“Is that finger loaded?”
A good question because nothing is as it seems in Devesham-on-Oseidon.
The horse-brasses are plastic, the dartboard has a functional bullseye and the ginger beer may not be The Real Thing (but its supply is inexhaustible).
Then there’s Guy Crayford, who has a spacesuit of vacuum-resistant denim, incomplete underpants and an eye-patch which is purely cosmetic.
And, behind the scenes, the horny Kraals are eager to spread their infection and have been using fake UNIT personnel for practice.
But did Jim and Martin find The Android Invasion to be the real McCoy or as phoney as a Devesham publican?
Find out here.
“You’ve got some of it on your hands and you didn’t tell us anything about it. It was very wrong of you, wasn’t it?”
The Doctor makes Barbara feel small with a little ticking off. Fair enough though – she had almost died from the stiffest of upper lips (and a dangerously unbathed ankle).
Eco-whistleblower Arnold Farrow fares even worse with a slug in the chest and a ruined holiday, while his murderer – Mr (D?) Forester – escapes with a burnt aerosol and a bloody nose. But the bloody nosey Hilda and PC Bert save the day.
Ian has a knees-up in a matchbox, Susan shins up a drainpipe and the Doctor’s spirits sink in a basin as the regular cast prove there are no small roles, just small actors.
So did Jim and Martin find that good things come in small packages or that size really does matter?
Listen to find out.
“What is this horrendous place?”
Well, Nyssa, it’s Terminus – a place to which Bor was presumably drawn by nominative determinism.
It’s a drab old hospital where the porters are metal, the doctors are Goths and the burglars are New Romantics.
The Doctor wins a fight, Nyssa loses her skirt and Tegan draws the short straw, what with Turlough staring at her posterior and the extras revealing her upper assets.
Did Olvir train at the Wayne Sleep Combat Academy?
Is the Doctor’s creepy CCTV standard TARDIS issue?
Do the Vanir have enough dog poop bags to last until their next Ocado delivery?
And did Jim and Martin find Terminus to be a real tonic or some used Hydromel?
Find out here…
“The Doctor’s almost as clever as I am.”
Zoe Heriot may be the Krotons’ pet but she must have been expelled from modesty school.
Yes, this is The Krotons, a saga of sub-standard scientists, snaky CCTV spies and shouty fridges from another world.
The Doctor flunks, Jamie fights and Zoe infuriates while the Gonds lack the gonads to take on their reclusive rulers.
Will Beta reveal the secret of transmat to his backward brethren (or is it still at Beta stage)?
From which Brummie enclave of Johannesburg do the Krotons hail?
Will the Doctor’s twanged nipple ever recover?
And do Jim and Martin think the story is the work of High Brains or should it be dispersed?
Find out here.
“I hate conducted tours.”
Dodo single-handedly sows the seeds of the Doctor Who Experience’s eventual demise, way back in 1966.
This month we find ourselves in a land where greedy leaders feather their own nests at the expense of the downtrodden underclass. And it’s much the same in Doctor Who’s The Savages, screened some 52 years ago (badum tish!)
The Doctor is drained, Steven is ordained and Dodo is reined-in on a world where the big city holds no attraction for our clan of outsiders, a bunch of sapped saps with their very own cheeky girl (but mercifully no Lembit Opik).
Who else gets to use the Doctor’s vibrator? Did Jano and his mates manage to video The Daleks’ Master Plan? Who’s producing destructive vapours and shouldn’t their diet be looked at?
And did Jim and Martin find The Savages to be a shot in the arm or an enervating experience?
Tune 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 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.