The Doctor Who and the Overt Foreboding and Also There's a Mysterious Poem

The stairs of doom. Nothing like Spanish Steps but the best we could find.
The Doctor Who the second sits upon a cheap set meant to look like the Spanish Steps, because it is a very famous set of stairs and the Doctor Who is always messing about with famous things. A bearded man in a hat walks by in the background, never breaking eye contact with the camera.

Yesterday, upon the stair... 

The Doctor Who the fourth is walking through a crowd of cheap looking aliens (hey, sometimes the discount you get for buying in bulk isn't enough) when he bumps into an elderly man who out-tramps the Doctor Who. The Doctor Who apologizes by saying something inscrutable and continues on his way.

I met a man who wasn’t there... 

The Doctor Who the sixth is quite busy being very cross indeed, and asks a nearby staring man what he's looking at. The man replies with the single most cryptic thing anyone could ever possibly say in that particular situation.

He wasn't there again today... 

The Doctor Who the eighth tries to do a clever sciencey thing of some kind while attempting to ignore a man wearing precisely too many layers of clothing who is standing behind him, waving his hands in front of his face and saying, "I'm not being you. It hasn't been long since I was you but I'm not being you. Is this annoying you? I'm not being you."

Oh, how I wish he'd bugger off.

Archivist: Brainiac Nutjob

Doctor Who and the Incredibly Stupid Idea

Steven Moffat bolted down his Cheerios and rushed from the breakfast table. He couldn't wait to get to Upper Boat to jot down his exciting new plans for the Doctor Who.

The horror of Moffat's plans begin to sink in.
As he entered his office, Mark Gatiss was already sitting across the desk. He looked up warily at the grinning, curly-haired showrunner with a terrible sense of foreboding.

Moffat burst into an excited babble. "Oh Mark, I've come up with the biggest wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey idea ever. This one's really going to boost the ratings!"

"Go on," said the slender writing rival, with an increasing feeling of unease.

"You'll love this one," blurted Moffat. "The Doctor Who will regenerate as a woman. No surprise there. Everyone's guessed. But then I'll send her back in her own timestream to meet an earlier Doctor - or maybe more - and they'll fall in love and get it together and in a paradoxy-woxy result, she gives birth to a baby who turns out to be the first Doctor Who!"

Gatiss sat frozen, the blood drained from his face.

"Oh, not for nothing do they call me the Mighty Moff," gabbled Moffat. "Never mind the impossible girl, this is going to be the impossible Doctor. And I reckon I can stretch it out over 13 episodes. Let me think now . . ."

Gatiss stared at his boss with a mixture of loathing and contempt. This overconfident clown was undoing 50 years of TV history. He was destroying the show he loved. Would there still be a Doctor Who when it came to be his turn to take the reins?

Archivist: Suthers

Doctor Crybaby and the Muffin Men

Who broke my window? There will be consequences.
Jack the Tripper: (In silly, deep voice) "Have you seen the Muffin Man, the Muffin Man, the Muffin Man. Have you seen the Muffin Man who lives on Drury Lane?"

Madame Vacuous: "What are you rambling on about? You must be executed."

Jack: "But I know the secret of the Doctor Who. Even though I have never met him. He has a secret love for muffins. It is discovered."

Madame Vacuous: "Then you must be saved."

Jack: "Hang on, I know his name too . . ."

Madame Vacuous: "I must organise a conference call at once. It will give the Moff a chance to re-use his tedious desktop-theme joke."

Meanwhile, in a galaxy far far away

Commander Potato Head: "Are you looking at my pint?"

Stereotypical Scotsman: "Aye. And what are you gonna do aboot it? I'll gi ye a Glaswegian handshake."

Meanwhile in a Tardis far far away

Doctor Who: "So Clara. What can you possibly be?"

Clara: "Oh, I'm the impossible girl, Doctor Who."

Doctor Who: "I thought so. Tell you what, let's go to Trenzalore for a holiday. That will sort you out. But first I must sit down and have a little cry."

Spot of sobbing. They step out of the Tardis.

Doctor Who. "I remember when this was all fields."

Muffin Men: Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Archivist: Suthers


A rift in the time thing causes The Doctor Who the fourth slip through the rift in the time thing and meet a lady/girl thing who is hanging around the TARDIS during the 50th anniversary of The Doctor Who's adventures being broadcast on space time visualisers.

The Doctor Who the fourth (dropping through time mid sentence): ...the very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common. They don't alter their views to fit the facts. They alter the facts to fit their views. Which can be very uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that needs alteri... oh, hello.

Sassy MacFilrtyperkmoffatcouplingtypething: 'Show me your willy Mr. Time Knickers.'

Then The Doctor Who the eleventh dances into the room waving his arms about.

The Doctor Who the eleventh: I'm The Doctor Whooooo. I'm The Doctor Whoooodeedoooo.

The Doctor Who the fourth (under breath) : ...fuck's sake.




(pictured above: envelope pushing imagery)

On the planet Panto, The Doctor Who and Clara McPerky enjoy jolly japes in the type of snowy scene that might be conjured in the imagination of one who has no imagination.

“Oh The Doctor Who”, says Clara McSassy “I'm not going to make a shred of bloody sense”. The Doctor Who is delighted and he says, “I love girls whose general narrative direction doesn't amount to anything remotely resembling a coherent story, just like River and Amy.”

Then some monsters come along (don't worry children, they were just the usual bunch of easily defeated arseholes - this time one looked like a popcorn machine and even made the same fuckin sound when it wasn't dialling in Magneto) and The Doctor Who tells Clara McCheeky that the monsters can only hurt her if she thinks negative thoughts and then The Doctor Who gives Clara McBubbly a copy of the best seller The Secret and informs her that it is the show's new story bible.

Then sad music comes on and the legacy of the irrepressible inventiveness, eccentric uniqueness, and pure intelligence of Lambert, Newman, Derbyshire, Nation and co. is laid out on a table and breathes its last and it rains tears on all of Whodom but no one cares or even notices because it reminds them all of a fun episode of Coupling with a dash of sub-Harry Potter, a pinch of Lois and Clark, and a large dollop of fuckin Merlin or that awful Robin Hood thing from a few years ago that didn't work out.

...and then Bruce Forsyth's Celebrity Dancing Holocaust comes on and everyone is so pissed drunk they think it's still The Doctor Who Self-Referential/Reverential Television Action Hour.

Archivist: Garr
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