“Let’s make this baby fly!”
Said the uncool and un-Welsh Welsh rock ‘n’ roller Billy, who refrains (perhaps disappointingly) from drop-kicking the Chimeron child over the Shangri-La camp’s Olympic size swimming pool.
Yes, it’s time to take a look at the distinctly odd Delta and the Bannermen, a tale of a baffling bee-keeper, unnecessary Americans, a shot-down stand-up and life-size plastic soldiers with lockjaw.
When will Ray realise that she’s barking up the wrong tree? When will Billy realise he’s sniffing around the wrong species? Will the Bannermen have a whip round to get Gavrok a barbecue? And can the Flying Pickets achieve further chart success now their leader has been reduced to smoking footwear?
Don’t expect to find the answers here as Jim and Martin struggle to decide whether to mark the story hi-de-high or hi-de-low.
“You have returned to us, Doctor. Your travels are over.”
But thankfully not forever. It was, still, a long way from being all over.
So Jim and Martin stagger to their century milestone with their biggest story yet, The War Games.
It’s an epic tale of trials, tribulations, heavily corrected (and impaired) vision, and a Very. Stupid. Voice.
The Doctor plays with fridge magnets, Jamie plays the fool, Zoe plays Villa like a violin and the War Lord plays with his real live toy soldiers – and gets a Paddington stare for his trouble.
Romans gawp and mince, wigs wander almost as far as the accents, and the scenery is chewed up, gargled and spat out – even when it’s as wobbly as a Quark under enemy fire.
So do Jim and Martin think this is a worthy end for a very worthy Doctor? Or was it ten parts of terrible tedium?
Listen in to find out.
“A delightfully unexpected afternoon.”
Well it won’t take up much of your afternoon and there’s very little that’s unexpected here.
For this is Black Orchid – a ripping yarn of bronchial brothers, lippy bookworms, smutty absentees and a child bride who’s passed around like a gold ball at a Telosian rugby match.
The Doctor plays the clown, Tegan cuts a rug, Nyssa finds her double and Adric eats double his body weight in finger food.
But who is the tweed-trousered killer who’s friends with an Amazonian Indian?
Could he possibly have any connection with Charles “not one of the Worcester Woosters” Cranleigh whose brother disappeared on an Amazonian expedition?
And who is the piratical prat with the badge for mathematical excellence?
Listen to find out…
“I don’t work for anybody. I’m just having fun.”
Not so much fun for the cold turkeys, the cattle-prodded Mandrels and the eviscerated punters on the good ship Empress though.
Yes, this is Nightmare of Eden and ‘nightmare’ could be seen as an apposite epithet by the crew and viewer alike. It’s a heady cocktail of spiked drinks, unfortunate zips and insurance policy wordings.
K9 needs some obedience classes, the Doctor shrieks about his extremities and Romana gets a nasty love bite (but not as nasty as her dress), while Tryst accentuates the silliness, Fisk makes it uniformly worse and Rigg turns on, tunes in and drops out.
So did Jim and Martin find the story as first class as the toilet facilities or were they glad when the nightmare was over?
Find out here.
“I am usually referred to as the Master.”
Or some very slight variation thereof.
Terror of the Autons is a story where a bloomin’ cockernee is masquerading as an Italian, a Time Lord as an astral Mr Benn, Autons as an army of Frank Sidebottoms, and the man himself as BT’s most sackable employee. Yet the Master can’t muster the energy to think up an even vaguely misdirecting pseudonym.
Plenty of imagination elsewhere though with unfriendly neighbourhood Bobbies, dolls that are a bit too clingy, armchairs that give you a hug, a phone you can really get tied up on and gift daffs you really shouldn’t look in the mouth.
Can the grumpy Doctor, scatty Jo, and a Maxi full of UNIT defeat the Master and the Nestene Unconvincingness?
And did Jim and Martin find all this plastic fantastic or as flat as Old Ma Farrel’s CSO kitchen?
Find out here.
“I’m not a mountain goat and I prefer walking to any day. And I hate climbing.”
If you think Steven Moffat era Doctor Who taxes the mind, imagine being part of the 1965 audience and having to decode anagrams of the scripted lines on the fly.
And the mind is boggled in many other ways by The Time Meddler. How can an 11th Century monk have a wristwatch, electric stove and gramophone? Has the BBC lost the plot? Has Dennis Spooner been hot-spooning? Or perhaps the pee-drenched padre is to blame and thus a legitimate target of the (extremely) long arm of Doctor Tickle.
Our eponymous hero and visiting Vikings alike get merry on mead from Hur indoors, while Vicki suffers sexism from Steven, the new companion who likes to attack first and ask (too many) questions later. And then not believe any of the answers.
Will the groat ever drop for Steven? Will he find the bovine astronaut he seeks? What do you do if your TARDIS is smaller on the inside? Whose beard is camping out on Eldred’s face?
And did Jim and Martin delight in this first ever pseudo-historical or do they disapprove of all this time meddling?
Find out here.
“It’s getting rather exciting, isn’t it?”
Well mileage may vary and opinions certainly differ a wee bit between your intrepid hosts on this one.
For it is The Stones of Blood, a tale of vampiric slabs, a reclusive mistress-villain with a morbid fear of lemon sherbets and the latest mismatched cop duo – Android and Wirrn.
The Doctor wears a barrister’s wig, Romana sports a chav cap and Vivien Fay shows off her deep silver tan. Professor Rumford forgets her words (and her bra) but remembers her truncheon, and K9 spills his guts while being goosed by a jack plug.
The local druids summon a wrinkly comedy star, a camping couple suffer post-coital depression, and two clouds of bling argue the toss while the Doctor doesn’t appear to give one.
So did the story stir the blood of Jim and Martin or leave them stony faced?
Listen to find out.
NB: You’ll notice that Jim gets a story title wrong – twice. Rest assured that he has been taken away and destroyed in a controlled explosion.