Thursday, February 4, 2010

10th Doctor - The Next Doctor (i)

Serial XMAS-08 – The Michaelmas Imposter
An Alternate Program Guide by Ewen Campion Clarke
From An Entry In The EC Unauthorized Guide O' Scrooge Syndrome

"YOA's Discontinuity Guides - Inaccurate But Caring."

Serial XMAS-08 – The Michaelmas Imposter -

Ah, Michaelmas! The feast of St Michael the Archangel, the beginning of autumn and the shortening of days, where debts are paid, geese are cooked, Satan is banished from heaven and the countdown to the next Richard Curtis movie begins.

Typically, the Doctor is spending the day in 1851 in a Cardiff alleyway watching a red-haired woman in her late fifties and a PVC school girl outfit and an unshaven American with an afro haircut wearing an electric blue Zoot Suit and a long multicoloured scarf exposit loudly about the unseen horrors breaking out of a nearby warehouse.

One such horror reveals itself to be a curious beast covered in scraps of bin liners and a huge paper and cardboard head with a Cyberman face drawn on it. Seemingly impressed by the Phillips head screwdriver the scarf-wearing nutter wields, the creature booms "Such-heroic-nonsense. We-need-warriors-not-loonies!" in an American accent and then runs away up a fire escape of the warehouse.

"I hate the way they leap onto the side of a nearby building like that! Don’t you, Dara?" asks the nutter of his companion before grabbing a lasso to try to climb the walls of the warehouse, even though there’s a perfectly good stairwell which the creature is, at this very moment, using rather successfully.

The Doctor watches the weirdo struggling to climb the rope for about seven minutes before asking the question clearly burning in the minds of the entire audience: "What IS your problem?"

"I’m the Doctor, UNIT’s scientific advisor!" replies the madman.

"Doctor who?" asks the Time Lord, unimpressed.

"Oh, just Doctor! I’ve grown used to it!" he laughs dorkily, before the rope snaps and the imposter falls flat on his ass. "Blast! I’m getting too young for this," he grumbles as the weird creature scurries off.

At first, the Doctor wonders if this might be a future incarnation of himself and the fluxing nature of history is allowing him to see his possible future ala Scrooge in "A Christmas Carol" – in which case, the Time Lord has to shape up something chronic if he wants to avoid turning into this scarf-wielding loser! But it quickly becomes apparent that this sad figure is less the Ghost of Christmas Future and more Über-Geek of Fandom Present.

"It’s so pathetic! Why would anyone pretend that? Unless it’s not a pretence and it’s a refuge from something even MORE awful! A place the human mind refuses to go! Despite all the evidence, the conscious mind just doesn’t WANT to accept the truth... like the truth being carried around in that watch pocket maybe?!"

Yes, the Doctor has noticed that the Loser Doctor is wearing a fob watch with a question mark on it – could it be a Chameleon Arch? Is Segal a future Doctor who has chucked it all in, turned himself into a Z-grade audio actor and now the faulty fob watch is bleeding through the true Time Lord spirit and the Fourth Doctor’s essence just happens to be the strongest? If so, opening the watch will cause this Loser Doctor to cease to exist, which is as good as reason as any for the Doctor to snatch the watch and open it.

Nothing happens.

On the plus side this means the Doctor isn’t destined to suffer a horrible soul-destroying catastrophe that makes him flee reality forever. On the downside it means he still has to deal with the jerk in the scarf who, even if he ISN’T a living spectre of a future not exactly great, it still incredibly annoying.

To avoid confusion, the Doctor decides to patronize the other so-called Time Lord and so calls himself "Matt Smith" only to find that the Loser Doctor is too busy banging on about how he is a hero who everyone trusts and loves even though he is the TV Trope definition of 'Jerk Ass'.

Even though the Cybermen are at work in Victorian Cardiff, having fallen to Wales and are planning to consume, assimilate and violently rogger all mankind, the Loser Doctor still needs reminding of this very serious situation by someone even more egocentric and self-centred than him, his raddled oversexed companion Dara.

"See you in a bit!" the Loser Doctor waves, and skips off to observe a funeral carriage being wheeled through the streets of Cardiff – the late Reverend Aubrey Fairchild who, according to local forensic pathologists, died horribly at the hand of an alien cyborg. Being a seasoned time traveler, "Matt Smith" can reveal that Fairchild’s great-great-grandson will one day become Prime Minister... and then die horribly at the hand of alien cyborgs.

The Loser Doctor is totally clueless about this. So he’s consistent in his ignorance if nothing else.

"Matt Smith" watches on with rising nausea as the Loser Doctor orders Dara to return to the TARDIS. "I shall affect an entrance through the rear. Go back to the TARDIS, this is hardly work for a woman!" Dave Segal booms, before quietly adding "Hey, that didn’t make me sound homosexual or anything, did it?"

"No... I don’t believe ANYONE would sleep with you voluntarily," the real Doctor says with a look of naked distaste.

"Matt Smith", bored, storms across the street, zaps the door with his sonic screwdriver and begins searching cupboards and drawers for clues why the Cybermen would want to take out a geriatric preacher famous for his charity to children. Well, he beat children senseless, which practically made him Bono for 1851.

Feeling rather lame, the Loser Doctor follows and demands to know what "Matt Smith" is doing – totally unaware that Dara has put on a black Tina Turner wig and started calling herself "Hamilton" as she sneaks into a secret underground base where the very fake-looking Cybermen are gathering to discuss things in American accents.

"Shouldn’t-you-be-preparing-for-the-ascension?" asks the CyberLeader, puttings his hands on hips. "How-the-hell-are-we-going-to-establish-the-Court-of-the-Cyber-King-if-you-aren’t-at-the-bloody-funeral?!"

"Oh! My! God! I can’t believe you’re bullying me when I’m the only one keeping the Doctor from, like, totally discovering your plans and defeating you utterly? And I just went and left him in the reverend’s apartment so you could, like, totally delete him! I’m so upset!"

The Cybermen watch her storm out.

"Stupid-bitch," a Cyberman notes.

At the dead vicar’s house, "Matt Smith" is bemoaning his inability to raid the fridge on the grounds the backward deceased doesn’t actually own one while the Loser Doctor wanders around the place making unfunny comments and claiming "I’m about as serious as a Romulan in the Klingon Embassy with news about the fate of the whole Federation."

Finally he is temporarily shut up when "Matt" finds a heap of memory sticks in the cupboard under the sink. Being totally useless, the Loser Doctor needs the concept of memory sticks explained to him and even when he finally understands they are mobile databases of information of a technology beyond 1851 Cardiff, he STILL doesn’t get why it might be in any way relevant to the situation with the Cybermen.

"If I killed you but put that scarf on life support," the real Doctor wonders aloud, "would anyone REALLY notice the difference?"

The Loser Doctor meanwhile is bored and suggests they return to his TARDIS and get K9 to do all the hard work for them, much to "Matt Smith’s" disgust, and opens the pantry door to reveal...


"Oh, now what?" the Loser Doctor wails pitifully as he runs away, leaving his newfound companion to face the Murray-Gold-Taking-The-Piss-Out-Of-Dudley-Simpson-music. Screaming hysteria, the Loser Doctor attempts to flee to the rooftops, but alas more Cybermen await them on the stairs!

"Matt Smith" sighs, snatches a cutlass from the wall and then engages in a Kill-Bill-style fight with the Cybermen that... well... leaves them all lying on the ground, moaning and bleeding.

"Jings... they’re just guys in suits!" he boggles. "I’m not trying to break the fourth wall or anything. These are just some American teenagers in silver painted cardboard armor..."

"We’ll cross that bridge when it’s hatched!" the Loser Doctor snaps.

"OK, copycat," snaps the real Doctor, threatening to cut the other man’s throat. "What the hell’s going on? Tell me and maybe I won’t cut through your SINGLE heart!"

"Let go of me! You can’t do this!" comes the feeble rejoinder. "I appeal to Caesar! Oops. Wrong century."

The Doctor groans at the awful humor and decides to let the Loser Doctor escape, if only to be free of this wrist-slittingly-awful wisecracking twat.

Meanwhile, in a graveyard blanketed by snow, a crowd of mourners look a tad depressed as the coffin is lowered into the ground. Then Hamilton arrives and, swiveling her hips suggestively in her PVC schoolgirl outfit as she slinks up to the graveside and the service grinds to a halt in abject discuss.

This wardrobe malfunction is indeed retarded behavior from Hamilton, since in Victorian times the penalty for showing up at a funeral like that was gang-rape followed by twenty-four hours of self-flagellation before the gouging out of one’s own eyes. The Victorians were an interesting people, weren’t they?

"Okay, who were the four speaking parts? Ah, yes, stick around. I’ve more work for you. The whole reason we killed the reverend was to lure you all here, anyway. As for everybody else, you’ve been terribly wooden and your facial hair is appalling. Time to die! Kill them, my Cyber-homies!" Hamilton shrieks. "Kill them all!"

Before any of the mourners can ask where what the hell she’s on about, five Cybermen mince through the snow and attack, their lethal-joy-buzzers slaughtering everyone in their path. Desperately, the remaining men scatter, much to Hamilton’s horror:

"Wait, why are you running? How dare you! THAT isn't the idea at all!"

Finally, all except Mr. Cola, Mr. Scooner, Mr. Fido and Mr. Fishfingers have been eradicated, and they ask Dara why they are required by these freaks in metallic bondage gear. She vows to explain later, and starts laughing like a crazy bitch all over again.

Then she runs off, hastily pulling off her wig and becoming Dara once more, and hiding in the deserted railway station that the Loser Doctor and his groupies are staying at on a temporary basis.

Yes, Dara is just one of many companions the Loser Doctor keeps around because they’re even MORE irritating and stupid than he is. Along with Dara are:

- the irritating robot dog K9 toy, won off the back of a Cornflakes packet
- a cardboard cutout of Elizabeth Sladen circa 1977
- Tom Anderson and his mail order Thai bride Sara;
- Susie-Jo Parker, a large-breasted redhead the Loser Doctor married in Los Vegas when both of them were very, very drunk;
- Landon, a Time Lord SO uptight even his fellow immortals think he’s got the Perigosto Stick of Rassilon jammed up his ass and have sent him to "supervise" the Loser Doctor and hopefully lighten up;
- Dylan Dillion, a Cyberman Sex Therapist from the planet Cannit Jannit;
- Roy Kitterage, a wimpy little science geek none of the others seem to be able to shake off.
Arriving at the squalid slum stuffed to the gills with packing crates marked "DAVE SEGAL’S STUFF – TOUCH & DIE!!", Dara manages to look even remotely innocent when the Doctor and the Loser Doctor appear.

"You have a warped concept of what is "brave", Matt!" the Loser Doctor jeers when it becomes obvious what a useless cowardly tool he resembled when the real Doctor was out there fighting Cybermen.

Settling down to watch yet ANOTHER repeat of the Tom Baker story Revenge of the Cybermen, the Loser Doctor leaves the Doctor and Dara to make the tea and biscuits. Dara recalls how she and the Loser Doctor met, when she was slutting it up on the school trip and then murdered two innocent bystanders in cold blood. Not that she cared.

The Doctor begins to suspect that Dara might not just be pathologically self-absorbed, but no-holds-barred, no-beg-your-pardons out-and-out evil. However, he cannot possibly imagine how Dara could be a threat to a sack of dead badgers, let alone people with a functioning central nervous system, so he lets it go.

"Anyway, can I see your TARDIS now?" the Doctor demands impatiently.

"K9! Bring me the TARDIS!" the Loser Doctor says impressively.

Fifteen minutes later, his resolve cracks and he miserably point to the back yard where a perfectly ordinary hot air balloon with the words "TIGER QUEST" written over the side. Sitting beside it is Mark Tryhard, wearing a StarFleet uniform and drinking a bottle of hootch, musing "I coulda been a fucking contender!" to himself.

The Doctor stares at the balloon in shock, unable to think of anything to say beyond simply, "Jings, what the fuck is WRONG with you freaks?"

"That’s the TARDIS," the Loser Doctor says proudly. "T-A-R-D-I-S. Tethered Arial Relocator Designed In Seattle!"


"I’ll have you know that this is a Class 1-A Modular Tri-Dimenional Prydonian-Grade Time Capsule! It is NOT a 'bloody hot air balloon'!"

Leaving the two of them to argue, Dara swaps wigs once more and runs off into the night cackling insanely. "Hamilton" confronts Mr. Cola, Mr. Scooner, Mr. Fido and Mr. Fishfingers who are now standing rigidly to attention with their brains controlled by some costume jewelry.

"Yeah, those blue-tooth ear-pieces shall, like, totally arouse the suspicion of nobody!" Hamilton laughs.

After making them dance the YMCA, she sends them on their appointed tasks and then runs back to base, becoming "Dara" once again. The Doctor has managed to use the most basic of logical thought to prove that the Loser Doctor is not who claims. Even after proving this beyond all reasonable doubt to everyone present, the Loser Doctor still refuses to admit he’s an incredibly unconvincing imposter.

"There is still something that you’re not saying!" the Loser Doctor rants. "Some secret that is so horrible that you don’t want to face it! What is it? What’s the real reason behind this insane façade? Uncover the truth! I’ll put an end to this insanity once and for all!"

"Jings," the Doctor sighs. "Fine. You want the truth? You’re not the Doctor. Not now. Not ever. You’re actually some nutter called Dave Segal who’s going round pretending to be me."

"WHAT?!" the Loser Doctor gasps.

"I said, 'You’re not really the Doctor'."

"I heard what you said! That was me being rhetorical!"

The Doctor activates a Cyberman memory stick marked "DR. WHO" and on the wall, shimmering stock footage appears as the data on the stick is replayed – all the known body print images of the Doctor (with a caption informing the audience that all the images are from stories available on DVD by BBC Worldwide for a very reasonable price). There are in all ten Doctors and not a single one of them is the tit in the scarf claiming to be one of the canon.

"I disbelieve you with every fibre of my being!" whimpers the imposter pathetically, trying not to cry.

The Doctor holds up the imposter’s pocket watch.

"The watch is Dave Segal’s. You have the watch. You own the watch that belongs to Dave Segal. You, being in ownership of said watch, in all probability, would have some form of connection to Dave Segal. If I had to make supposition, I would suggest the possibility that you, yourself, in your current state of being, are actually Dave Segal himself."

"...I can’t QUITE see what you’re getting at," Dave Segal sobs.

"You’re not the Doctor. I am the Doctor."

"YOU don’t have a scarf!" Segal squeals.

The Doctor laughs cruelly. "No wonder the Cybermen are just humans in masks scaring people! They’re fakes made by you, because you believe you’re a shape-changing alien trying to keep the legend of Tom Baker alive! I thought you might be tapping into the legend of the Doctor in order to put food on the table for his family and constructing stunts like this to make yourself look good but it turns out you’re all just mentally retarded psycho fans!"

"HE’S RIGHT!" screams Roy Kitterage suddenly. "THIS IS ALL A LIE! We’re just a bunch of lonely American fans, who were mocked and dejected by our peers. We fled back in time to this simpler age to enjoy our fun and games and unauthorized audio plays! But the truth has followed us! First the real Cybermen and now the real Doctor! THIS IS THE END OF THE LINE"

Roy delves into a suitcase and pulls out a pump-action shotgun. Screaming that "it’s kinder this way", he shoots Tom, Sara, Susie-Jo, Landon, Dillion, Mark and K9, before turning the gun on himself and blowing his brains out. Only lack of ammunition spared the Doctor, Dave Segal and Dara. That and the fact they’re the main characters.

As the blood drips off the walls and the smell of gunpowder and burnt human flesh wafts around the room, Dave Segal decides that the entire conversation is "completely irrelevant anyway" and to ignore any and all evidence placed before him that he is nerd with no life.

As the church bells chime midnight, Michaelmas Day, the Doctor decides he’s wasted enough of his life on this problem. He doesn’t even care that they’re temporal deviants causing chaos in established history in their fanatical desire to recreate Tom Baker episodes.

The Doctor storms for the exit, leaving Dave Segal weeps over the prop (seemingly not interested in the six friends of his now lying dead in front of him). "K9!" sobs the imposter. "I’m be lost without him!!"

"Good, I hope you stay there," the Doctor sneers as he goes.

As he emerges out into the street, the Doctor notices Mr. Cola marching a crowd of orphans out of a workhouse. Of course, considering the general cruelty of Victorians to the young, the poor, not to mention their borderline slave trading, a mass of flea-bitten young paupers looking miserable being marched through the streets isn’t that much of an odd sight but nevertheless it turns out "Hamilton’s" belief that no one would notice the flashing bluetooth was unsurprisingly stupid and the Doctor twigs some Cyberman crap is going down.

The Doctor joins the kids and cheers them up with his brilliantly-performed renditions of songs from "Oliver!"

Soon the entourage join other children and are lead into a warehouse with a flashing neon sign saying "WELCOME TO THE COURT OF THE QUEENBITCH!!" in large 80s cursive font.

Lead inside the hellish workhouse filled with a myriad of machinery, it’s almost but not quite instantly recognizable as the Touchwood Hub with some bags of coal dumped in the corners. "Hamilton" arrives and announces that the Ascension of the QueenBitch must take place immediately, before the genuine Doctor can interfere.

Nevertheless, she still thinks there’s time for her to make the now-redundant Mr. Cola, Mr. Scooner, Mr. Fido and Mr. Fishfinger do the Funky Chicken and then strangle each other for "Hamilton’s" own sadistic amusement.

Just then the Doctor realizes that Dave Segal has followed him for want of something to do, and it’s quite clear he has absolutely nothing else in his entire life more interesting than stalk the Doctor as he take on fake Cybermen with Brooklyn accents.

"You’re not planning on leaving me behind? You might need me!"

"I might need YOU? In this strange complex of time and space where anything is possible... nope, you STILL wouldn’t be helpful!"

As they watch, "Hamilton" addresses her infant workforce, still showing her tragically low IQ as she doesn’t spot the two adults in anachronistic clothing amongst all the under-tens.

"Isn’t that Dara?" the Doctor frowns.

"That face," Dave Segal murmurs. "It looks strangely familiar. As if I’d seen it before..."

"That’s what 'familiar' MEANS, ya daft tit!"

The horrible truth soon becomes apparent – since the SCADs have so few actors, what ones they DO have must double- and even triple-up! The actress playing Dara is also playing the lead villain and, also, seems to be taking this play-acting a wee bit too far since she’s screaming for " the new industrial revolution is about to begin" and shouts at the children to get to work providing energy levels for the mysterious "QueenBitch" to activate.

Finally the decrepit redhead notices the Doctor and Dave Segal, though she seems to have forgotten who they are. "So, what do we have here? Some with intimate knowledge of my knights in cardboard armor and tinfoil!"

"Dara... it’s US!"

"We were talking to you fifteen minutes ago, remember?"

"I know not this common 'Dara' of whom you speak! I am Miss Hamilton!" rants the nutter, refusing to drop out of character like her co-stars, not even for a cheap sight gag. "The intergalactic femme fatale who has summoned the Cybermen to Old Cardiff Town to replace my legs with a funky Cyber spider leg type thingamajig! Kill them!"

The Doctor eyes the faux Cybermen and tries to look like he cares. "Let me die happy! Tell me one thing! WHO do you think actually LISTENS to your shitty fan audios?! Even Briggsy has a bigger fanbase!"

"Very soon now the whole British Empire will hear our back catalogue!" rants Hamilton. "They will bow down in worship at our superior scripts and subtle budgetary restraints!"

"Just in time for Michaelmas. Was that your idea?"

"Nope, just coincidence, really. Now, time to die! The ascension shall begin at once!"

Hamilton is then thoroughly surprised when the Cybermen – ALSO taking this thing way too seriously – drag her to an electric chair and force a Cyberman voice changer helmet over her heat, converting her into the living mind of the QueenBitch.

Unfortunately, these SCAD losers have made yet another fatal mistake:

Now completely insane, the personalities of Hamilton and Dara fuse and combine into an ego large enough to knock the Earth out of orbit and this is represented televisually by the actress wearing pitch black contact lenses and talking in a funny voice. Hey, if it worked for a season finale in Buffy the Vampire Slayer...

The QueenBitch marvels at the new landscapes and scopes in her head, her ego too strong for this Cyber technology to override. "Such information! I can see the stars, the worlds beyond, the vortex of time itself and the whole of infinity! Oh! My! God! This is so totally random! I am, like, so totally hot right now!"

Deciding that nothing these American fans are capable of could possibly hurt anyone, the Doctor calmly leads all the children out of the workroom and back home, with Dave Segal’s best approximation of "help".

"This looks like the beginning of a warm and beautiful friendship," the scarf-wearing nutter beams beatifically.

"Then you need your eyes tested," the Doctor sighs.

About five minutes after they’ve gone, the QueenBitch decides it’s time to ascend out of the sewers and conquer the entire freaking world and it is only now that we twig that her dinky metal throne is actually the tiniest part of a colossal steam-punk giant Cyberman robot built entirely out of toilet rolls and sticky-backed plastic!

Dave Segal finally remembers this plot point and shit himself in abject terror – this Cyberromp remake has got totally out of hand! "Oh no, but that means... I got to stop them! I must stop them!"

"Jings, what are you driveling on about now?" the Doctor snaps.

"Ah, forget it!"

Just then the QueenBitch ascends, rising out of Mermaid Bay and towering over Cardiff as Dara/Hamilton shouts through a megaphone she is now ruler of the Earth due to her incredible hotness. The QueenBitch is a giant walking factory that, while not being able to create proper Cybermen, can STILL turn millions of people into gimp slaves for Dara/Hamilton’s sick amusement.

Soon the ship begins stomping across the city, crushing buildings underfoot. Their ethereal song echoes out across the land:


Like most of the population, the Doctor and Dave Segal stare up at the behemoth in confusion.

"Uh-oh," the imposter gulps.

"OK, what in the name of Donna Noble’s cleavage is that?!?"

"It’s a Dreadnought-Class Cyber Bling Warrior!" gasps Dave Segal. "A giant walking Cyberman with a cyber conversion factory and android brothel at its heart, with in-built spandex-covered sheep bots!!"

The Doctor falls silent and watches as the QueenBitch lays waste to Cardiff in the best traditions of Kaiju carnage. "You know," he says eventually, "that has to be THE most amazingly retarded alien super weapon I’ve ever seen! Not only does it require a ludicrous amount of power and is impossible to obscure from the enemy, all it has is a big fucking gun!" the Doctor boggles. "You people just don’t GET the idea the Cybermen are supposed to be logical and intelligent, do you?!"

"What are we gonna do now?!" Dave Segal panics.

The Doctor rolls his eyes. "Well, ideally now we would return to the TARDIS and transform it into a Giant Robo-Doctor and then duke it out with them but unfortunately..."

"Then there’s only one option left," rants Dave Segal, finally getting the sarcasm being screamed directly into his face. "I must call on my past and future incarnations to help us!"

"You don’t HAVE any past and future incarnations!" the Doctor points out as Dave Segal presses his fingertips to his temples in a pathetic display of concentration.

Suddenly, with a generic Blake’s 7 sound effect, four figures appear in the snow beside them: a bloke dressed like Sherlock Holmes (JK Flynn); a fat guy with a lazy eye, walking stick and Zampata moustache (Jym de Natale); a skinny dude in a magician’s outfit complete with top hat and cloak (Jeffrey Coburn); and a cardboard cutout of Dave Segal in a StarFleet uniform and grey chest wig.

"You have GOT to be kidding me!" the Doctor groans.

"Oh no, not ANOTHER Abbot & Costello routine!" groans Jeff Coburn. "What is it this time? Children In Need? Comic Relief? And five of us this time? What part of 'overkill' don’t you get?" he demands of Dave Segal, who shuffles uncomfortably.

"You’ve interfered with history and changed the timelines!" exclaims Jym de Natale. "Are you mad? Oh wait, of course you are. I do beg your pardon, you strange and insane individual!"

"Oh blast!" Dave Segal bitches. "I forgot I turned into a rambling windbag anus as I got older!"

"How dare you sah!" Jym de Natale retorts. "I age like a fine wine and grow more palatable over the years!"

"Which makes me the obvious zenith of perfection," JK Flynn points out.

"YOU’RE corked, grandad!" Jym de Natale spits at him.

"You tend to age like spoiled milk if you ask me!" Dave Segal mumbles, pretending the cardboard cutout is actually talking. Which is really kind of creepy if I’m honest.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake..." growls the genuine Doctor and sprints off to actually save the day, leaving the wannabe Doctors arguing. Jeff Coburn looks at the retreating Doctor, then his bickering costars, then decides to follow the Doctor.

"Do you even listen to YOURSELF sometimes?" Jym de Natale boggles. "I’d say it sounds like you’re making it up as you go along, but that would imply you possess a gossamer scintilla of originality, you pallid Tom Baker copycat!"

"Says who?!" demands Dave Segal.

"Says ME," retorts JK Flynn, unimpressed. "Been reading the thesaurus Father Christmas got you, huh?" he asks Jym de Natale.

"It’s a crime not to use the language to all its full richness," he replies, rather defensively. "And not, I repeat NOT, a crutch to mask one being... ahem... physical under-endowed!"

"You’re not fooling anyone, you know. You DO realize this?" asks Jeffrey Coburn gently.

"IF we could concentrate on the matter at hand, there is a giant Cyberman smashing up the town!" Dave Segal snaps. "Has anyone encountered this sort of thing before?"

"I know I haven’t," JK Flynn sighs. "So that rather rules the rest of you out, doesn’t it?"

"And they say *I* have an ego!" seethes Jym de Natale.

"You do!" insists Dave Segal via his cardboard cutout.

"YOU’RE hardly one to talk," JK Flynn protests. "You think anyone’s actually falling for that? There’s only four of us and you pretending to be some loser called Vincent Savage! It’s just embarrassing..."

"He never listens to reason," Jym de Natale sighs.

"YOUR reason is as frilly as your shirt!" 'Vincent Savage' snorts. "And if you think I’m going to play second fiddle to someone who’s ego gets its own dressing room..."

"We don’t have to put up with this, you know!" Jeff Coburn retorts and all three future incarnations flip Dave Segal the bird and disappear, leaving Segal holding the cardboard cutout.

"I guess I’ll just nibble on my jelly babies," the imposter sighs. "Oh. Someone ate them all! Damn!"

The real Doctor has meanwhile, commandeered the hot-air balloon and manages to fly up into the sky away from the carnage. Unfortunately, the wind blows in the wrong direction and he finds himself hurtling straight towards the gigantic QueenBitch where Dara/Hamilton and the Cybermen are all folding their arms and tapping their feet impatiently. Mind racing furiously, the Doctor realizes he must defeat this gigantic war machine and the crazy tart at the controls with only a heap of memory sticks and his superhuman Scottish charisma.

To buy him some more time he goes through the motions of offering QueenBitch and the Cybermen a trip to some uninhabited quarry planet where they can strut around sodomizing each other in peace, which Dara/Hamilton instantly refuses.

Frantically wiring all the memory sticks together with an industrial laser pointer, the Doctor stalls by asking the QueenBitch if she’s really sure that’s her final answer or if she’d like to, perhaps, phone a friend and think again?

"Remember, you have only three hours to make up your mind and if you don’t take up the offer then I’ll forced to go Family of Blood on your pale mechanical ass!"

"What do you think I am?" scoffs the QueenBitch. "Stupid?"

"Pretty much!" the Doctor shouts, cutting the crap and fires his freaky device at the QueenBitch which manages – in a truly impressive blaze of computer-generated electric blue radiation – to do absolutely fuck all.

Undaunted at this apparent failure, the Doctor starts to cackle insanely. "You’re DEAD, Dara Hamilton!"

"Get real! I am, like, totally stronger than ever!"

"FUCK YOU, YOU THICK BITCH!" the Doctor screams at her. "I’m the REAL Doctor with the REAL alien death rays and if I say that you’re dead, you raddled old ham, then YOU’RE DEAD, OKAY? DEAD!"

The QueenBitch flicks her hair. "What are you talking—-"

But she gets no further as she suddenly and inexplicably explodes in a massive fireball that destroys all the Cybermen and the top half of the giant robot, which promptly topples out of the sky and crashes onto the city below. Luckily, as it was made mainly out newspaper and chicken wire, the people on the streets who have been fleeing for cover are totally unharmed and the menace is over.

"The one and only, you ungrateful fanbase!" the Doctor roars.

It then strikes the Time Lord that he has absolutely no idea how to land the hot-air balloon and he floats off into the night, swearing profusely as he drifts further and further away from the city and all the rejoicing Welshmen.

"That was too close," Dave Segal mumbles lamely. "How could you destroy such a unique life form?! How convenient that magic wand manages to defeat the bad guy completely without explanation! Are we just supposed to accept it? You call that rabbit out of your sleeve a wrap-up? YOU CAN’T WRITE YOURSELF OUT OF THE NARRATIVE THAT EASILY!"

Then, realizing that this is his chance to finally become the One, True Doctor, Dave Segal immediately races through the streets towards where the Doctor’s TARDIS is parked. "At last! My hour has come!" he shouts. "I can steal a real time capsule and become the Doctor Eternal!"

But upon reaching the police box, he is bitch-slapped to the snowy ground by a black man in red Time Lord robes and triceratops headgear standing beside the TARDIS.

"Too slow, my friend," the Time Lord booms, stepping over the imposter and striding into the TARDIS. "You were always my LEAST-favorite," he adds before shutting the door and dematerializing.

"...blast," Dave Segal mutters for want of something to say.

Next Time...
"Ding! Ding! Hold on to your hats!"
"End of the line. Only one more year..."
"Dubai; it’s another planet."
"What is it? What’s wrong? Doctor, just stop hiding under the chair and tell me..."
"Every single instinct of mine is telling me NOT to let you become my new companion, you callous bitch."
"Sumtin is cumin! Ridin on der wind! Dey do dat ting dey do."
"...what the hell are you talking about?"
"DEATH... in the form of giant metal stingrays!"
"Doctor, I’m shitting myself with terror right about now!"
"Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run..."
"That planet out there? Three suns, wormholes and alien sand? That planet is NOTHING. Trust me, this time next year, not even the diehard fans will even REMEMBER this story... I know I won’t!"
...Escape to Danger on the Planet in Space Cutaway!...

No comments: