“Never trust a man with dirty fingernails.”
…Or a face like a Shar Pei’s nether regions.
Especially if he exacerbates London’s rodent problem, takes advantage of young scrubbers and test-drives prototype orgasmatrons.
Yes, this is The Talons of Weng-Chiang – a strange (Robert) Holmesian melodrama where people pop poison pills, ventriloquist dummies are hands-free and Birmingham has cornered the Chinese firearms market.
Leela takes some clothes, the Doctor takes a boat trip, Jago takes fright and Litefoot takes delivery of a surprise hamper, while Chang prestidigitates, Mr Sin recidivates and a mad old crone expectorates.
So do Jim and Martin think this is a superlative specimen of Seventies sci-fi or do they smell a rat?
Find out here.
“Whatever blows can be sucked.”
Not The Creature From The Pit this time but a story which could be said, in American vernacular, both to ‘blow’ and to ‘suck’.
It’s Underworld – a production so maligned that even most of the sets refused to participate. A CSO mother lode in which Minyans are led by Minions, the proletariat dine on the very rock they mine and gravity does precisely whatever the hell it likes.
Meanwhile, Gwyneth Paltrow gets a drastic makeover, Mr Dors takes it lying down and Leela takes a fancy to a bit-part with a Rohypnol ray. Chuck in some deaf-blind guards, hordes of bored extras and some rather louche lift music and it really does feel like we’re descending to rock bottom.
So ‘the quest is the quest’ but will Jim and Martin see Underworld as a golden moment in Who mythology or will they end up feeling fleeced?
Listen in to find out.
“Well now, it seems I have been here before.”
You have: Planet of Evil. Well… only up to a point.
Sure the red-outlined empty creatures from the id are here again but this time they have Tom Baker’s distinctive fizzog. As does the local equivalent of Mount Rushmore (although the DVD cover features someone else entirely, for some reason…).
cheap terrifying invisible monsters are causing a rumble in the jungle again, but this time they’re accompanied by sultry space savage turned stowaway, a shape-throwing shaman whose hat fits like a glove, a chieftain who’s just been Tango’d, and the campest IT support team ever seen. Throw in a computer with more voices than Rob Culshaw and you have one of the most bonkers bouillabaisses of the Baker era.
Martin reveals he’s a Horda hoarder and Jim displays a positively Luddite awareness of current technological thinking, but do they like The Face of Evil? Or do they turn their own, even more reviled countenances away in disgust?
Listen to find out…
“You know, you’re a classic example of the inverse ratio between the size of the mouth and the size of the brain.”
No, the Doctor isn’t addressing your gentle hosts but Martin’s favouritest actor ever is on the receiving end.
It’s The Robots of Death – a tale of unwelcome bike reflectors, irresistible make-up and ludicrous millinery.
The Doctor and his mousy sidekick, Leela, are in a sand miner and in the frame for the mysterious marigold murders. But who’s behind the rubber-gloved death-dealing droids?
The exasperated Uvanov? The bellowing Borg? Surely not tottietastic Toos? Or might the face, voice and trousers of another crew member put him under suspicion? Just maybe?
Listen in to hear if Jim and Martin can get to the sub-stratum of this miner problem.
“I sense the vicious doctrine of egalitarianism.”
Not our words, the words of financially-motivated, fish-blooded fungus, The Collector.
One of The Sun Makers, this blob of seaweed with ideas above its station loves a healthy balance sheet and an unhealthy executionee but meets his match when the 4th Doctor, Leela and K9 visit plutocratic Pluto.
It’s a miserable world of wooden tables, cardboard control panels, unappetising curries and clown’s-pocket-sized credit cards.
The Doctor moos like a cow, Leela fights like a wildcat and K9 acts like a dog – much to Martin’s incandescent rage.
But is the story as saleable as a tray of hot cakes or a bucket of cold sick?
Listen and find out.
“The age of man is over, Doctor. The age of the virus has begun.”
Oh dear. Time to run this file through McAfee then?
No. Fret Not. These words are spoken by a giant prawn to a Time Lord, just after exiting his body through his tear duct. Yes, this can only be Tom Baker’s bonkers brain-centric epic, The Invisible Enemy.
Wherein the Doctor and Leela, in reduced circumstances, wander about inside the Gallifreyan’s brain, hotly pursued by a hairy-eyed Hitler. Signs are spelt orl rong, a certain metal dog makes his debut as a violent virologist and a behemoth of a bottom-feeder gets pushed around on a skateboard, presumably in search of a suitably large barbecue upon which to end his days.
Now where did I put that Thousand Island dressing…?
Get it here!