That infamous moment when the first Ogron on the left accidentally reveals his MENSA potential to his masters but no-one bats a shiny eyelid.
Yes, this is Day of the Daleks in which our intrepid TARDIS twosome wine, dine and enjoy a ride, while Yates pulls rank, Benton pulls out of a minor skirmish and the Brig pulls his hair out as he defends world peace from humans and aliens alike while, no doubt, also taking in washing and doing a paper round.
Will the Jeep Pronto ever make it to market?
Why do people keep giving the Controller dirty looks? Is it his personal hygiene? Or is it because the only kid he ever charges for his sweets is poverty-stricken Charlie Bucket?
And why are the Daleks wasting resources on their minions’ make-up when their vital attack force wouldn’t fill a football team?
Jim and Martin ponder these questions and try to decide whether this is a red-letter day or 24 hours of ennui.
Listen here for their verdict.
“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.
“You’re liable to wake up Old Nick going that deep!”
And imagine old Nick’s horror when he woke up after a BBC stag do and found that someone had given him a comedy eye-patch and a joke shop scar.
But it’s not just the Brig who’s had an unsympathetic makeover in Inferno‘s alt-right universe. Cuddly Sergeant Benton is now brutal bastard Benton and lovely Liz has adopted a nasty wig and an equally nasty attitude. Professor Stahlman, of course, is equally gittish wherever you find him, but Greg Sutton’s sexist tendencies have been crushed under the fascist jackboot – and he seems even less likely to achieve penetration with this particular Petra.
Throw in some technicians in wolf’s clothing (and Christmas cracker teeth), a soldier shooting himself off a gasometer and lashings of automatic door porn, and we have something of a great big melting pot.
But do Jim and Martin think Inferno burns brightly or does it feel like the end of the world?
Find out here.