Now with two pyrokinetic incidents on her record, Jentry is just trying to keep her head down. A school trip to the Alamo offers the chance to try and make amends with her classmates, and Gugu a chance to cater for her classmates, whether Jentry wants her to or not. But those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Or in the case Billy, the tour guide, supernaturally empowered to repeat it. Over and over and over…

This is flat out brilliant. Not just the best episode of the show far but a spectacularly tight piece of contemporary supernatural storytelling. Structurally we get progression for Jentry in all her friendships and moments to shine for Michael, Kit, Stella and Bowen Yang’s Ed the jiangshi. If anyone’s the breakout this episode it’s him, as Ed struggles to become a terrifying social media breakout star. The fact he looks like an adorable 10 year old doesn’t help and Yang, and the script, do a brilliant job of showing the collision between who Ed wants to be and who he is. I did not have ‘Rap break’ on the list of things I expected this episode, but we don’t just get one, it’s an episode highlight! Ed’s newfound confidence coming through in a pinch and providing a vital part of the solution. Kit, Michael and Jentry all provide the other pieces of the puzzle and the show has never felt more like an ensemble. The easy go to here is Buffy’s Scooby Gang and there’s an element of that, but this feels very much its own show, with its own voice.

That voice has some timely things to say. Billy, the tour guide, is obsessed with the idea of history not the reality of it. He’s so entranced by the heroism of the Alamo he can’t see another perspective, and he won’t see that history is always more complex than people think it is. He’s a conservative bigot who’s convinced he’s just a conservative. A shrill, malicious man who uses his terror to make other people afraid so he doesn’t feel so alone and doesn’t care about the truth so much as being allowed to shout down any voice that doesn’t sound like him. Billy using a class of diverse modern kids to puppet his own, historically inaccurate, version of a brutal battle is horrific as much because of its incompetent cruelty and familiarity as it is the undeniable evil.  There are Billys everywhere, now more than ever. Men who think oppression is ‘asking questions’ and look at anyone who doesn’t look like them with hatred and fear. They’re always loud. They’re always frightened. They’re usually cruel and they are always, without exception, wrong. The show fights them the same way we all should, on every front, with subtlety, compassion and grace. And a cannon. This is what all art does, even when people like Billy refuse to see it. Don’t refuse. Don’t be Billy.

Verdict: A brilliantly timely episode of an increasingly great show that deals with massive issues with consummate ease. The first three episodes are good. Honestly, this isn’t just the best one yet, it may be the best one to start with and then work backwards. It really is that good. 10/10

Alasdair Stuart