Now this is a disappointment. As everyone knows and agrees, Jon Pertwee’s version of the doctor was the best ever in all fifty years of Doctor Who. One may suppose therefore that the literary output of such a great man would be without reproach. Sadly, that’s not the case.

This, my dear readers, is a book for babies. Containing piffle such as stories about dragons hatching from eggs and befriending children, or man-eating fungus houses, or amorphous blob-creatures that rampage out of lakes and devour dozens of people, there’s nothing very… well now I think about it most of the stories in this book actually are quite monstrous!

But the way they are told leaves a lot to be desired. Many of them I suspect were written in minutes, and even as I read them I supposed I may have been able to do better myself. Let me try:

At last the fated hour had arrived. Kron-pirr viewed the battlefield from atop his Daedalus platform, watching the Void Gigas units assemble their time cannons. At his signal they would fire at the city, breaching the etheric defenses and opening the way for the final invasion. Victory was by no means certain, and the losses would be great. But if the Machine Brain was ever to be defeated, it must be here, and it must be now. Once more Kron-Pirr remembered the events that had led him here: the discovery of the artifact (back when he wasn’t even elevated), the human invasion in which Glork’fth was killed, the accidental reactivation and ultimately apotheosis of the dreaded alien technology. Kron-pirr had indirectly caused the machine revolution, and if his planet had any chance to survive, he must now end it. He noted the Gigases had completed their task, and the troops were ready for his signal. He raised his tentacle…

Hey, that’s not really anything to do with Monsters is it? It’s almost as if the saga of Kron-pirr has taken over these reviews!

At any rate, this book is hardly worth the Pertwee name. My advice: save your gold sovereigns.