s going to have to stop running and confront his baggage to truly be free of it. And Crowley on the other hand needs to realize he can’t just run from his past. He needs to reckon with his time as both angel and demon. He needs to grieve what was taken from him instead of just living in opposition to it. Because Crowley’s problem is he too wants to save the world. He just wants to do it in his own (and maybe with Aziraphale, but mostly on his own). He too is way too self sacrificial to the point that he sacrifices himself and his sense of self time and time again all in the name of his own side. His side may be the only truly good one between heaven and hell. But he is only one entity. He has to learn to open up again. To truly open up. Which is why it’s so frustrating that when he finally opens up to Aziraphale in episode 6, things go wrong! But as frustrating as it is, it sets an amazing stage. It gives Aziraphale the chance to build up Crowley’s trust. To build up Crowley’s faith in them as team. So that when Crowley opens his heart again it’s done on his own terms and in a way that is healing. Poor Crowley has been though so much, and he has been through so much of it alone. People can affirm themselves and their path’s in life only so much with out needing some support from others. Notice how Crowley is still living in his car. He never asked if he could move into Aziraphale’s bookshop. He sees himself as a burden, as not good enough for the angelic Aziraphale that he so admires. He probably thinks he would weigh him down. Crowley needs affirmation to heal. He needs to be loved and not loved in a way that’s cloaked with shame, but loved in a way that is able to sit with self comfortable. But Aziraphale is not at the point where he can give that love yet. When that happens he can help Crowley heal from his abandonment by heaven. He’s been picking up after heaven’s mistakes since before his fall. It’s time for someone to take care of him in return. Because as much as Crowley says his actions have nothing to do with heaven or hell, he does still feel burdened by their weight. Now he can’t do this journey just with Aziraphale. He needs to do some of it on his own. Bu he needs love to heal- we all do. So does Aziraphale. They can give each other that. But they have to be ready to. They have to do the work they need to do on themselves to get to that point.

For Halloween in their South Downs Cottage, Aziraphale gives out full size candy bars and Crowley gives out potatoes.

Something I noticed in the confession is that they don't REALLY respond to what the other is saying

Crowley says "run away with me" and Aziraphale says "come with me to heaven"

Both are saying "be with me" but neither stops to figure out why the other wouldn't want to go

Crowley says "you can't leave this bookshop" and Aziraphale says "nothing lasts forever"

Crowley thinks he ended it.

Aziraphale says "we can make a difference" and Crowley says "good luck"

Both are leaving. Neither stayed until they could agree, or at least understand each other

Aziraphale says "I need you" and Crowley says "no nightingales"

Aziraphale thinks he ended it.

Aziraphale says "I forgive you" and Crowley says "don't bother"

That's the one that sticks.

An incredible analysis from the apparel point of view, so to say.

"For those characters who are assured of themselves, and their fashion choices, (Aziraphale, Crowley and Nina) their appearance doesn't change at all."

I've noticed that Nina's clothes didn't change, and was a bit baffled by it. But really, if you think about it... she's really the one who's "acutely aware of herself and the world around her". Perfectly spotted, as well as all other bits about the guests at Aziraphale's party.

I'm sure someone has already made this observation, but the ball scene, you guys. Let's talk.

Specifically, about the apparel.

Obviously, Aziraphale worked a little bit of his angelic magic to make sure that romance was in the air so Nina and Maggie would fall for one another, but this magic also extends to the other party guests; Mrs. Sandwich not being able to say seamstress, everyone inexplicably knowing how to do the Country Dance, and, more to my point, their clothes.

Upon entering the party some people's change and others' don't, and there's a lot of symbolism there for each character based on whether or not their outfit changes.

The clothes are a direct reflection on the subconscious of that individual, magnified by Aziraphale's magic. They enter the party in the clothes they see themselves in, not necessarily what they were wearing before.

For those characters who are assured of themselves, and their fashion choices, (Aziraphale, Crowley and Nina) their appearance doesn't change at all. They're comfortable as themselves in any setting (It's important to note that Nina's clothes do change, but it's so slight that you barely notice). Fancy ball or not, they wear the same outfit they normally do because they present themselves how they see themselves. Nina even looks down at herself upon entering the shop and remarks, "I'm going mad," making her the only guest to actually acknowledge the fact that something odd is going on; she's acutely aware of herself and the world around her, so when her strong sense of self is being meddled with, she notices.

For the other characters, however, those whose outfits change, this reflects something deeper about their character which is manifesting itself in their style choices; Maggie's clothes change into something nicer than just a plain t-shirt and jeans because she wants to impress Nina, Mrs. Sandwich swaps her tracksuit for a glamorous blazer since she sees herself (as she should) as a proper businesswoman, and Ms. Cheng lets her hair down from the tight bun, signifying her "loosening up" at the party.

All this to say that Jim's Liberace get-up is even more hilarious when you think about it from this perspective.

Look at how fast David Tennant throws himself down those stairs.

This is from the Doctor Who Confidential episode “Stage Fright” (which accompanied The Shakespeare Code)

You can see that the three of them (the Doctor, Martha, and Shakespeare) start together at the top of the stairs.  David runs down at breakneck speed - taking the steps at least two at a time - leaving Martha and Shakespeare far behind (Freema and Dean are running more like normal people - being careful to not to kill themselves on the old and probably rather uneven steps).  

I don’t think he can even stand up straight on those stairs - he’s crouching down because the ceiling/covering is too low for him.  He somehow even manages to make it look graceful.  Amazing!

Oh yes, yes, exactlly that! 

He still thought that the angel crowley would be the whole (wholier, no such word, I know, sorry), crowley, and that’s heartbreaking in the ways I couldn’t even think it would be. 

noooo i already saw so many people misinterpret the ending😭😭 guys, the problem is not that aziraphale chose heaven over crowley, but that he chose angel crowley over crowley.

DT talk throwback: my interview w/David Blair, director of Takin' Over The Asylum

Over half a decade ago now I was a writer for David Tennant News/DT Forum, one of the bigger unofficial fan sites of DT's at the time (now sadly defunct). During my time there, I got the chance in Jan 2016 to interview David Blair - most notably the director of Takin' Over The Asylum, though he worked with DT in three other shows - about those projects, and what he remembered about David. I didn't want this interview to sink into the depths of the Wayback Machine and I thought y'all might enjoy reading it, so here is that interview in its entirety:

David Blair, Director / Front Cover of BBC DVD for Takin' Over The Asylum (UK)

Hello Mr. Blair! From 1992-1996 you worked with David Tennant on four separate television shows:  Strathblair in 1992, The Brown Man in 1993, Takin' Over The Asylum in 1994 and A Mug's Game in 1996.   Were you at all involved in the casting process for Strathblair, the first project you worked with David on... If so what did you see in the young actor that won him the role?  And how did that translate into choosing him as Campbell Bain?

I was a Producer at the BBC before I started directing. David was a student at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music & Drama in Glasgow. He asked if he could meet me just to talk through procedure for TV, interviews, etc., as the college appeared more interested in theatre than camera. Indeed, frowned on the latter! He’d be about 18 then. I certainly knew from the outset that he ‘had something,’ and I gave him a few minor opportunities as soon as I embarked on my directing career. To be clear, I only work with actors I want and believe in – still do. Some might say my own career has been stifled by this obduracy but I don’t care. My need of working with great actors is paramount and David’s a shining example of what makes it all worthwhile. I commissioned Takin’ Over The Asylum for the BBC and worked closely with the writer throughout the creative process. I knew as soon as I read the screenplay, David was going to be perfect for Campbell. But I’m not a fascist about this kind of decision-making, so I mentioned to the writer and Casting Director I had a boy ‘in mind’ for the role. I didn’t oversell; I knew he would make it work for himself. There may have been some minor scepticism at first, but when he did his audition, he blew them away.

David's audition tape for Takin' Over The Asylum

Many of David's fans have seen Takin' Over The Asylum and are well-versed with it. Can you talk more about Strathblair, The Brown Man and A Mug's Game, and David's roles in each?  Little is known about the roles he played in those productions. Can you give us any insight into the stories behind all three of the projects themselves, and what was it about David in those years that made you want to cast him in all of them?

In truth, Strathblair and The Brown Man were merely cogs in my directing wheel. They weren’t aesthetically of great merit but gave me a few credits to kick-start my career. What I needed was a ‘signature piece’ and that came along with Takin’ Over The Asylum. In many ways, I regard that as the start of my directing career. In those days, without a high-profile production on your CV, you would more than likely be destined for a treadmill of soaps and ‘continuing drama’. Before Asylum I was picking up scraps; after it, I was being asked what I wanted to do. Thus A Mug’s Game became my second collaboration with Donna Franceschild, who’d written Asylum. Ken Stott, Katy Murphy and others from Asylum were already on board - and really? We just wanted David to ‘be in it’. It wasn’t a huge role but he kindly agreed to come in and do it for us. Played a music student (at the Scottish Academy, as it happens), as I recall but, again, hugely professional and accomplished. In one scene, he had to throw up over the railway tracks at Partick train station in Glasgow.... ah, an enduring memory.....

Did David do anything on set of any of the productions he worked on with you that totally took you by surprise or that was unexpected?  What did he do?

I think in those days, more than anything, it was important to keep in mind just how young he was. This boy of 21, was commanding the space, displaying an extraordinary ability to create laughter and tears; sometimes both at the same time! He had natural charm and wit and that, combined with this wonderfully spontaneous joie de vivre, made him a joy to be around both on the set and off.

What do you feel David's most unique/valuable attributes as an actor are?  What do you think separates him from his peers as he has matured into the career he has today?

When I look at him now I still largely see the same lad I met all those years ago. Still bursting with enthusiasm and an absolute desire to come out on top – which he’s done consistently. He’s retained his appetite, clearly, and devoured a huge range of roles – never seeking a ‘comfort zone’ in the process. It’s also struck me that he’s never attempted to be somebody he’s not and that truth, integrity, diligence – some might say, ‘Scottishness’ (!) – defines the man we see today.

David has said he considers Takin' Over The Asylum a career-defining project for him. What is your reaction so many years down the line to that comment?

I’ve always been rather humbled by David’s regard for myself and Takin’ Over The Asylum. I genuinely never felt I did anything out of the ordinary. I picked the best man for the job which, God knows, he underlined in spades once he played the role. He gave me as much as I gave him. Of course, there are occasions in my own career where I look back at defining moments and say “if it hadn’t been for so-and-so”.... but, I guess, the reason why we can reflect in that way, is because we didn’t let anybody down. David didn’t – and I hope I didn’t.   Looking back at Takin' Over The Asylum all these years later, do you feel it still holds up as well as it did?  In retrospect do you feel it helped shed as much needed light on the mental health industry as you'd hoped?

Funnily enough, somebody called me the other day to say he’d sat down and watched all six episodes and couldn’t believe how well it’s stood the test of time. I think I agree. I suppose because it’s a subject matter nobody would touch with a bargepole these days – that’s keeps it fresh somehow. All the scripts were vetted by the Association For Mental Health before we signed off on them. The writer had had mental health issues and wanted it to be authentic and in no way derisory. In fact, I remember many of the extras I cast all had had mental issues – one in particular having been institutionalised for 37 years!

I'd like to explore your decision to cast institutionalized patients as extras in Takin' Over The Asylum in a bit more detail. Was this related to filming the series at Gartloch Hospital, and if not, how was the idea first presented and eventually implemented?  Was this something you and Donna discussed as part of your intention to make the show as sensitive to the subject matter and as authentic as you could?  And did you run into any problems with compensating the extras, or any other issues relating to their Sectioned status?

It was simply an idea I had not just to add authenticity, but to have these guys make a worthwhile contribution to the film – and also make them feel good about it, if you like. I wanted to dispel the notion that all mentally ill people were screaming banshees – the story alludes to this anyway – by whose definition are we mad? I also thought it would help the non-mad actors (if there is such a thing!!!) to be surrounded by the ‘real’ rather than the ‘made up’ and thereby enrich their own performances.

Speaking of Gartloch Hospital, how did you choose that particular hospital for the filming location?

Gartloch was one of several mental hospitals around Glasgow being run down at the time, as part of the government’s controversial ‘care in the community’ programme. In other words, ‘we don’t want to pay to look after them any more, so you do it’. Of all the ones I looked at, Gartloch – not least with its huge tower – seemed to provide the best ambience; most suitable for the story and visually rewarding also.

Exploratory views of the interior and exterior of (now abandoned) Gartloch Hospital

As you mentioned, you do certainly seem to gravitate towards actors and writers that inspire you. Years ago you spotted a certain something in David -- so if given an opportunity, would you be willing to work with David again and if you could choose your own ideal role for him, what would that role entail?

Nothing would give me more pleasure than finding a project that both David and I could work on. David, creatively, is a bit of chameleon, so I don’t think there’s an ‘ideal role’ for him as such. A brilliant piece of writing and a character that takes him a place he hasn’t been before would be the simple remit.

Over the years many fans of Takin' Over The Asylum have expressed their desire to know what happened to Campbell and Eddie after we left them. If you were to continue their story, where do you think Campbell and Eddie would be today?

My hunch is that Campbell would have gone on to be a success in the music industry and Eddie would have tumbled into an even darker place, fueled by alcohol and self-doubt. I’ve often imagined Campbell inadvertently bumping into Eddie while he was sleeping in a cardboard box and Campbell doing for Eddie what Eddie had done for Nana in the very first episode.

Lore is - from Donna amongst others -- that you asked her to take a minor character from a play she'd written and make a drama around him. Of course that character is Ready Eddie McKenna. Could you tell us what the name of that play was?  And what was there about Eddie in the framework of that play that made you see him as the kind of character that could carry an entire series - and that Donna was the woman to write it?

With regard to the question below, it’s strange how little fateful moments define what we are and what we do. In my early days as a Producer, I commissioned Donna to write one of four monologues I was overseeing – I didn’t direct it, as it happens, but it was a sterling piece performed by Katy Murphy. The BBC – not myself – then commissioned Donna to adapt a stage play she’d written called And The Cow Jumped Over The Moon to fit a play strand we were doing at the time.

On the day of the studio, the Producer overseeing the project, was taken ill and they asked me to fill in for her ‘in the gallery’. (This was an old TV play where you worked in a rehearsal room for, say, three weeks then shot the whole thing – multi-camera – in a matter of days). Of course, as a result, I became familiar with the material and was indeed taken by this minor character – Eddie – who was a hospital radio DJ. After that, I asked Donna if she felt there might be mileage in creating a serial based around this character. I’d love to go into great and meaningful depth about why I thought that but, in truth, it was just a hunch – although it was one relative to how Donna was writing at that time; I believed she could deliver something unique with wide appeal. She hadn’t done any original TV work at that time (apart from the monologue) and had worries.

It took her some time to finally come up with a first draft – the breakthrough, she told me, came when she switched from just a hospital to a mental hospital. After that, we worked the episodes one at a time getting precisely where we wanted to be on one, before moving on to the next. Not an option that’s often available these days. During this process both Donna and I were supported hugely by the then Head of The Department, Bill Bryden. And that support manifested most clearly in simply leaving us to our own devices. No script executives, story editors or any other distractions. The work we ended up with had the footprint of nobody but ourselves.

And that's that! I hope you all enjoyed this unique insight into Takin' Over The Asylum and DT's work with David Blair.