First broadcast on 17 May 2008, The Unicorn and the Wasp is a gleeful detour in the otherwise emotionally rich Series Four, embracing the style and charm of a 1920s country house murder mystery with a classic Doctor Who twist. Written by Gareth Roberts and directed by Graeme Harper, the episode sees the Doctor and Donna cross paths with none other than Agatha Christie herself, embroiled in a real-life whodunit involving secret identities, family scandals, and a giant alien wasp. Rewatching in 2025, it remains an entertaining, tightly plotted and deeply affectionate tribute to Christie, brimming with wit and a surprisingly thoughtful centre.
The setup is deliciously familiar: a glamorous manor, a storm brewing outside, a house full of suspects, and then—a murder. But from the outset, The Unicorn and the Wasp distinguishes itself through its commitment to period detail and playful tone. The decision to feature Agatha Christie as a character, rather than just pastiche her style, elevates the episode from homage to metafictional fun. Fenella Woolgar delivers a wonderfully measured performance as Christie, capturing both the iconic writer’s poise and the personal turmoil of a woman at a crossroads in her life.
The guest cast is especially rich with nods and connections to the broader Doctor Who universe and beyond. Fenella Woolgar’s casting as Agatha Christie was suggested by David Tennant himself, having previously worked with her on Bright Young Things and He Knew He Was Right. Woolgar would go on to voice characters in several Big Finish audio dramas, including The Company of Friends and Nevermore. Her background also includes appearances in episodes of Agatha Christie’s Poirot, linking her even more closely to the literary world her character inhabits here. David Tennant’s real-life father, Alexander McDonald, makes a silent cameo as a footman—stepping in on the day while visiting his son on set. It’s a quiet but sweet piece of trivia that adds another layer of warmth to the production.
Elsewhere, the episode is further strengthened by the presence of British television icons. Christopher Benjamin, playing Colonel Curbishley, is a welcome face for classic Doctor Who fans, having previously starred in Inferno (1970) and The Talons of Weng-Chiang (1977), the latter as the much-loved Henry Gordon Jago. Felicity Kendal brings a regal charm to Lady Eddison, while a young Felicity Jones—destined for greater stardom—shines as the poised and sharp-tongued Robina Redmond. Together, the ensemble cast gives the episode a sense of theatrical flair and period authenticity that grounds even the most outrageous sci-fi twists.
When it comes to the regulars, David Tennant, as ever, is on sparkling form. His Doctor relishes the absurdity of the scenario, channeling Poirot one moment, then racing from clue to clue with wide-eyed glee. Tennant’s comedic timing is on full display, particularly in the infamous scene where the Doctor is poisoned and requires a series of absurd culinary countermeasures (complete with slapstick mime and Donna slapping him). It’s silly, yes, but it’s performed with such gusto that it remains one of the most memorable comic beats in the Tenth Doctor era.
Catherine Tate once again proves her value as one of the show’s finest companions. Donna is perfectly suited to this kind of setting—outspoken, curious, and utterly unfazed by the social pretensions of the time. She gets some of the best lines and serves as an audience proxy, calling out the genre tropes even as she revels in them. Her growing comfort with alien weirdness is evident, and her respect for Agatha Christie (tinged with some light fandom) adds warmth to their interactions.
The central mystery is surprisingly well constructed. Gareth Roberts clearly delights in weaving together Christie-esque twists with sci-fi elements. The real villain, it turns out, is the vicar’s son, who is secretly a Vespiform—a shapeshifting alien wasp triggered by a psychic connection to Christie’s novels. It’s delightfully mad, and yet it never undermines the tone. The blend of detective fiction with extraterrestrial logic works because it plays everything straight, leaning into the drama without winking too hard at the audience.
Beyond the fun, there’s a genuine emotional thread. The episode is set in 1926, the year of Agatha Christie’s real-life disappearance. The story doesn’t try to solve the mystery of her missing days but offers a speculative tribute: that her encounter with the Doctor inspired her most enduring work. It’s a sweet conceit, handled with sensitivity, and it gives the episode a surprisingly poignant ending. When Christie learns she’ll become the best-selling novelist of all time, her modest disbelief is genuinely moving.
The production design deserves particular praise. The period costuming, elegant manor sets, and rich cinematography make this one of the most visually appealing episodes of the season. The giant wasp, while a little rough around the CGI edges even in 2008, is used sparingly enough to remain effective. The mix of humour, horror, and homage is well-balanced, never tipping too far into parody.
Rewatching The Unicorn and the Wasp in 2025, it remains a standout episode—not for high-stakes drama or deep character arcs, but for its sheer enjoyment factor. It’s a celebration of storytelling, of genre, and of the enduring power of imagination. Like the best Christie mysteries, it invites us to play along, to guess the culprit, and to enjoy the ride. And in true Doctor Who fashion, it does all that while reminding us of the real wonder that lies behind a good book, or a well-timed slap.
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