By Jonathan Morris

You wouldn't believe the reaction these silly, little reviews have received in some quarters. I have ridiculed and vilified. I have been accosted.

I have, it seems, not been treating The Prisoner with due reverence. I have been smug and self-indulgent. I have taken piss.

I don't really mind people saying that, because, well, guilty as charged. I have been blowing a wet raspberry at fans who take the show too seriously. Yes, I have.

But there is one person far more guilty of that than me.

Patrick McGoohan.

If anyone is guilty of holding The Prisoner up to ridicule - it's him.

Fall Out is Patrick McGoohan widdling in the faces of his fans.

You know that bit in Fall Out, when Number 6 rips off Number 1's monkey mask, and it's revealed to be Patrick McGoohan laughing hysterically at the camera?

He's laughing at you, he is. He's laughing at everyone who has taken The Prisoner seriously.

Now, some fans may disagree. They'll claim it's an act of defiance. They'll say, 'No, Jonny, McGoohan is laughing at Lew Grade, aaaah�'

I wish he was but he isn't. Lew Grade couldn't care less what happened in The Prisoner, he was too busy teaching his keen red-braced nephew how to axe things.

McGoohan having a mean-spirited, mash-faced rant wasn't going to achieve anything except make McGoohan look unemployable. Fall Out is not someone sticking two fingers up at the businessman in his suit and tie. It's a hissy fit.

McGoohan collapses everything that had been built up over the previous sixteen episodes. This episode is someone scribbling over the work of George Markstein. 'If you won't let me finish it the way I want, then I won't finish it properly.'

A week ago, Number 6 regressed to his childhood. He still hasn't grown up.

At the beginning of this episode Number 6 walks down a corridor to the sound of All You Need Is Love. What does it mean? It can mean whatever you want it to mean.

And whilst we're on this Beatles note, I'd like to return to some points I made in my review for Once Upon A Time as many of the criticisms that apply to that episode apply to this, tenfold. Because where Once Upon A Time was portentous, Fall Out is contemptuous. It is one of the most sarcastic pieces of television ever made.

But you have to watch it, honestly you must. Because whilst the preceding episodes saw McGoohan's ideas clothed in spy shenanigans, this episode sees his vision stripped bare. Unfortunate it looked better with clothes on. Like Mary Morris.

Back on the Beatles note. If Once Upon A Time was a Beatles song, it'd be What's The New Mary Jane?' Fuddled, child-like, and unlistenable. Living In Harmony would be Rocky Racoon - an inane pastiche. But what song would Fall Out be?

The apocalyptic, nihilistic A Day In The Life?

The obscure, twisted, I Am The Walrus?

No. It's Glass Onion.

Those not familiar with 'filler' album tracks by The Beatles might not know this song. Glass Onion was written at about the same time that Fall Out was being broadcast - though as the Beatles were away in India, they probably missed it unless they set the video - and concerns the mythology that had built up around them. Beatles fans had started searching for 'hidden meanings'. That bit on Sergeant Pepper that sounds like 'We'll f*** you like supermen' played backwards - what did they actually mean?

So John Lennon decided it was time for a reality check. He trawls through their hits, name-checking songs at random - Strawberry Fields, Fixing A Hole, Lady Madonna, Fool On The Hill - and, in a glorious snipe, he sings, 'And here's another clue for you all - the Walrus was Paul.'

He's pointing out how absurd looking for hidden meanings is. He's saying, 'You know that weird stuff we did last year? Well, it was all BOLLOCKS.'

And Beatles fans missed the point and started looking for clues in the lyrics of 'Glass Onion'. What did Lennon mean when he said the Walrus was Paul? Maybe Walrus was the nickname of Billy Shears who was the replacement brought in when Paul blew his mind out in a car crash and lost his hair?

I think Fall Out attempts the same thing. It's sending up the notion of there being any sort of rationale behind The Prisoner. The whole 'who is Number 1' denouement is played for laughs at the audience's expense. It is someone pursing their lips and rubbing them up and down to make the sound wblblblblblblbblblblblblblbblblb.

And yet some Prisoner fans, like the Beatles fans with Glass Onion, still take it seriously. There must be a hidden meaning to Fall Out. It couldn't all just be mindless cod-satirical gobbledegook, could it?

But if there is any message to Fall Out, any subtext, it is this:

Please please please whatever you do don't take The Prisoner too seriously.

If you must take it seriously, stick to the early, George Markstein episodes, with location filming and plots. Arrival. The Chimes Of Big Ben. Checkmate.

The mind-bendy stuff was great, in moderation. But as it overwhelms the show it destroys it. When fans think of The Prisoner, they think of the early episodes - The Village, the chess game, Rover. They don't think of a guy in a monkey mask.

Weirdness doesn't go anywhere. It couldn't - weirdness never does. It simply accumulates. And it makes Number 6 - it makes McGoohan - look ridiculous, as he stands in the middle of it all, scowling suspiciously, as po-faced as a po.

Number 6 is led to a big underground cavern. It's one of those underground caverns that you find at the end of Bond films. Acres of flat floor, polystyrene boulders and an implausible number of stalactites.

There's a lot to take in. There's the seesaw periscope - one of the few bits of the original set they had left, presumably. There's a throne. There's a laboratory area. There's soldiers. And, in the centre of it all, an amphitheatre with a central podium. And at that podium stands a judge...

�oh my god, it's 'Are you telling me I don't know my own brother?' again! The most short-lived Number 2 of the lot - whereas the others had attempted to get Number 6 to talk by giving him drugs, or using Special Machines, this Number 2's plan had been to 'Listen To Him Telling A Story To See If He Accidentally Lets Slip Why He Resigned'.

Seated at the amphitheatre are robed figures with white/black masks. They're sinister, in a Ku Klux Klan type of way, all waiting for their Jerry Springer moment. And that's what this episode is - an episode of Jerry Springer.

It has it all. Surprise reunions. A chanting audience. Some staged fighting. An Enigmatic Fat Midget. There's even a message for those at home...

Yes, there is a message. I think it's supposed to sum up The Prisoner in one pithy phrase:

'Number 6... you have vindicated the right of the individual to be an individual!'

Well, of course he has. That's because he's SO DAMN HARD.

Okay, so it's not all that pithy, admittedly, but that's probably because the writer was half-pithed when he wrote it.

The judge tells the gathered Ku-Kluxies that he will revive Number 2. That's Number 2 from the previous episode, who died, so they need to connect him to a Special Machine to revive him. And also - and this is very important - they need to give him a shave and dye his hair ginger.

Now you know and I know that they give Rumpole a shave because this episode was recorded a while after the previous one and the actor didn't have a beard. However, what's impressive is the explanation they give in the story. Which is...

... non-existent!

However, before Number 2 can be questioned by the judge - not sure why this is a trial, but never mind - he must first question number 48 - Alexis Kanner.

Mark Riley: 'Whooooooo?'

He was a cowboy in Living In Harmony. Him.

It's around this point - the ten-minute mark - that the episode starts to truly disintegrate. The whole thing seems to have been compiled ad hoc in the editing suite. It's Magical Mystery Tour. It's Head. It's Casino Royale.

Number 48 isn't quite the same character as he was in the previous episodes. The judge harangues him about the follies of youth - the actor is obviously just saying anything that comes into his head - and Number 48 responds by singing Dem Bones. For the chorus he is joined by the Black-And-White Ku Klux Klan Show.

Oh, to have Joanne Whalley dressed as a nurse! Instead, we have Alexis bouncing about the Bond cave like an elasticated loon.

Number 6, meanwhile, adjudicates the 'who can be the worst actor' competition between the judge and Number 48. Number 48 loses and is sent downstairs. Rumpole is awakened from his death to take part in round two. Again, I think the Judge wins it. Rumpole cheekily does a 'be seeing you' to the camera. To all the viewers at home.

Excuse me. Please don't break the fourth wall. It's the only thing keeping this programme out.

The Judge then presents Number 6 with the keys to his house and his passport, and tells him he is free to go.

Why is Number 6 being allowed to go? Oh, why are you even asking? I don't know, McGoohan doesn't know, the seesaw periscope twins don't know, the elasticated loon doesn't know and Rumpole's too busy laughing his head off to give a flying fig.

It's time for Number 6 to give a victory speech. This show has increasingly become a mouthpiece for McGoohan's brand of adolescent, paranoid solipsism, and this episode seems to embody that philosophy. Most adolescents go through a phase where they discover solipsism - it's essentially a belief that 'I am right, and everyone else is wrong'. But most adolescents usually move on and discover that there is a life beyond their attic, their Alan Moore comics and their collection of black t-shirts.

McGoohan's big speech - which could have been a huge moment, a massive, tour de force of which I am sure McGoohan was capable- is just frittered away. The robed figures interrupted Number 6 each time he attempts to speak. 'I, I, I, I' they chant, as though to reinforce the idea of the whole thing being a solipsistic delusion.

The Judge decides to take Number 6 to meet Number 1.

This is where it starts getting really confusing.

Number 6 finds himself in a room full of globes. What this means I do not know. However, in the background, there is the Big Red Phone! I knew it would be important!

Oh my goodness, there's a bloke in a robe with number 1 on the side!

MCGOOHAN FACE! PRISON BARS!
MCGOOHAN FACE! PRISON BARS!
MCGOOHAN FACE! PRISON BARS!

Rips off mask.

MONKEY!

Rips off monkey mask.

MCGOOHAN LAUGHING LIKE A PRIZE MENTALIST!

Number 1 has run off, leaving Number 6 alone... hang on. Hang on. What the hell happened just there?

Now the Enigmatic Fat Midget has turned up! And he's on Number 6's side! Why? Who cares!

They use fire extinguishers to keep the robed goons at bay. And then it's up a ladder, and into the control room of a rocket. It might be the same set as The Girl Who Was Death, it might not, I don't know. Maybe that's a clue. Maybe not.

Why is there a rocket under the village? Finger on lips, wblblblblbblblblblbblblbl.

The countdown is activated - of course, that's what happens with rockets - and Number 6, Number 2, Number 48 and the Enigmatic Fat Midget flee into the cavern, where there is a shoot out to the strains of 'All You Need Is Love'.

How ghastly. Somebody probably thought they were being terribly ironic. Do you see what they did there? People shooting each other as we hear a song about love. It's the sort of thing you'd expect a child, or a small lamb, to come up with. It's about as subtle as... oh, a terrorist being dressed as a clown or something.

The order goes out to evacuate The Village. The evacuation means we get lots of clips from previous episodes of people running about Portmerion.

But what about 6, 2, 48 and EFM? They ran back to the caged room from Once Upon A Time - and then, like in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the cage turns out to be on the back of a lorry.

There's a tear-jerking moment when we see Rover die. He shrivels to the strains of I Like You Very Much. You know, Rover was very sinister in some of the early episodes. Now he's treated as a joke.

The lorry with the cage on the back is next seen driving along the A20 - this episode has now degenerated into 'Blazing Saddles', I'm afraid - with the EFM in the driving seat and 2, 6 and 48 behaving in a mildly madcap fashion in the back.

They pass a car with a 'straight' in it. He looks over and sees McGoohan acting like a gibbon. The 'straight' does a double take. I think at this point McGoohan probably thought he was representing the rebellion of youth. Yo, 'daddy-o'!

It's excruciatingly embarrassing.

We finally discover that The Prisoner is, in fact, a love story. It's about the love that dare not speak its name - the love between man and Enigmatic Fat Midget. They run off together, hand-in-hand. Off for another caning session, no doubt.

We see Alexis Kanner hitchhiking and he gets a caption. The same happens for Rumpole McKern. There's a nice, end-of-term vibe as we say goodbye to the cast, but where was the caption for Rover? He should've had one! Or at least a 'Thanks To The British Meteorological Society For Allowing Us To Borrow Their Balloon.'

Number 6 slips into the seat of his KAR 120C and drives to the nearest disused race track. He needs to practice his scowling. And -

- we're back in the opening titles. It all joins up!

And that's it. No zooming McGoohan face. No bars.

The. End.

I'll ask Patrick McGoohan himself to summarise the main points of the episode:

'�taken to meet number one�.raaaarrrarr... came back to life with ginger hair!... dancing like an elasticated loon�rrraaarr... All dressed in robes, singing Dem Bones Dem Bones hahahaha!... rrrraarr... rocket! Ah! 'Who is number one' 'You are, number six!' Aaaah!... rrraaarr... Monkey! Wooh! ... raaaarrr... 'love, love, love', ironic, very, rraaaarr ... Alan Moore fan in his attic!... rraaaaarrr� big white killer tit! Yes! The sinister Rover! Not the face! Ahaha!... an enigmatic fat midget!... Rumpole McKern... raaaarrrr... back of a lorry, down the A20, dancing like a gibbon!... then I was back in the opening titles! Bwahaaha! Ha! Ha! Raaarr...

But you see.

I was ver. Ver. Drunk.'