Jim. Jim with masts behind him. Jim with an open-necked shirt, ready to jump aboard a ship and be Jim-on-a-ship? Rarr!
I didn't mean to take so many screenshots straight off – but, oh my, those trousers are rather – ahem – he looks rather well-endowed...
And he has a parrot in a cage to contend with. How lucky that parrot is to be kept in a small cage on the open deck of a sailing ship... But Jim on a ship. Rarr again!
I'm sorry. I really don't mean to take so many shots. But – ass and forearms. Oh my god.
These are so not Peter Graves' hands. Why are we denied the sight of his hands? *sobs*
Okay, this is the last of Jim-on-a-ship, promise. But that chest inside that shirt, and the open neck, and the sea air, and... Oh...
At this rate there are going to be far too many pictures...
Jim has some kind of odd tortoise ornament on his side-table. I can only assume that this was a beloved childhood pet, and when it died he had it embalmed and lacquered. I can't see why else you would have this thing in your apartment.
Jim is satisfied at his choices.
Paris' legs are pleasing here.
Barney is also looking sharp.
Unfortunately there's an ugly guy in front of Paris for most of this scene. But I'm liking the cravat and open-necked shirt. It's nice that he goes for this so often.
Oh my god, Jim, did you take pretty-pills before you started work for the day?
Somebody needs to put a note out to the production people. Jim does not have gorilla hands. See. They are smooth and perfect. Also, Jim has just licked quite a considerable dose of morphine off his finger. He's going to be a happy boy for a while. (Do I need to mention how sexy the licking looks?)
Oh, Paris. My eyes don't know where to look with all this handsomeness.
Not a gorilla hand. And look at that little finger! He looks proud to own a little finger that looks like that.
See. These really are his hands. We panned down. They are well manicured and not covered in thick black hair.
Hey, look, it's a car full of hotness!
Meanwhile, Willy does not look like a natural smoker – but does look smokin' in this chocolate brown suit.
Now Willy's joined Jim and Paris. The testosterone levels in this car must be phenomenal.
Again. Really Peter Graves' hand. Not the hand of a gorilla.
From any angle, Jim is impeccable.
Jim is pretending to be a cute doctor. You'd donate to his institute, wouldn't you?
Jim is cute while on the phone...
This woman wins the Badly Dressed Secretary Award for 1969. What is that in her hair? Some kind of green rope?
'Hello, my name is Jim, and I'll be your impossibly handsome brain doctor for this episode.'
I couldn't resist another cap.
Meanwhile, Barney is a fucking genius. If anyone was going to break into your office using suction cups on your sliding window and build a wall of mirror-glass identical to the original wall, just a few feet out, you'd want it to be Barney. You'd be happy to be duped by him.
Leonard Nimoy is having uncomfortable flashbacks to Spock's Brain.
Paris is being Lester, a down-on-his-luck psychic, looking very low and small in that chair. Jim, as the doctor, talks to him as if he's very slightly stupid.
'Oh my god, I thought I'd never have to do the Spock's Brain thing again. Why, god, why?'
Leonard Nimoy does very well as a very hesitant, humble working class delivery truck driver. 'A delivery boy,' the bad guy dismisses him, and Jim treats him rather like a child.
Oh my god, it's the Faces of Pain again!
'M... M... M... M...' (He's pretending to be receiving a message.)
Arrrgghhh, Face of Pain!
This may be what he looks like when he's very, very constipated.
Now, I quite like this expression, the suck-in of air through the teeth.
It's a big one! Push, Leonard, push!
Meanwhile, Jim is perfect...
...and Paris is perfectly ruffled. Oh god, that hair...
*excuse me. I'm having a climax.
Sigh. It's all too much for Lester/Paris.
Meanwhile, Barney has the best tiny-powered-drill ever.
He also has a great tiny-saw.
Willy tries to pass himself off as a chemist.
Not looking quite so vulnerable now.
But, oh dear, the bad guy's got a gun...
He looks quite perfect from above, too, just as Jim does. And oh, look at the wonderful 60s-into-70s bedclothes!
Hot. Hot. Hot.
Hello, pretty. His dynamic's changed because now he's being 'possessed' by the criminal in the iron lung.
Hair... Oh, hair.
Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day. I've got a beautiful feeeeeeling, everything's going my way...
Jim is still looking impeccable.
My screen cannot take this much beauty and is about to break.
I don't know. I'm just spinning in circles. It's like having profiteroles on one side and a black cherry cheesecake on the other.
Meanwhile, Barney continues to be a fricking genius. He has to electrify the safe so Paris knows he has to delay.
We're treated to some of the Face of Pain again.
And they try to convince us that Paris has gorilla hands as well as Jim. Good lord, have any of these people ever made a study of the beauty of Leonard Nimoy's hands?
Oh, Barney, you are perfect.
Well, this is just pretty.
And then the eyebrow raise on top of the pretty.
They're about to take Paris somewhere and 'drop him, hard.' But hi-ya! It's karate-Jim to the rescue!
What a team.