Dr Who and the Living Dolls

Amarië wrote:
The whole story is a spoiler, Dave! Run! RUUUUN!!!

Episode 5

"Now dear," the Doctor said in in platonic fatherly way to the pretty young Clara who walked elgantly beside him not dressed in a short unrespectable skirt that showed her ankles and knees and suspenders like was Mrs Figg's wont but in proper ladylike Victorian clothes. "We must needs be wary because it may be a trap and even if it's not a trap it may be a twist that ends up being a trap."  

"Ooh, Doctor, this story is really a return to the halcyon days of The Doctor when silliness had it's own mature dimension, not like the over-clever character-based trash we sometimes are exposed to nowadays."

"Do you mean Porn?"

"No - I mean Science Fiction."

"Mmm... sometimes I wonder if Science Fiction isn't after some fashion all Porn underneath."

"Oh how deep, Doctor. You truly are a mature thinker - a philosopher even."

"Oh I don't know that I'm quite that deep."  

"No - but by Doctor Who standards..."

"Yes. You do have a point. You know, you remind me so much of Sarah Jane."

"And not Amy Pond?"

"Not in any fashion."

Clara exhaled in relief. "It's all in the Better Writing I think."

"We should be very thankful Ol' Anon is writing this. A modest genius - but a genius nonetheless."  

"I am, I am. Though I do have some misgivings about my budding relationship with Petty, even if he's so sweet and innocent when he's unconcious. I actually thought it mean of that Figg woman to kick him out of his faint... Nonetheless...."

"I know where this is heading, Clara, but I'm sure it will all work out for the best in the end. Remember, you are Clara Oswald, a pretty young woman with a bold spirit and with intelligence to burn while he is Petty McCracken... I mean to say, not even Ol'  Anon can keep your romance credible for long."

"Is it credible now?"

"I shouldn't really like to say. I mean, Petty is quite a sensitive chap and gets crabbit as easy as falling off a log (apparently). Here we are: The Clockwork Cafe."

"Oh Doctor. Look at those beautiful perfectly formed women walking in and out. I must say, they saunter about rather aimlessly in a most stiff and erect yet fetching fashion."  

"And those young men. Every bit as stiff and erect and every bit as fetching wth it."

"Clockwork, Doctor?"

"Err... well not publicly..."

"No 'clockwork'. They look almost like they are clockwork people. Clockwork! ...  Oh my! They're Living Dolls! They're actually breathing!"

"No they aren't."

"Oh sorry, Doctor, that was me. I'm breathing. And I don't even know why I said that."

"Well, I'm sure Ol' Anon wouldn't have put that in your dialogue if he didn't have a brilliant reason for it. I'll keep 'breathing' in mind, I think. It's like a clue. Wow! Will you just look at the menu on the front door."   

"What an unusual menu, Doctor. Human livers, human breasts, human sausages, human muffins.... What a peculiar set of dishes."  

"Don't knock it until you've tried it. Let's go inside."

"Oh Doctor! Wait! Look through the window! The waiter appears to have a half-human half-clockwork head. He looks evil but with an unexpected good aspect hidden deep in his subconcious. Is this a trap!"

"No, it's a cafe. In we go. Mmm... [sniff] is that sausages? [sniff]..."


to be continued...

"Now dear," the Doctor said in in platonic fatherly way to the pretty young Clara who walked elgantly beside him not dressed in a short unrespectable skirt that showed her ankles and knees and suspenders like was Mrs Figg's wont but in proper ladylike Victorian clothes.


This is the sort of thing that gets you smacked in Forumshire

Episode 6

"You know, I have a fair urge to smack Ol' Anon just now."

"Aye as heard he liks thart kind of thung."

"You really don't understand. I mean, really really hard."

"Aye as herd he liks it harda tha butter."

"With butter? Don't be ridiculous... but then --- knowing him..."

"Noo, 'butter' aye sed. 'Butter! The 'harda za butter!'"

"Ooh I'm starting to feel ill again... I have this vision of knobbly butter slowly melting over flaccid flesh... yeek. Anyway, let's ge back to my point. Why have Clara and the Doctor taken off when you and I are supposedly the Doctor's current companions?"

"Hee noo hus three cumpunyons areporentlee."

"You really should do something about that accent of yours. You sound more like Biffo Banks than a genuine Scotsman."

"I noo! I noo! Und I bee troolee aggreeved aboot eet, ock tha noo by Jimminiy!"

"Well, I'm going off to the Clockwork Cafe. I refuse to be number two woman. It's against my sensibilities."

"The Doctor left instructions not to follow him unless he somehow contacts us for help by means that won't be explained," Thatch said. "I'll have to destroy you if you try to leave."

"Oh shut it, you round headed boob! Do you want to be smacked too?"

"No Miss!" Thatch said quickly seeing the intent in Mrs Figg's eye.

"Come on Petty."

"Boot I canna goo agunst tha Dooktor's will!"

"Shut it!"

"Yuss Muss!"

Presently, Mrs Figg and Petty were on the street, moving from shadow to shadow, moving inevitably in the direction of the Clockwork Cafe. Before long, they were outside that rather salubrious enterprise. They snuck up to the window and peeked in. In the corner they could see the Doctor and Clara sitting at a table. The two got up suddenly, but then all the other patrons stood up. They moved like they were clockwork dolls. The Doctor and Clara sat down again. The Doctor then said something which Mrs Figg and Petty could not hear. It may have been a corny pun for all they knew so it may have been just as well.

"Oh my!" Mrs Figg hissed. "Metal arm-things have come out to grab them -- and they're sinking down into the floor!"

"It's a troop!" Petty gasped. "A troop I say! Wot a turnip for the boots!"



to be continued...

"It's a troop!" Petty gasped. "A troop I say! Wot a turnip for the boots!"

I really should protest about the appalling attempt at Scots dialect by ole Anon, if it werent so bloody funny!

Episode 7


"Quickly, Clara," the Doctor said. "If I drop this thing I've got pressed between my legs I'll get you to give it a quick kick it and I'll grab it on the rebound."

"What thing?"

"This thing."

"Oooooh!"

"What do you mean 'Oooooh'? It's just a sonic screwdriver."

"That's not the first time I've heard that line, you know. And don't think I'm some kind of Amy Pond who gets turned on by a Doctor's sonic screwdriver. Or like Mrs Figg no doubt."

"Is Mrs Figg a clockwork manniken?"

"Not that I know of..."

"Then I have no idea what you're talking about. How could you turn on a real woman with a sonic screwdriver? Quick. It's a matter of life and death. Ready. Keep your eye on my groin. It's all in the wrist action - then you time it to kick it back into my hands."

"It'll be a stiff kick then."

"Stiff as you like, just make it timely."

A moment later the Doctor cried. "Ow! I think that was harder than necessary."

"I bet you it's softer now."

"I really have no idea what you're talking about." Bzzararaa zrrrrp bzzzzp. "Good. We're free."

"Doctor! There's the boss clockman."

"Walk stiffly and don't breathe, Clara!"

"Why?"

"They'll know you're a real girl if you breathe, and not a thing of plastic and creaky metalwork."

"You mean like Mrs Figg?"

"You are certainly bent on living dangerously."

"Me? Or someone else?"

"Never mind that! Here he comes!"    

They had certainly found themselves in a dangerous situation. There were clockwork maniikens all over the place - they had found themselves in a commodious cellar - and also the clockwork half-man who was walking toward them.

"Hold your breath!" the Doctor hissed. He then walked off like a drunk robot toward an open door. Clara made to follow him. But the Doctor inexplicably shut the door in her face.

"Why are you doing that?"

"I'm not sure. Tell me. Am I a good man or a bad?

"You're a Timelord, Doctor, you're not even a man!"

"Oh that's right."

"Doctor. Let me through."

"No, I can't."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Just hold your breath. Yes. Just hold it."
 
The clockwork man approached Clara and she held her breath.

"I could have sworn you were a human girl," the clockwork man said in some confusion. "Oh well, my mistake." The clockwork man stumped off looking for Clara and the Doctor. "I wonder where those two got to. I need some vital body parts and now they've vanished into thin air."

Clara had pretty good lungs, though she did not always wear clothing that revealed them, nonetheless she could not hold her breath forever. There was some rather tense music just then and Clara knew she was in big trouble.



to be continued...




 

"

They'll know you're a real girl if you breathe, and not a thing of plastic and creaky metalwork."

"You mean like Mrs Figg?"

Oi!!

I think we're seeing Clara's bitchy side. I guess Ol' Anon decded she needed some character development.

sumpin like that

Episode 8

Mrs Figg and Petty found a window that looked down into the Living Doll cellar. After brushing away the dust and cobwebs, they peered through panes of dirty Victorian glass.

"Ock the noo!" Petty ocked. "It be Cloora. Why iz shee lookin' soo rudinzafayce aye woonda?"

"Clearly she's holding her Breath. You know, it's like Blink all over again."

"Noot rooly..."

"Shut up!"

"Yus Muss!"

Mrs Figg then did something so uexpected not even a Fjordianlandian Librarian could have expected it. She tapped on the glass.

All the Living Dolls and Clara, alerted by the sound, looked up at her. Then, to Petty's utter dim witted amazement, Mrss Figg started pulling faces. Very amusing faces, yes, but hardly appropriate in the circumstances.... Clara started to giggle, and to do that, she breathed... Oh God!

The Living Dolls realized then that Clara wasn't a Living Doll... well she was, but not a plastic Living Doll with metal rotating bits... and the Living Dolls... the ones that weren't Clara.. turned on her and cut her into manageble bits... an eye for Patsy... a spleen for Dolly... a leg for Aloyisius... that kind of thing. It was a horrendous scene and Petty felt sick in both his stomach and his heart...

"Pooar pooar Cloora!"      

"Terrible shame," Mrs Figg said innocently. "A tragedy!"

Then the Doctor ran into the room and shouted, "No, no - this isn't meant to happen. It's not in the script!"

Trouble was, he had to breathe to shout - and you know what - he was chopped into manageabl bits too... his two hearts turning out to be quite a bonus for the Living Dolls...

Petty sat down in shock on the cobble pavement and cried.

Horror entered Mrs Figg's mind then too.

"Will you pleeeease cross your legs, Petty," Mrs Figg squealed aghast. "Pull down your hems will you. I think I'm going to be ill again."

"Oooh noooo... tha Dooktoor iz dud. He's dud!"

"You're not telling me something I didn't know already. A real dud.. Ooohh! Look! His bits are all tranformationing even as those dolls converse on their particular applications...!"

Mrs Figg suddenly looked pale. Then her face went red.

"Wotz roong Mussus Foog?"

"I feel like twelve men are inside me..." Mrs Figg said faintly.

"Are yoo huvin a vusion... or iz eet thart footbool funtusy agin?"  

"No it's not that footabll fantasy again - and lower your voice when you say it please - it's Victorians walking past... Oh gawwwwd! What's happening to meeeeeeee - eeee?"  

Then she fainted and fell onto the cobble pavement.

"Shee coon tork aboot hems bein akimboo, shee coon!" Petty muttered amid his tears, though his eyes were now fixed on Mrs Figg - or a certain part of Mrs Figg to be precise. "Wull yee loook ut thart gee... may uz wall hoove notting oon!"

Mrs Figg suddenly woke --- but she wasn't Mrs Figg anymore... sort of...

"Petty!" she mouthed weakly.

"Yuss, Mussus Foog?"

"I think... I mean... I don't know... Oh gawd... Yes, it must be! It all makes perfect sense! I'm now the Doctor!"

"You canna be."

"Why ever not?"

"Yooar a wimmun!"

"Hey! Are you looking up my skirt?"

"Itz hoo aye knoo!"  

Mrs Figg tidied herself before speaking again. "I am the first female Doctor. How lovely. Come on. Let's go and find the Tardis. I'm driving!"

"Boot wot aboot tha Luvin Dills?"

Mrs Figg -- sorry... the Doctor got up and slapped Petty's face - hard.

"Well go and get a lot of gellignite and we'll blow up the Clockwork Cafe. That'll stop what they're up to. Quickly now."

"Boot hoow shull aye gut soo mooch jellynite? I havna goot mooch mooney in ma spirrin!"

"Bloody hell! Go steal it! You're a Scotsman aren't you."

And in a trice, the Clockwork Cafe had been blown to smithereens.

As the new Doctor and Petty stood some distance away watching the fiery blaze and plume of black smoke, Petty said, "I cannoot byluve yoo ar thar noo Dooktor!"

"Well I am. Get used to it. And while we're at it..." the Doctor pulled out an Electonic Screwdriver from somewhere. "Come here. Bend over...

"Ooooooch!"

"Now -- speak."

"What do you mean, Doctor?" Petty said painfully as he rubbed his ring.

"Aha! I've heard that all a Scotsman needs is an Electronic Screwdriver rammed up his arse to fix his ridiculous accent, though I've never tried it until now, much as I've often wanted to."

"Oh my. You know, you're right, Doctor!" Petty responded, actually pleased - about the accent change, not so much the sore ring.

The Doctor - formerly Mrs Figg - smiled benignly. "Ahh! Dear dear Petty. You do know that I'm always right, don't you?"


the end...


actually another new Beginning...

What a surprising ending! A female Doctor! Petty without a ridiculous accent! Well, Amarie wanted the unexpected - blame her, I say!

But Ol' Anon is always up for a creative challenge! That's where he differs from other Dr Who writers!

"Aha! I've heard that all a Scotsman needs is an Electronic Screwdriver rammed up his arse to fix his ridiculous accent, though I've never tried it until now, much as I've often wanted to."

"Oh my. You know, you're right, Doctor!" Petty responded, actually pleased - about the accent change, not so much the sore ring.

The Doctor - formerly Mrs Figg - smiled benignly. "Ahh! Dear dear Petty. You do know that I'm always right, don't you?" Anon.


those are the most satisfying words I ever heard in Forumshire.

Typical disgraceful scribblings of Anon!!

I think you mean..

Orwell wrote:Petty without a ridiculous accent!  

from Pettys perspective anyway.

I love these funny, silly, demented tales of unfathomable daftness, makes one feel right at home

Well I'm going to Angmar and Sons about this! See how Ole Anon likes some red hot lawyers up his or her behind! Obviously I should have been the Doctor. I am the man aftar all!

The trial of the century.