"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...

"No complications."

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 in for their verdict.

"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 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.

"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, indeed, 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...