Doctor Who and The Enemy Without

Moffat settled back in the leather chair of his new office at Upper Boat as he contemplated the future. The Time Lord's future - or should that be his past, he thought with a chuckle. What richness of ideas he might employ weaving strands of time with the mysterious fabric of what scientists were now calling the multiverse!

BEEEEEEEP! An annoying noise of the intercom jolted him from his creative musings. “I'm sorry, sir, but I've got that Russell T Partridge on the line again. Insists he needs to speak to you.”

Moffat picked up the phone with a sigh. “Rusty. Are you still in that Travel Inn? What is it this time?”

“All hail the Mighty Moff! Aha!” came the reply from the panting buffoon. “Listen, I've had another brilliant idea for a story. Epic stuff. The planets are all popping out. Pop, pop, pop. The Doctor Who races off to the Shimmering Falls of Shambolicness via the Wake of Finnegan and Rainbow of Finian, finds the Vest of Verbosity and Pants of Putrefaction just in time. Then pausing only to pop round to Rose's for a nice cup of tea - because everyone stops for a cuppa, very English – he siphons off the energy and diverts it out the back of the Tardis through the Conservatory of Continuity and everything is ticketyboo.”

“Listen Russell. I've told you. It's my show now...”

“Wait! How about this one. Doctor Who idea for the Beeb No 253. Donna's in the launderette, washing her smalls making faces at the Doctor Who through the window. Suddenly all the washing machines start shaking violently, their doors burst open and an army of 50 million Cybermen march through... Think of the ratings!”

“Goodbye Russell!”

“I can add Daleks... Slitheen?”

Moffat slammed down the phone and put his head in his hands. This was supposed to be his dream job. How had it ever come to this?”

Archivist: Suthers