"Well thank you, Brigadier! But do you think that for once in your life you could manage to arrive before the nick of time?"

I'd leave it another half hour next time if I was you, Brig.

Yes, the third Doctor is being as pleasant as a fart in a spacesuit again, this time in The Mind of Evil - a six-part saga of surprised screws, conniving cons, a bucket of evil and 1971's Cigar Smoker of the Year.

The Doctor crosses his eyes, the Master mesmerises with his eyes and Jo chucks hot tea into an inmate's eyes - all part of a day's work for UNIT, a small organisation tasked with running peace conferences, escorting missiles, protecting the Earth and, no doubt, taking in washing.

But is Chin Lee really the only 'dolly' Chinese girl in Europe? Why is the Master menaced by a coke float? And is any swarfega tagliatelle ever really complete without a sun-dried glass eye?

Listen in to hear the answers to none of these questions.

"It's not exactly dull travelling with the Doctor."

Not normally, Tegan. Not normally...

But this is the season 19 closer, Time-Flight, in which the Doctor seems to be under heavy sedation, OmNyssia knows all the answers, Tegan remains an air hostess (not that she ever hints at this) and Adric is still dead (mercifully).

The Master is at large too, coercing a plane-full of extras into caressing an inner sanctum, wherein lies a battery crammed full of blokes and an orang-utan's family jewels. He also finds time to co-ordinate a platoon of turd men, all while nursing a projectile cold.

But which passenger is Victor Foxtrot? Why is Concorde's progress monitored from a broom cupboard? And why on (prehistoric) Earth is the Master cosplaying as the last Widow Twankey in the job centre, even when he's on his Jack Jones?

Listen in to hear Jim, Martin and special guest Ian Atkins pick through the wreckage.

"Usually I only entertain friends in the TARDIS."

Everyone off to the tinselled Type 40 then for some serious wassailing! Like all the best parties, we'll no doubt end up clustered around the food machine.

Yes, it's our snow-capped Christmas 2015 edition in which Jim and Martin cast their occuloid trackers over the 1975 Tom Baker space epic (Forbidden) Planet of Evil and then appraise - but not unanimously praise - the last four episodes of 2015's Series 9, all under the influence of listener-brewed ale!

Many questions arise...

How much chest-hair should Morestran men of a certain age be revealing? Is a visit to Blackpool really that scary? And did Clara's 479th tear-stained death leave the lads' eyes as red as Sorenson's?

Listen and find out!

"Is this how time normally passes? Really slowly and in the right order?"

No, not a comment from one of our long-suffering listeners but one of the many amusing lines from Vincent and the Doctor, in which the Doctor tilts at wind, Amy is a typical Brit abroad (either shouting at or chatting up the locals) and Alan Van Gogh puts his paintings to a variety of (un)sanitary uses.

Our heroes dodge marauding locals and their bouncing bottoms, skewer a catering-sized invisible chicken and endure both bill stickers and Bill Nighy.

But is the episode high art or low-brow?

Listen to find out what card-carrying philistines Jim and Martin make of it.

"Okay. Not sure but really, really hoping... pants?"

No, not your hosts feeling their presents on Christmas morning but the ludicrously-named Laurence Nightingale in the much-lauded Blink - a tale of kinetic statues, exploding hens, dumbfounding DVD extras and a pro-celebrity wedding.

And it prompts a number of burning questions...

Is it really possible to be unsure of your underwear status?

Is Martin hinting that he lives in a house called Easter Debenhams?

And can people stop saying 'timey-wimey'? Please?

So did the Weeping Angels command Jim and Martin's full attention? Or did our intrepid podcasters struggle to keep their eyes open?

Find out here.

"This is called The Bootstrap Paradox. Google it."

So now we have to do some homework before settling down to our favourite programme?

Maybe not, as we get an explanation of what's going to happen before (and after) we watch it happen in Before the Flood. Oh for the simpler if more claustrophobic pleasures to be found Under The Lake.

And our pre-titles primer also involves the fourth wall of the TARDIS being demolished and the Doctor turning his amp up to 11 (again).

So Jim and Martin marshal together their views on what turned out to be very much a game of two halves - and even manage to do so without uttering the dreaded 't-w' word.

And the lads close with a decision of which Tegan's Aunt Vanessa would have been proud.

Uncover (some of) the mystery here.

"Supreme Dalek... your sewers are revolting!"

B'dum tish! He's here all week, laydeez 'n' gen'lemen... For the next ten weeks, in fact.

Yes, the Doctor's back on our screens and straight into in a touching but mutually mendacious bromance with Ole One-Eye (or is that Three-Eyes now?)

Davros weeps, the Doctor shreds, Missy larks about and Clara has a communication breakdown, albeit in familiar surroundings. And Snake Face has a roller skate and segway race... with himself(s).

But what's in the Doctor's confession dial? Why does Missy want the Doctor to live? And just what is the elephant in the 12th century arena?

Jim and Martin bang on about it all right here...

"That would have created what I believe is called 'consumer resistance'."

True dat, Davros. Much as many people would like to get rid of the occasional relative, eating them rarely presents itself as a viable option.

A Marxist stand-up masquerading as a crap Dee-Jay is also likely to put off customers (even the comatose ones), while melting mutants, hybridised heads and flying Kaled fingers might even prompt punters to look elsewhere than Tranquil Repose for their funerary needs.

Yep, this is Revelation of the Daleks wherein Davros is nought but a head in a tank, Jobel is a spam-head under a rug, Orcini has a tin leg, Tasembeker thinks with her knuckles and good old Lilt communicates with his.

But do Jim and Martin find this story irresistible? Or would they prefer a steaming plateful of The Great Healer's patented (but 'orrible) 'I can't believe it's not Quorn' (TM)?

Find out here!

"Let's hope the piano knows it."

Merely false modesty from virtuoso ivory ticklers Steven "Regret" Taylor and Dodo "Dodo" Chaplet as we soon discover in the horse-flop flecked epic, The Gunfighters.

The Doctor ("Caligari") has a busted tooth extracted but that ain't the only malfunctioning thing coming out of anyone's mouths in this one... no siree! For accents shuttle back and forth across the Atlantic like speeding bullets, often more Tottenham than Tombstone.

But can our Doc and his fellow "thesbians" survive the crossfire between the more whiskery (whiskey-ery?) Doc and the Clantons?

Is Charlie the Barman related to Ghostlight's Nimrod?

And is it possible to have a song entirely bleached from one's mind? And, if so, where does Jim sign?

So stop right there stranger an' take a listen to this here podcast to find out the answers. To some other questions.

NB: Our thanks to Keeper1st on YouTube for the basis of the accompaniment for the song at the top of the episode. No thanks whatsoever to Jim for the "singing" though.

"Dross and baubles!"

A three-word review of The Pirate Planet by the salty cyborg himself?

Perhaps. Not that there's much in the way of baubles, except for a compact and bijou planet made entirely from sweetie wrappers.

But there are some monkish mentalists who need a decent kip, a dangerously incontinent tin budgie and a heaving metropolis of eight souls (or eleven if you include the cosmos's crappiest granddad, his doe-eyed granddaughter and her trigger-happy intended).

Does some semblance of an intellect lie behind the Pirate Captain's relentless ranting? What's his kinky nurse-patient role-play all about? And could his garrison of gimp guards even hit a cow's arse with a banjo?

Listen in as Jim and Martin ponder these questions while also wondering if walking the plank might be preferable to sitting through this again.