“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“In my presence you are an ant, a termite. Abase yourself, you grovelling insect!”
So once again Sutekh’s arrogance management classes fail to deliver and he’s left in his sub-Saqqaran tomb for a few more centuries, waiting for another gentleman caller.
And he had a lot going for him: a puppet archaeologist, a loyal (if irascible) organist, a low-tech PIN-pincher and some busty yummy mummies.
Laurence is wide-eyed, the Doctor is boggle-eyed and Marcus has eyes like piddle-holes in the snow, while Sarah has her eye on an escape route to 1980 (but not the crappy one).
Why is Sutekh’s cell so well-appointed? Why doesn’t someone push a broom around the priory every now and then? And just who is Eternity’s Cushion Plumper?
Listen to find out if the answers lie in The Pyramids of Mars and what score (hint hint) Jim and Martin give the serial.