ACT TWO – DEVOLUTION OF THE DUSTBINS
Parte the Third
The revelation of the Bistdun is underminded ever-so-slightly as the Doctor (who has Officially Stopped Giving A Damn) fiddles with his Hatichami Jog Person and the strains of "Star Trekkin'" blares out across the lab and Dustbin Raph and Dustbin Don recognize the intruder right away since they didn’t stupidly surrender their Time Lord detectors for unexplained reasons.
"Hello," says the Doctor. "Surprise. Boo. Et cetera."
"DUDE... DARE I ASK?" sighs Mike.
"Doctor," hisses Leo. "Been a while. You’re gonna wish you never reentered our lives."
"Oh, way ahead of you there," the Doctor says, eyeing the ridiculous monster. "I would like to say what a coincidence, our meeting like this. except I think we’ve gone beyond coincidence. I think you and I are bound together until the ends of time and beyond by ratings share."
"WAS IT MY IMAGINATION OR DID WE SKIP THE BIT WHERE HE’S THE ENEMY OF THE DUSTBINS AND MUST BE EXTERMINATED?" snaps Dustbin Raph.
"No. Let the Doctor see the extent of his failure," sneers Leo.
"Mmm. Hang on, what the hell are you lot doing in 1987 anyway?"
"The Cult of Fargo escaped your slaughter," sneers Leo, "via emergency temporal shift! It may have bled all our power cells and left us unable to conquer the whole world but we still survived! Behold the future of the Dustbins in my new action-figure-friendly shape!"
"Oh, you’re something NEW, I’ll give you that. A new form of Dustbin. How does it feel? You tell me. Go on. You can talk to me, Dustbin Leo. It IS Dustbin Leo, isn’t it? That’s your name? You’ve got a name and a mind of your own. Tell me what you’re thinking right now. Tell me how beautiful it feels. You know, I’ve been thinking about turning human myself, actually. What does it feel like?"
"Kind of tingly," Leo shrugs. "I feel humanity. I feel everything we wanted from the Welsh – ambition, racial hatred, aggression and an enormous brown lizard! Such a genius for surrealism, the Welsh! Look at the Welsh, Doctor! Ravagers of their own sheep, killers of their own accent, obsessive and compulsive in equal measure! At heart, this species is so very... Dustbin."
The Doctor doesn’t bother to stifle a yawn. "Whatever. So, what exactly have you actually ACHIEVED with this experiment, then? Huh? Not a lot! Cause I can show you what you’re missing with this thing. Simple little radio."
"BIG DEAL," Dustbin Don grunts. "IT PLAYS MUSIC. SO FREAKING WHAT?"
"YEAH, TIME LORD, WHAT THE HELL ARE WE MISSING?"
The Doctor shrugs. "The obvious?" So saying, he zaps the Hatichami Jog Person and the volume turns up to eleven and Leo is polaxed by the chorus "We come in peace! Shoot to kill!" which is so ironic it could clog your arteries.
Thinking quickly, Dustbin Don shoots the Hatichami Jog Person and blows it to smithereens... only to discover in all the ruckus that the Doctor has escaped with Martha, Frank and indeed all the prisoners they were going to prep for hybridization.
"MAN, WE NEVER GET A BREAK!" rages Dustbin Raph. "IF IT ISN’T ONE THING, IT’S ANOTHER!"
"YOU OK, LEO?" asks Dustbin Raph.
"Pop music," Leo murmurs. "Pop music like no other Dustbin has felt since the 1960s! Oh, but it felt GLORIOUS!"
The three remaining Dustbins stare at him.
"OKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY," Dustbin Don says after a pause. "THE DOCTOR’S ESCAPED, BELIEVE IT OR NOT."
"What do you want from me? An invitation? After them!"
Dustbins Raph and Don hurtle off into the sewers, followed by the Weevil army who haven’t done a damn thing to justify their presence in the story so far, leaving Leo to toy with the remains of the now-broken Hatichami Jog Person and hum along with the tune.
The Doctor leads the fleeing captives, meet up with Tallulah and prepare to escape as, with the sound of the Dick Barton theme being sung drunkenly through a ring modulator, the Dustbins pursue in a strange "Sir Dustbin Chicken Ceaser to the Slotties" scene. Truly, in a world gone mad who will stop the mutant Dustbins from enslaving humanity with their porcine plan? Who is there to stand up for all that is good and can be found in bins near Tesco? Yes, it’s the often alarming adventures of Doctor Who!
The captives manage to escape above ground again and the Dustbins are left to discuss their doubts about their new leader. "OK, DONNY. TELL ME I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS OUR FEARLESS LEADER’S PLAN STINKS WORSE THAN THIS SEWER?"
"RAPH, DUDE, WE WERE CREATED TO FOLLOW LEO!"
"AND YOU THINK THAT FREAK IS STILL LEO?"
"JEEZ... WHEN YOU PUT IT LIKE THAT..."
With all the extras having fled between scenes, the Doctor, Martha, Frank and Tallulah wander aimlessly around Cardiff as the showgirl generally bitches about everything. "Oh it was stinking down there, not to mention the cold. Now I get bracken between my toes and what is with the insects? Don’t they sleep? Oh, and there’s mud! I got mud all over my feet! stupid mud on my stupid! Not to mention my boyfriend got turned into a pig! LIFE IS SHIT!"
"Amen, sweetheart!" says the Doctor, still feeling suicidal.
"Oh, can you two drama queens just give it a rest?" demands Martha. "Look, Doctor, is Laszlo stuck like that?" she asks and gets a non-committal shrug in response.
"Oh tell me you can help!" pleads Tallulah. "You’re a clever kind of guy! You’re a doctor! mom’s always said, marry a doctor or a lawyer and you’re made for life – just my luck, I finally find a doctor and he’s in to showtunes!"
"Jings, are you implying something?!"
"But there’s gotta be something we can do for Laszlo! He can’t just stay like a pig for his whole life? There’s gotta be something! No? Well, there you go. Just my luck. "
"Well, now we’ve sorted that out, can those Dustbin things follow us out of the sewer?" demands Frank with his typical ruthlessness.
"Who cares?" the Doctor shrugs. "They’re not powerful enough to take on a whole city, so they’ll probably just skulk around in the sewers some more. Apart from, you know, them needing people for their genetic experiments and since we left they need replacements."
"They’ll be going after the Yuppie Shanty Town!" Martha deduces. "The one we’re right next to. The one we should probably leave right away."
"Got any more bad news?" Tallulah demands, and immediately the group are surrounded by the down-and-out yuppies wielding shotguns. "It’s me, I’m a jinx," the showgirl sighs.
Thinking quickly, and ignoring the Doctor’s shouts of "MAKE MY DAY YOU WELSH PARASITES!", Martha uses Frank as a human shield. The former traders do not fire on their own, and Solomon arrives in awe and hastily calls off the sentries.
"Frank, huh," says the town sheriff trying to sound pleased. "Is that Frank? Well, um, it’s good to see you. I thought you were lost, which was why I left you for dead. But, er, it’s good for you to bring him home, Doctor."
"I’d save the unconvincing gratitude, Solomon," the suicidal Time Lord growls. "It’s not all good news. The bastards who created the Weevils are coming after the shanty town. They want your men folk, and your women folk and indeed all folk for breeding purposes. And that’s not as fun as it may sound. They’re splicing themselves into human bodies and this commune of yours is perfect for them."
"My god! We gotta get out of here!" Solomon wails.
"Hah! Too late! And there’s nowhere for you to go, anyway!" the Doctor laughs cruelly. "We’re all going to die! Dustbins are bad enough at any time but right now they’re having problems at home – and that makes them more dangerous than ever!"
On cue, Weevils attack the shanty town from all sides. Worse, it becomes apparent this ragtag bunch of real estate agents and futures traders simply don’t know how to fire the weapons they have and all the down and outs are driven into the middle of the park.
"What’s REALLY funny," the Doctor laughs hysterically, "is that these freaks are just the foot soldiers!"
The familiar forms of Dustbin Don and Dustbin Raph swoop out of the sky towards them and open fire, shouting "THE FLYING WHATZIT BROTHERS STRIKE!" as, back in the basement, Leo and Dustbin Mike watch things unfold via RaphCam.
The settlement is soon blasted apart and the fugitives surrounded by explosions. "READY TO GIVE UP YET, PUNY HUMANS?!" challenges Dustbin Raph. "AND, OH LOOK, WE FOUND A CERTAIN CHIC GEEK!"
In desperation, Solomon strides forward. "I’ve never met a client I couldn’t sweet-talk! I’m told that I’m addressin’ the Dustbins, is that right?"
Solomon launches into a spiel about Dustbins and Humans all the same underneath and God’s universe is a thousand times the size he thought it was which both terrifies him right down to the bone and gives him hope that if they combine forces, both species can make a better tomorrow... but he doesn’t get half way through his speech before Dustbin Raph gets very, very bored and shoots him through the head.
"Hey, I was listening to that!" Leo complains as Dustbin Mike gives him a rather odd look.
Reminded by this mindless slaughter of his own self-destructive urges, the Doctor runs forward and starts jumping up and down, waving his hands in the air and screaming. "All right, so it’s MY turn! Then kill me! Kill me if it’ll stop you attacking these people! Hell, just kill me ANYWAY! GIVE ME THE LIBERTY OF DEATH!"
"AW, I AM SO GOING TO ENJOY THIS!" Dustbin Raph replies, taking aim. "I’M GONNA BE THE DESTROYER OF OUR GREATEST ENEMY! I’LL NEVER HAVE TO BUY MY OWN DRINKS EVER AGAIN!!"
"THEN DO IT!!!" screams the Doctor insanely, beating his fists on his chest. "DO IT! JUST DO IT! DO IT!"
"Raph!" Leo calls. "I don’t like this. I think it could be a trick."
"I’LL TAKE MY CHANCES!" Dustbin Raph retorts.
"LEO’S RIGHT," Dustbin Don. "HE’S OBVIOUSLY UP TO SOMETHING."
"OF COURSE HE’S UP TO SOMETHING, DON, HE’S THE DOCTOR! HE’S ALWAYS UP TO SOMETHING! BUT I’M GONNA HAVE TOO MUCH FUN SHOOTING HIM TO CARE ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES!"
"Raph, are you in charge?" calls Leo. "A clue: no. I have decided the Doctor must live and you will obey me. Now bring him here before I pop a cap into your red-metalert ass!"
"OH I AM SO GOING TO GET YOU BACK FOR THIS, LEO," growls Dustbin Raph. "OK, DOC, YOU’RE GOING TO FOLLOW US, COMPREHENDÉ?"
"No extermination?" asks the Doctor, put out. "This just plain sucks!"
Sulking, he strides off after the flying Dustbins, leaving Martha, Tallulah and Frank abandoned in a forgotten plot thread with the microwaved corpse of a main speaking character.
"Son of a bitch!" Martha mutters as he goes.
A quick jump-cut later and the Doctor is escorted into the sub-basement where Leo and Dustbin Mike are waiting. "SO," asks Dustbin Mike awkwardly after a pause. "WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT CUTE BLONDE WITH THE HORSE? DID SHE, LIKE, DUMP YOU OR WHAT?"
"Those people were defenseless!" the Doctor rants. "You only wanted me, but no, that wasn’t enough for you! You had to start killing EVERYONE ELSE! Cause that’s the only thing a Dustbin’s good for! Jings, you can’t even keep THIS place tidy!"
"Look, if you want us to kill you, we will. But we want something in exchange for ending your miserable life, deal?"
The Doctor stares at the tentacled monstrosity. "Is it me or are you just becoming a little bit more... camp?"
"You are the last of your kind – give or take - and now I am the first of mine – give or take. And we need your help. When we first got ourselves stranded in this embarrassing decade, we tried everything to start again. We tried growing new Dustbin embryos from Calamari and one of Dustbin Mike’s old sneezes, but their flesh was too weak and we flushed them down the lav."
"Eww," the Doctor grimaces. "I licked one of those!"
"So we decided instead to use the greatest resource Wales has to have: Unemployed Welshmen! So we collected them like baseball cards, stole them for our own purpose, wiped their minds and emptied their souls to be filled with new, Dustbin ideas."
At this point, Leo does a twirl and points out the hundreds of human bodies wired up to electrodes that has been in a hitherto-unseen corner of the room, the latest being the extra played by Ricky Gervais.
"More than a thousand shells ready to be converted into the new Bistdun race! But to do that, we’re going to need a hell of a lot of power to revive these bodies and fill them with my own DNA as a genetic template. Don, open the conductor plan."
"UM, LEO, SERIOUSLY, WE’RE TELLING ALL OUR PLANS TO OUR MORTAL ENEMY HERE. THAT DOES NOT STRIKE ME AS A GOOD MOVE."
"FINE. BITCH," mutters Dustbin Don and activates a PowerPoint presentation involving suns, explosions and the Electro Theatre which contains an energy conversion conductor.
"Jings," the Doctor sighs. "ANOTHER fucking transmitter."
"Tonight, the greatest solar flare for a thousand years will hit the Earth. Which is kind of awkward as it means the sun’s on the wrong side of the planet, and most of the radiation will be absorbed before we can get it. But the RKO antennae on stage will draw out all the gamma radiation from the spectrum, and wake up the army simultaneously as mutating them. But we need YOUR genius to stop the new Dustbins being psychotically obsessive about cleaning."
The Doctor is baffled. "Removing slobbiness makes you stronger, that’s what your creator thought all those years ago."
"Oh, what the hell did that loonbag know?" Leo retorts. "He was a total nutcase, which is why the Dustbins are so screwed up. We must return to the flesh, the heart and the reluctance to recycle! Our supreme tidiness isn’t a strength, it’s a weakness!"
"SORRY TO INTERRUPT YOU THERE, LEO, BUT THAT IS ABSOLUTE BOLLOCKS!" Dustbin Raph argues. "HOW IN THE NAME OF ALL DULL ACCOUNTANCY CAN MAKING US LESS-THAN-SUPREME BE A GOOD THING?!"
"YEAH," Dustbin Don agrees. "WE’RE CREATED TO CLEAN UP THIS COSMOS! THAT’S OUR PURPOSE! THE THING THAT KEEPS US GOING! IF WE STOP WE’LL ALL REGRET IT! MAYBE NOT TODAY, MAYBE NOT TOMORROW – BUT SOON! AND FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY!"
"DON’T LIKE THE SOUND OF WHERE THIS IS GOING LEO," Dustbin Mike adds.
"Are ANY of you guys paying attention?!" Leo snaps. "We’re NOT supreme! Not any more! Where has our quest for supremacy and cleanliness led us? Huh? To this! Hiding in the sewers on a primitive world in fucking CARDIFF of all places! Just four of us left! If we do not change now and just keep doing the same old crap in the vague hope it’ll work, we’re going to go extinct! UNDERSTAND?! Now humans are the great survivors, they don’t get wiped out in a Temporal Difference of Opinion like we do. We NEED that ability!"
"So," the Doctor says when he’s allowed to get a word in edgeways, "you want to change everything that makes a Dustbin a Dustbin as defined by the Terry Nation Estate?"
"Yeah. But I need your help. Your knowledge of lashing up pseudo-scientific crap to save the day is even greater than ours. And you’ve gotta change too, Doc," Leo continues. "You got to put this whole prejudice 'Dustbins-killed-my-species' crap behind you and look to the future. A future where the Bistduns are no longer an enemy, but just a zany ethnic minority comic relief neighbor!"
"A future without killing people who make messes?"
"Well, there might be some of that. But it wouldn’t go overboard. We’re talking Exxon spills rather than leaving the wheelie bins out, you know what I’m saying? There’s got to be a little give and take here, yo? If you don’t help me, NOTHING will change."
The Doctor looks doubtfully at the remaining red, purple and orange Dustbins hovering around them. "Jings, Leo, I don’t honestly think this lot are gonna let you do it."
"I am their leader," Leo says simply. "I command, they obey. Dustbins always follow orders."
"SAVE IT, LEO!" roars Dustbin Raph. "I AIN’T IN THE MOOD! IN FACT, I’VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH HUMANOIDS AND CARDIFF SO HOW ABOUT YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP? LIKE NOW!"
"What is your problem, Raph?!" demands Leo.
"YOU THINK I’M A PROBLEM?!" the red Dustbin retorts. "JUST YOU WAIT UNTIL YOU TRY AND ORDER US AROUND, NOW THAT IS A PROBLEM! BRING IT ON, FREAK! WEEVILS! SEIZE THAT ABOMINATION!"
"You treacherous sons of bitches!" Leo exclaims as the Weevils apprehend them both (including Laszlo who takes the Doctor – remember Laszlo? Thought not.)
"I MAY NOT BE AS SUAVE AND SOPHISTICATED AS YOU, BIPED, BUT IF YOU DON’T QUIT BEING SUCH A GODDAMNED PUSSY I’M GOING TO TIDY YOUR STUPID TWO-LEGGED BUTT!" Dustbin Raph rages. "THESE ZOMBIES ARE GOING TO BE PROPER BRAINWASHED DUSTBIN SLAVES, NOT FREAKS LIKE YOU!"
"YEAH, LEO, YOUR BRAIN’S TURNED TO BROCCOLI," adds Dustbin Mike.
"IT’S TIME WE GOT BACK ON TRACK INSTEAD OF FUSING PIGS AND HUMANS TOGETHER FOR NO REAL REASON WHATSOEVER," Dustbin Don agrees.
A klaxon wails as the solar flares begin, and the countdown to the gamma strike begins. The three Dustbins turn to face the Doctor and aim their neutralizing gun-sticks at him.
"About time!" the Doctor sighs in relief...
Parte the Fourth
"DON’T EXTERMINATE HIM, RAPH," interrupts Dustbin Don. "LEAVE SOME FOR ME! I NEVER GET A PIECE OF THE CARNAGE! I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO ZAP A SINGLE CYBERMAN LAST TIME!"
In the domestic argument, Laszlo grabs the Doctor and they run to the lift and escape, despite the Time Lord’s protests that he’s trying to get killed by his mortal enemies here!
"THE DOCTOR’S ESCAPING! WEEVILS! GET AFTER HIM!" rants Dustbin Raph.
"SHOULDN’T WE JUST FLY AFTER HIM?" asks Dustbin Mike.
"THE CLOCK IS TICKING, MIKE! WE NEED TO PLUG ME INTO THE MILITARY STRATEGIC BATTLE COMPUTER THINGAMAJIG! I’M GOING TO BE THE BOSS AROUND HERE FROM NOW ON!"
"This is mutiny, you limp-tendrilled asshole!" Leo shouts.
"AND WHAT A BANG-UP JOB YOU’VE DONE SO FAR, LEO!" Raph retorts, connecting himself to countless wires and cables to the reel-to-reel computer banks.
"Then what happens to me now? You gonna kill me?" "WELL, WE COULD ALWAYS STRIP YOUR FLESH, RECLAIM THE DUSTBIN DNA AND USE YOU FOR BREEDING," Dustbin Don suggests. "TRUST ME, IT’LL DO YOU THE WORLD OF GOOD. WE WERE KIND OF WORRIED ABOUT YOUR LACK OF A GIRLFRIEND..."
Meanwhile, the Doctor and Laszlo arrive on the stage of the Electro as the theatre fills with punters eagerly awaiting the Broadway premiere of "The Dance of the Dustbins Funtime Extravaganza!" – little realizing the play is nothing more than a front so no one notices the prelude to the devastation of all mankind.
The Doctor and Laszlo are stuned to find Martha, Tallulah and Frank in the audience. At firs the Doctor assumes that the companions have somehow arrived seeking out the energy conductor of the Dustbins, but they all gave up on defeating aliens when the Doctor kept trying to get himself killed. Instead, Martha and Tallulah are more interesting in getting a good seat and discussing boys and how messed up their respective partners are.
Realizing he’s going to have to sort out the alien invasion on his suicidal lonesome, the Doctor tells Laszlo to hold off the Weevils while he climbs the RKO tower to detach the Dustbinanium panels with his sonic screwdriver and good old fashioned elbow grease.
Taking suggestions shouted out by the audience, Laszlo attaches a metal rod from the tower to the trap door in the middle of the stage in the hope the imminent lightening strike will still fill the theatre with electricity and, if this can be channeled into the Weevils the pig slaves will be electrocuted.
"Well, that’s what I’D do in that situation," Martha shrugs.
The Weevils reach behind stage, thunder rumbles and the Doctor succeeds in removing one of the panels but drops the sonic screwdriver – much the amusement of the audience. "Ah, piss off!" he shouts at them, trying in vain to rip the remaining two panels by hand but realizes it is too late. "At least this way I can go out with a bang," he sighs, lurching forward and grabbing the radio mast in his hands.
"SEE YOU IN HELL, ROSE TYLER!" he screams before lightening hits and the electricity courses through his body, simultaneously killing all the Weevils and transmitting Dustbin DNA into the new army which awakes in a suitable Frankenstein homage.
As for the Doctor, the audience are depressed as he falls off the RKO tower barely singed. Martha points out this is completely accurate as the blindingly hot lightning only lasts a millisecond – long enough to burn out someone’s nervous system but not set clothes on fire.
But for those of you rabid Matt Smith fans, don’t get too excited, he doesn’t regenerate just yet.
In the sub-basement, Dustbins Raph, Mike and Don are all fully-recharged from the excess energy from the lightning strike and the deadly cleaning machines of 05 yore! The new army, lead by that particular extra from episode one who is played by Ricky Gervais arm themselves with Tommy Guns modified to become Dustbin Anti-Dust Fluid Neutralizing Canons.
"NOW OUR VACATION REALLY BEGINS!" booms Dustbin Raph. "FIRST WE TAKE CARDIFF, THEN MANHATTEN AND THEN BERLIN! TODAY WALES, TOMORROW THE WORLD! HAH – YOU EVER GET POSITIVE ACTION LIKE THIS FROM YOU, LEO?"
"Drop dead, Raph," the chained up Leo bitches.
"LET’S HEAD OUT THEN," Dustbin Mike suggests. "WANNA GO FOR A WALK, LEO? I MEAN, WE CAN’T LEAVE YOU BEHIND HERE TO FOUL THE PLACE UP LIKE A MESSY HUMAN? WOULD YOU LIKE THAT? WOULD YOU? YES YOU WOULD!"
"Don’t patronize me!"
"JUST UNTIL WE RESTORE YOU TO YOUR FORMER BEAUTY BRO," Dustbin Don explains as it unleashes a disturbing collection of leather restraints and chains to place around the resistant Leo.
On the stage the Doctor lies motionless on the floor, until the pleasant smell of roasting bacon regains consciousness. "Jings," he moans. "STILL alive! I bet the Dustbins will go apeshit now, using the sewers, spreading their soldiers out underneath Cardiff... On the bright side, the Electro’s nice and safe and out of the way. We should be all right. Anyone fancy some fried Weevil or do we leave em to be scavenged by the Yuppies?"
Suddenly the room fills with the zombified human army, and on the stage the trapdoor explodes as Dustbins Mike and Dustbin Don blast into view, Leo held between them in chains. The audience cheer that at last this musical is featuring its title stars.
"OK, DOCTOR!" calls out Dustbin Don. "TIME TO END THIS FARCE! STAND UP AND DIE LIKE A BIPED! YOU WANT SUICIDE, YOU GOT IT!"
"YEAH," Dustbin Mike agrees. "THIS WILL BE, LIKE, TOTALLY SYMBOLIC OF THE NEW AGE BEGINNING! EARTH WILL BE FARGO 3.0!"
"Oh, and what a world!" the Doctor jeers as he strides up to them. "With anything just the slightest bit grubby scrubbed out of the dirt. Look, that’s Dustbin Leo you’ve got tied up, don’t you remember? The most charismatic Dustbin ever and look what you’ve done to him! Is THAT your new empire? Hmm? Is that the foundation for a whole new civilization?"
"YUP. YOU GOTTA PROBLEM WITH THAT, DOC?"
"OK," Leo sighs. "How many times do I have to say it before you idiots get it through your dome heads?! If YOU choose death and destruction, then DEATH AND DESTRUCTION will choose you!"
"SUB-PAR, LEO," Dustbin Mike complains. "THAT’S WORSE THAN THE SPHYNX IN MYSTERY MEN! BESIDES, WE ALWAYS SURVIVE AND NOW WE’RE GOING TO NUKE THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF THE DOCTOR, OUR GREATEST NEMESISESES!"
"But the Doctor’s the only way out of this shitheap!" Leo protests, getting to his feet and standing in front of the Time Lord. "If you morons want to kill him, you’ll have to go through me first?"
The Dustbins instantly open fire and the barrage engulfs the first and last ever Bistdun is bathed in a light so bright everything turns negative in a surprisingly expensive CGI effect.
"Aw jeez, me and my big mouth..." gurgles Leo as he drops dead to the stage, much to the amusement of the assembled Welsh who assume this is all a brilliantly satirical stage play.
"Jings," the Doctor sighs in disgust. "Your own leader, the only creature who might have led you out of the darkness and got you a social life. And you destroyed him. You guys ARE total morons! In fact, I don’t even trust you to exterminate me properly! You might as well get the new boys to shoot me, at least they might succeed!"
"BAPTIZE THE BISTDUNS IN BLOOD, HUH?" muses Dustbin Don.
"I’M UP FOR IT!" Dustbin Mike agrees brightly.
"What are you waiting for? Give the command!" shouts the Doctor impatiently as the assembled zombies cock their weapons and aim them at the suicidal Time Lord.
"EXTERMINATE!" scream the Dustbins.
Sweet fuck all happens. The audience starts to heckle the aliens.
"Why should we?" demands the Ricky Gervais extra suddenly, losing his hypnotized demeanor. "You’re not the boss of us. We’re not Dustbins. I’ve got union representation, I have!"
"Jings!" the Doctor grunts. "When I removed those bits of Dustbin casing from the mast it must have diminished the gene splicing, and allowed the human cells to reassert themselves! They have free will! Hah! I may not have killed myself, but I’ve completely defeated you!"
"UH, RAPH," Dustbin Mike calls. "WE KINDA GOT A PROBLEM. THE HYBRIDS ARE REVOLTING! USE THE DELTA WAVE TO WIPE THEM ALL OUT!"
"I CAN’T DO THAT, DOOFUS!" Dustbin Raph replies. "IT’S SET TO OUR DNA, IT’D FRY YOU AND DONNY AS WELL! YOU’LL HAVE TO PUT THEM DOWN THE OLD FASHIONED WAY, OK?"
"REAL TEN-FOUR BUDDY!" Dustbin Mike cheers, and instantly blasts down Ricky Gervais.
Instantly all the hybrids open fire with their Dustbin Tommy Guns in some demented recreation of the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, only with alien death lasers. The audience cheer as the Dustbins return fire and mow down up to three of their enemies. "FINE! TRY AND EXTERMINATE US THEN, JERKS!" sneers Mike.
Back in the basement, Dustbin Raph is insanely confident that things will resolve themselves happily and isn’t even thinking that giving their army weapons specifically designed to destroy Dustbins was a particularly dumb move when REGULAR Tommy Guns would have been just as good. "I SHALL HOVER TRIUMPHANT OVER THE ROTTING CORPSES OF MY DEADLIEST ENEMIES! NO ONE WILL EVER MESS WITH ME AGAIN! NOTHING CAN EVER STOP ME! I RULE ABSOLUTELY!" crows Dustbin Raph.
Back in the theatre, the audience gasps at the incredible lightshow as the Dustbins’ force walls finally crack under the pressure and the blasts start to tear the aliens apart.
"SOME VACATION THIS HAS TURNED OUT TO BE!!" wails Dustbin Don an instant before he explodes and the army turns its entire artillery onto Dustbin Mike.
"AW, MAN!" Dustbin Mike manages to complain before he, too, is blown to smithereens in the crossfire.
With three of the Cult of Fargo now kicking back in Dustbin Valhalla with 50 vestal virgins each that none of them know exactly what to do with, Dustbin Raph is left the last remaining Dustbin in the universe; their refusal to change their ways has brought the race to the edge of extinction, just like Dustbin Leo predicted.
"FUDGE," mutters Dustbin Raph darkly. "IT’S A GOOD THING LEO’S DEAD OTHERWISE HE WOULD FUCKING INSUFFERABLE RIGHT ABOUT NOW. I BET HE’D EXPECT US ALL TO LEARN SOMETHING FROM THIS OR SOMESUCH CRAP. AT LEAST I CAN MAKE A CLEAN SWEEP OF THE BISTDUN LOSERS! HEH. CLEAN SWEEP. I JUST SLAY ME."
The Dustbin-seeking Delta Wave is activated and all the hybrids in the theatre and the sewers give out whiny, girly screams of pain before crumpling to the ground and turning to dust – rather than let them live, the Dustbins have committed genocide for old time’s sake.
The Doctor enters the sub-basement, to see Dustbin Raph still connected to the battle computer and looking particularly weak and helpless. "Well, well, well," murmurs the Doctor with a shark-like. "Get out of THIS one."
"UT-OH... BACK OFF, TIME LORD, AND YOU WON’T GET HURT! GIVE UP AND I MIGHT EVEN GO EASY ON YOU!" shouts Dustbin Raph unconvincingly.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Just think about it, Dustbin - what was your name again, anyway?"
"DUSTBIN RAPH! RAPHAEL! R FOR RED, RED FOR RAPHAEL! GOD DAMN IT, IS IT SO DIFFICULT FOR YOU FILTHY BIPEDS TO TELL US APART?"
"Not any more! Your entire species has been wiped out, and now the Cult of Fargo has been eradicated, leaving only YOU," the Doctor retorts, looming over the alien death machine. "Right now you’re facing the ONLY man in the universe who MIGHT show you some compassion. Cause I’ve just seen one genocide. I won’t cause another, it’d take all the fun out of it. Now, Raph, are you gonna let me help you or are you gonna be really, really, INCREDIBLY sorry that you DIDN’T?!"
But the last Dustbin in existence has other ideas. "AS WOODY ALLEN ONCE SAID, I’M NOT AFRAID TO DIE. I JUST DON’T WANT TO BE THERE WHEN IT HAPPENS. AND WITH THAT IN MIND... EMERGENCY TEMPORAL SHIFT!" shout Dustbin Raph as he is bathed in a rapidly-flickering blue light, his outline blurring and fragmenting into nothing.
The Doctor charges forward into the blue haze, but it is too late as he is left alone in the laboratory looking like a total pratt.
"JINGS!!!!!" he shouts with boiling fury. "Oh, well, it can’t be helped," he adds a moment later, completely calm and relaxed. "You know that whole suicidal phase I went through was a bit embarrassing and counterproductive now I come to think about it. Jings, there’ve been too many deaths today. Way too many people have died. Brand new creatures and wily old accountants and age-old enemies. And I’m tellin’ you, I’m tellin’ you right now, that sure cures the blues! HAHA!"
An edit later, and the Doctor and Martha are saying farewell to Laszlo, ready to live out his days with Tallulah in Japan where he can eke out a comfortable living as a random encounter monster in every 9-bit Nintendo RPG made in the 1990s. They tried to get into the Cardiff shanty town but the new sheriff Frank refused to let them in. Apparently the "showgirl and pigman" thing was just icky and turned them all off their mineral water.
And so, the Doctor and Martha return to the TARDIS. "Sorry about the Dustbin getting away at the last second. I know what that means to you, since you’re so obviously screwed up. Think you’ll ever see it again?"
"Oh yes," the Doctor sighs, unlocking the TARDIS door. "One day. Maybe on the Island of Naboombu. Or the height of the Roman Empire. Or World War II. Or the Mutara Nebula. Or Milliways. Jings, he was probably that brain-fried psycho JR Ewing was using for dentistry practice! Jings, that WOULD be ironic, that would!"
Elsewhere, Dustbin Raph pops into existence in the steel flight deck a Dustbin Command Cruiser where the Dustbin Commander is shouting abuse at a tall, thin, sinister-looking man with a waxed moustache and a black top hat. The jist of the argument is that the Dustbin Commander wants Lavros, creator of the Dustbins, to start work on improving shields and engine capacity and Lavros would much rather stare moodily out of the window like a mid-90s Northern police detective and formulate grand plans of conquest and a book tour.
Just then it is discovered the Command Cruiser has gone out of control and is hurtling straight into the jaws of Emperor Dustbin’s Nightmare Child (a rather pretentious name for luggage cart) and they are all doomed to die in the inevitable collision.
Dustbin Raph realizes that he has somehow managed to maroon himself in the middle of the first year of the Temporal Difference of Opinion. "NOT COOL," he sighs. "I HATE THIS TIME-TRAVEL BUNK..."
"Tonight, I’m going to perform a miracle and both APPEAR IN and WRITE FOR Doctor Who!"
"That just sounds wrong!"
"I am 76 years old and look just like Peter Davison!"
"This is mine. Keep your hands off my boytoy, bee-yotch!"
"You really get on well with your family, don’t you, Martha?"
"Seriously, Tish. You shag him, you die."
"Tish, you’re in serious danger!"
"No, get away from the buffet table!"
"Just one more canape..."
"YOU’RE MY WIFE NOW, DAVE!"
...The Lazarou Experiment...