Blame Amy Pond!

Left: Type 40 - Kaput!

Two Gallifreyan TARDIS designers in overalls hold hot mugs of tea and scratch their noses as they discuss the latest model.

"So, what's the problem then?"

"Well, it's the Type 40."

"Oh, they aren't still moaning about the chameleon circuit are they? I said I'd get around to it."

"No, it's not that, it's the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"Y'know, the kaaaaaaaaboooooooom thing."

"Oh that. That'll never happen"

"But it might and if it does, well then the Universe..."

"Listen here now! You tell them we've got a lot of pre-orders for this model and we stand to make a fortune. If they're going to get all health and safety on this we're looking at a pretty heavy loss of revenue."

"But if it does, y'know, go kaaaaaaaaboooooooom we're looking at a crippling lawsuit."

"Listen, if it does go kaaaaaaaaboooooooom there will be no one around to sue. None of us will have existed so we won't be here to care. And another thing, even if someone does manage to survive being swept out of space/time reality, we can always just transfer liability or whatever they call it."

"Transfer liability?"

"Yeah, blame someone else. The consumer."

"The consumer?"

"Yeah, like that seven year old Scottish urchin you met on the space time visualiser."

"Ahh, no, not the cute wee one that cuts happy faces into apples!"

"Yeah. The one we sold the prototype to and now she uses it as a house."

"But that's mean."

"Ah, don't worry about her. She grows up to be a right loony anyway. Gets her boyfriend killed a few times and all. She's an accident waiting to happen. We'll blame her. We'll say she spilled some fish custard down the Eye of Harmony or something and we'll be off the hook, if indeed there is still a hook in existence which there won't be."

Archivist: Garr

The Doctor Who in Sex and the Settee

The Doctor Who may have changed his persona but his underlying perversity is beginning to rear its ugly head again. In his wickedness, and obsessed with the thought of cracks in the universe, he heads for Earth once more to seek relief.

The Doctor Who lands the Tardis in a park where he fancies there might be some dogging action, sending his time-space machine into a temporal loop to keep Amy Pond from spoiling his fun.

Unfortunately, with the park free of any such frivolity, the Doctor Who is guided by a kindly local to the red light district. Pausing only to steal some cash from a hole in the wall with his sonic screwdriver, he arrives at a house where a red lamp appears to be flickering upstairs.

To his great satisfaction, a voice summons him over the intercom: "Hello love, are you lookin' for some action? why dontcha come on in?"

"Thanks, just call me the Doctor Who," says the Doctor Who. "I've got the, er, rent."

Indoors, and unaware of the debauchery within the house, self-proclaimed funnyman James Corden and his young lady Sarah Jessica Parker Bowles are snuggling up on the sofa and looking forward to some romantic interaction. Suddenly, to their horror, they realise they are not alone. There is a voyeur in their midst - a stranger lurking behind the sofa.

"Ah, er, hello. They call me the Doctor Who," says the Doctor Who as he rises from his hiding place. "I was just, er, testing the walls."

"Don't give me that," says James. "You got that from John Cleese in Fawlty Towers."

But then their attention is distracted by a commotion above them. "Ooooh, what's that banging upstairs?" asks Sarah Jessica Parker Bowles.

"Banging upstairs? I've clearly got the wrong apartment," says the Doctor Who. And he is off at once, looking for a new adventure.

Archivist: Suthers

The Doctor Who and The Issues Helpline

FX: Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. Pause. Ring-ring, ring-ring, ring-ring.

Caller: "Hi, is that the helpline. You gotta help me guys. Er, hello?"

FX: Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now muzak by The Matt Smiths plays for an eternity.

Operator: "Right then. What do you want?"

Caller: "Oh thank goodness. Please help me. I've been affected by the issues."

Operator: "Well we gathered that. Otherwise you wouldn't be ringing would you?"

Caller: "Er, no I suppose not..."

Operator: "So you're depressed are you? A little bit under the weather and can't pull yourself together."

Caller: "Well I'm a little bit down but it's not depression. That's not the issue."

Operator: "What is it then?"

Caller: "My boyfriend died like that a couple of weeks back. He got stabbed through the heart by an artist's easel."

Operator: "Well it's easel-y done!"

Caller: "I'm sorry?"

Operator: "I said it's easel-y done. EASEL-Y geddit? OK, please yourself."

Caller: "Oh I see... Well yes, that is rather good. Ha ha! You know I feel better already."

Operator: "That's nice. Hey, did you see that Codwoorth is coming back?"

Archivist: Suthers

The Doctor Who and The Vincent van Gogh

The Vincent van Gogh is hearing things. Awful things that no one else can hear. He hears the evil music of Athlete, Coldplay, Snow Patrol and Keane.

SO! The Vincent van Gogh calls The Doctor Who on his loony phone. "Hello The Doctor Who, I'm hearing things again," he says and The Doctor Who says, "oh Vincent, you old loony with your trendy mental health issues, I think it's time you bucked up and faced life like a man."
"I know I should The Doctor Who," says The Vincent van Gogh, "but it's these dripping sentimental stadium rock power ballads, they are doing my head in. I can't get any painting done. Seriously, it's as evil as T'Pau's China In Your Hands or something by Chris DeBurgh."

The Doctor Who reckons that there is no music and that The Vincent van Gogh is just looking for attention or trying to be trendy or something. However, The Doctor Who changes his mind when The Vincent van Gogh shows up at the TARDIS door with Chris Martin impaled on the end an tripod easel. "Nice one," says The Doctor Who, "so it looks like loonies are cool after all."
"Yes," says The Vincent van Gogh, feeling all validated and with a tear in his eye, "loonies are cool."

The Timelad and the artist hug before setting out to kill more syrupy anthem stadium rockers with an array of artist's materials.
Archivist: Garr


The above graph has been temporarily placed on the archive as proof that Amy Pond is indeed spoilt and the cause of the crack and poor Rory's death/ceasing to exist amongst other things. CLICK TO ENLARGE!

See discussion:

Archivist: Garr
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