Dr Who and the Newark Cult

Episode 1


Though they were never either of them to admit to any such thing later, it was probably both their faults that the Tardis did not get to Dinosaur Planet VII or Georgian Aristocratic England, instead ending up on a mysterious planet on the edge of the universe after they had fought fiercely over the controls. In their defence, Petty did feel he should have been the new Doctor, being a Man and all, and the new Doctor, being a Woman, did think it was about time a Woman was Doctor Who, and it was their different opinions, both valid depending on your Male or Female perspective, that caused the mad knob grabbing and lever pulling and hair tugging and eye punching and angsty pushing of each other (yes, sadly, there was some angsty pushing of each other) that sent them not anywhere near where they indivdually wanted to go.

The Doctor got up from where she was sitting astride Petty's chest and said, "Well that was intelligent wasn't it," as she gingerly touched a tiny raw patch on her head where Petty had tugged out a tuft of her beautiful red hair.

"Well, you should have listened to me, shouldn't you," Petty responded in an aggrieved tone as he rubbed a black eye. (He did still have an accent after all, but it was a nice Anglicized Lowland Scottish brogue fit for sophisticated company).

"I was driving, you know," the Doctor grumbled. "How dangerous it was you trying to take over in mid flight! We could have run into a tree or something, you idiot."

"Well, you were insisting we go and meet a gaggle of Georgian aristocratic fops and enjoy the vista of their overdone architecture! What kind of Man do you think I am to let that happen?"

"I was going to check out the art of the time, you dickwipe! And dinosaurs. Dinosaurs! Oh growwwwwww up!"

"Anyone who is interested in Evolution would give anything to see what dinosaurs really looked like. We only have bones to hypothesize by. Imagine seeing real ones! No more animatronic speculatations. Real ones!"

The Doctor fowned thoughtfully. "You sound almost intelligent now, Petty. I wonder if my electronic screwdriver would work on the whole Scottish race?"

"Grrrrr."

"That's better... Oh well, we're here now. We best make the best of it." The Doctor turned on the monitor-camera-thingee-thing and gasped in delight. "Oh look at the countryside. It's like the Garden of Eden. Hang on -- I'll check the locator-in-space-and-time-thingee. Yep - we're on the easternmost edge of our universe, not far from the next one, which is just as well."

"Why's that?" Petty wanted to know, still rubbing his sore eye.

"It's where the Twenty Eighth Empire rules. Silurian, you know."

"How do you know that?"

The Doctor smiled sweetly. "I am the Doctor."

"Do you still have those twelve Men inside you?" Petty said, which was rather cheap of him I think.

"Yes and no. I have their memories but I'm my own person too. I'm a gentler more thoughtful and far more intelligent, more sophisticated Doctor than any of them."

"How can that be? You're a Woman."

"I'm going to let that pass, I think. Now, about your kilt - you'll have to put on trousers from now on. And a nice shirt too."

"Why?"

"Because there will be no hairy baubles or hairy chest jokes while I'm the Doctor. I myself am going to wear a nice pantsuit today. Fairly tight fitting and feminine, of course, because people will need to know without ambiguity that I'm a Female Doctor, but loose fitting eough so I can kick and karate chop with the best of them - a bit like the Pertwee Doctor, actually, but with a feminine touch, and of course, a much younger and far more atttractive Doctor, that goes without saying."

"So I won't be dressing like a stereotypical Highland Scotsman with hairy legs and knobbly knees and a haggis hanging from me belt?"

"No. I want to be a serious Doctor with a serious companion, even if he's a Scotsman."

Petty mulled over that for a few seconds and actually couldn't find fault with the idea.

About ten minutes later, Petty returned to the Control Room, looking rather suave in his trousers and hiking jacket and stout boots. He figured they were in some knd of Edenlike garden, so he best dress practically while still loooking good. He even had the hair-cutter-machine in his room cut his hair neatly so he looked a bit like Sean Connery.

The Doctor came in about fifty minutes later looking rather spiffy in a nice yellow pantsuit, her hair rather nicely done up with curls at the front and straight at the back. She just had enough makeup on to look exquisite without looking like she was wearing makeup. Her lips were a nice pink gloss.

Petty looked at her and pinkened.

The Doctor pinkened back.

"Are you ready for our first adventure, Petty?" she asked, somewhat demurely.

"Yes, Doctor," Petty said, even more pinkened.

The Doctor then did the most amazing thing any character had ever done in this series of Dr Who tales. She hooked her arm under Petty's arm, smiled up at him, and they walked out the door of the Tardis, almost like they were lovers or something.




to be continued....

First!

{{{I'm not sure I like the direction this one is going in.}}}

I know I dont. TROUSERS!

Some people are impossible to please! What next, Mrs Figg not wanting to have a hot and sweaty sex scene with you, Petty? I mean to say...

Not until she has scrubbed my barrel!

If that's your attitude, I don't like your chances -- not that I liked your chances anyway.

Mind you, that's a 'real world' view I have, and this is a story (where neither you nor Mrs Figg really have any say), so you might yet just get a bit lucky Petty... Though having Mrs Figg scrub your barrel is so far fetched I don't think even a great (and humble) writer like Ol' Anon could get away with it. We'll see.

Episode 2


"Eden!" the Doctor trilled happily. "It's truly like Eden."  

Petty, though not altogether sure about having a Doctor who trilled, had to agree. "It's truly beautiful, Doctor. Like there is a God who created a perfect paradise."

"That's the Living Spirit you mean I imagine, strange People of the Blue Police Box," Clara said as she brushed through some lucious jubejube bushes in flower.

"Clara!" Petty exclaimed.

"Do I know you?"

"I am Petty. Don't you remember me?"

"Oh sorry, have we met before?"  

"Petty... Petty.. I mean... ock tha noo and all." Petty blushed.

"What a very queer exclamation. But no - I'm sure I'd remember something like that. But you do seem to remember me. And this lady here in the rather brash yellow pantsuit - your name is?"

"I have no name except 'The Doctor'" the Doctor grimaced.

"Doctor who?"

"Yes, that's right."

"No - that can't be right," Clara said and laughed softly with what may have been the most miniscule suggestion of tactful scorn. "Dr Who is always a man."

"Not anymore he's not."

"Incredible!"

"What do you mean by íncredible'?"

"I mean 'not credible', dear lady..." Then:  " David! David!"

"Who's David?" the Doctor wanted to know.

"Yes, Jenna?" David Tennant enquired as he made his way past a moogmoog pedestal tree in full leaf. "Oh what have we here?"

"This female stranger is claiming to be Dr Who."

David laughed.

"Oi!" the Doctor said, clenching her fists.

"Sorry, my dear lady," David said, "but it's just I thought Jenna here was saying you claimed to be Dr Who. That of course is impossible. The writers - mostly Gay - you know - won't have a bar of it."

"Ol' Anon isn't Gay," the Doctor said angrily. "Well, he says he's not anyway. So a female Doctor is more than feasible."

"Ol' Anon? Not one of ours I'm afraid!" David laughed again. "I better bring Stephen in. Stephen! Stephen!"  

Petty whispered to the Doctor. "He's kind of Gay himself when he calls out like that."

"Oh yes, dearie," came the reply as Stephen Moffat sauntered out from under the arching canes of a hubbyhubby vine growing above a booboobooboo bush not yet sprung, it being still Winter however mild and sunny. "Oh my! Who's this then?"

"They say it's the Doctor, Stephen," Jenna informed him.

"No, no, can't be. I was head writer until yesterday. Though this Sean Connery type could easily fit the role... But no, no... Defnitely not any Doctor according to the BBC franchise."

"I'm the Doctor!" the Doctor complained.

Stephen giggled. So did David a bit. Jenna raised her eyebrows ever so slightly and smiled wanly.

"Where are we anyway?" the Doctor wanted to know bad temperedly. "And what are you all doing here?"      

"This is New Eden on the planet Newark," Jenna informed her. "You see, whenever an actor finishes his or her role in the Dr Who series, the current Producer abducts them and puts them in suspended animation and sends them here so we can live in a paradise for ever and ever in perfect bliss as we derserve for being in such a great family show bringing joy to millions. Occasionally, of course, he puts some in a ballisticon-tube that he sends through a wormhole timewarp-field, which (I hope) explains how Stephen got here so quickly."      

Petty was unconviced. Then a uneasy thought occurred to him. "Is Amy Pond here too?"

Jenna frowned ever so slightly. "I'm afraid so. And Chris Ecclestone and Tom Baker too. They sit in a kropkrop thicket day in day out complaining about not wanting to be here."

"So you're saying Dr Who is a television series?" the Doctor asked.

"Of course it is," Jenna smiled, her lips having the faintest hint of a sarcastic curl.

"That's it!" Petty expostulated slapping his forehead. "Of course!"

"What?" the Doctor wanted to know.

"They must be cyborgs! And this is some kind of theme park..."

"Why is it always cyborgs with you, dear Petty?" the Doctor proffered affectionately. "I suppose there'll be dinosaurs too."

Petty smiled. "Oh you sweet cheeky Doctor you. No, I don't expect dinosaurs. But isn't it obvious? We have all the actors from the BBC Dr Who series here. What else can it be but a Dr Who theme park?"

"On a Planet on the other side of our universe?"

"Well, that bit's a little harder to reconcile..."    

"Oh you and your delightful flights of fancy, Petty... Now, you people, tell me what's going on. You've been sent to this Planet as reward for being Dr Who actors, is that right?"

"Indeed," Stephen said. "And writers, directors, costume designers. Need I go on?"

"And you're not cyborgs?" Petty asked petulantly.

"Not at all," Jenna laughed. "I'm all soft flesh and curves and beaming beauty.... Nor dinosaurs either, you delightful Scotsman."

Petty couldn't help but smile back at the bonnie lass.

The Doctor frowned. "This business about the planet being called 'Newark'... What's that about?"

"Well, you see, it's like this is the New Ark," David smiled. "We even have our own Bible."

"Yes," Jenna put in demurely. "It's the Bible According to Stephen Moffat. You see, our Living Spirit isn't a paternal Godlike figure but The Trispirit; that is: the Spirit of the Male, Female and Third Persuasion. It's a planet free of prejudice, you see. Our Living Spirit loves every living human - even transexuals."

"And where do transexuals fit into the scheme?" the Doctor asked, unconvinced about this new religion.

"Wherever they want," Jenna said, clapping her hands in joyfulness. "You can be whatever sex or sexuality you want. You see, the Living Spirit has set us free of all ridiculous mortal cares, even if Chris and Tom are being painful about it. Well, I guess they're free too."

The Doctor and Petty looked at each other blankly.

After a moment, the Doctor said, "There is a mystery involved here and I'm just the Doctor to work it out."

"I bet it will be cyborgs in the end," Petty persisted. "It nearly always is."

"But don't you see, sweet Petty," the Doctor said taking his hands in hers and squeezing them ever so gently. "Ol' Anon is not the kind of writer to go for such cheap and cheesy explanations."

That, of course, remains to be seen.



to be continued...  

Interesting! Sounds awfully Australian or something though.

"Eden!" the Doctor trilled happily. "It's truly like Eden."

First time I've ever heard someone say that about Newark.

And there's Ol' Anon thinking he invented that planet!

Episode 3


"When you're finished staring besottedly into each others eyes," Jenna intervened. "Perhaps I could take you to meet The Leader."

The Doctor and Petty bashfully let go of each other.

"Who is this Leader you refer to?" the Doctor asked.

"Oh that must be a surprise," Jenna said. "Come along now."

Jenna lead them through a copse of the pinkest pink googlygum you have ever seen - the red googlygum grew better southaways in the tropics -  and after passing by a pond full of gold leaved wreakerwreakers and web-toed gobblebunkers paddling idly, reached a rather ornate pergola of crumblewood over which was draped a huge spreading pigglygiggly fern pockmarked with bright orchidbunger flowers, mostly yellow, but some magenta.

"This is such a delightful place," the Doctor said as she stopped to sniff the heady scent of a yellow orchidbunger. "I have no idea what these are but they are delightful.  What are they called, Jenna? Are they from Earth?"

"That's the yellow orchidbunger, my lady. But I have no idea where they're from. Some say William Hartnell brought them from Little Wiggin in '72, and some say they were already here when he arrived. All I know is he is extremely fond of them. No, he's never told me if they were from Earth or not. I must ask, you know."

"Is William Hartnell here?" Petty asked in some excitement. "I thought he was dead."

"You mustn't believe everything you read, Petty," Jenna smiled. "On Newark no one ever dies."

"Is that because cyborgs don't die?" Petty asked quickly and with some cunning, as he thought suddenly to elicit further information to support his cyborg theory.

"Oh no," Jenna smiled again. "Cyborgs can die you know. They are partly human remember."

Petty scratched his chin thoughtfully and said, "You know - you're right."

"You don't know everything," the Doctor smiled at him affectionately. "Even I knew cyborgs were only half machine. And of course I know too because I'm the Doctor."

"Of course you are," Jenna smiled with the barest shimmer of sarcasm in her lovely eyes.

"I only hope you turn out to be evil, you know," the Doctor smiled back just as sweetly.  

"Why ever would you think that?" Jenna asked, a flash of hardest steel momentarily in her eyes before a sunny hazeldew replaced it.

"You'll see soon enough if you are," the Doctor said as she secretly fingered the flick knife she now carried in a pocket of her yellow pantsuit.

Jenna laughed gaily - in the old fashioned sense - and proceeded on through the pergola and out onto a virginal white cobbled path that meandered through a purple cascade of trailing lassoolassoo vines not yet in flower.

"Did you see that flash of hardest steel in her eyes, Petty?" the Doctor whispered urgently in Petty's ear. "Just before they got all hazeldewy?"

"Hazeldewy?" Petty asked, confused, and who could blame him?

"Yes, my thoughts exactly," the Doctor nodded as if confirming something in her mind, her own eyes taking on that steely gaze Petty remembered from a past existence which usually preceded a fierce verbal outburst and as often a punch in the eye.

"Are you going to kill her?" he asked.

"I don't know. I just don't know..." the Doctor mused. "Quickly now. She'll soon be out of sight under those rather lovely purple trailing plants."

By the time they caught up with the lovely Jenna, she was standing waiting for them outside a huge Aztec-like temple smothered in blue moogamoss and thorny aqualichen.

"Go on inside," Jenna smiled welcomingly, "and there you will meet The Leader."

"I suspect a trap!" Petty cried suddenly. "I don't think we should go in."

"Of course it's a trap, Petty my dear," the Doctor said calmly. "But I am Dr Who and walking into traps is what I do." She turned to the handsome Scotsman and added, "But if you are too a'feared to enter, sweet sweet Petty, you can wait here for my return, as I will of course, being The Doctor, return."

"I can't let you do that. If you're going to be killed, I will be killed with you!" Petty said gallantly.

"Oh sweet sweet sweetest Petty," the Doctor sighed. "You are soooo sweet. Come. We'll hold hands."

And so they did. Hand in hand like schoolyard lovebirds they entered the temple.



to be continued...

Blech! So much sweetness!

''The Doctor fowned thoughtfully. "You sound almost intelligent now, Petty. I wonder if my electronic screwdriver would work on the whole Scottish race?" Anon

well it might work on half of them.


lovin this, carry on..

Episode 4


As they walked into the entry hall, they were suffused in translucent blue light, not bright and yet bright enough. Along the wall on both sides were large glass cases with humanlike figures in them. They moved across to appraise one more closely. Inside was a man of indiscriminate age with tattooes on his brawny arms.

"He almost looks alive but waxy at the same time," the Doctor said thoughtfully.  

"My thoughts exactly. Like a man dipped in wax and so preserved for all time in a kind of suspended animation. Look. There is a plaque on the bottom of the glass casing."

The Doctor bent to take a closer look while Petty admired the smooth line of her pink throat and the curve of her left buttock.

"It says: 'Lancebloke: Man of Mystery.' How mysterious!"

"I remember that name from somewhere. Famous story writer from Zoobaloomanaloom Planet in the Pyrexis Galaxy. Fancy finding him being kept here in waxy preservation!"

"Oh yes. I remember. He wrote an incredibly mysterious piece I read once. You were in it, Petty. And so was Mrs Figg - the girl I used to be! And some chap called 'Éldorion'. Yes I do remember. He was the 'Lord of the Tower of Many Deep Thoughts.' It was on Gormorant IV - a planet in the Excelesior Quadrant! I wonder.. yes, look. The next case." The Doctor bent to read another plaque. "Yep! Eldorion himself."

"I wonder why he's wearing hotpants?"

"We may never know, dear Petty. We may never know."

"Amarie!" Petty exclaimed. "She was the other one mentioned in the mysterious tale of which we've been thinking."

"Look! 'Amarie: Librarian Lilliput of Scattykatzenberg and Mother of Two.'"

"The plot thickens."

"I wonder what it all means."

"Who knows yet. There is some possibility we may never know either. If I remember correctly I only ever read Chapter One of Lancebloke's Great Mystery. If only I had not had to flee the Peruvian Menace so soon I may have had time to read the rest of it."

"I seem to have had the same experience!"

"Amazing!"

"So what now?"

"Let's check out the other cases."

"Tinuviel the Noseful!" Petty said.

"David the Vegetable Guy,'"  the Doctor cooed from the other side of the entrance hall.

"Ázriel the Unreal'!"

"'Halfwise son of Halfwit'!"

"What a mystery it all is," Petty opined.

"So you've come then at last, have you?" drawled a smooth Ameican male voice.

From opposite sides of the entrance hall the Doctor and Petty's eyes joined at the same spot. At the top of some stairs at the end of the entrance hall stood a figure clad all in black wearing a balaclava or mask of some sort.

"He sounds like Robert Downey Junior," the Doctor opined.

The disguised figure stared at them for a moment, as if he had lost the power of speech, but then said, rather hurriedly really, "I  am The Leader. Robert Downey Junior. Poo. I have never heard of him."

"No, I'd know that voice anywhere," the Doctor said.

"Don't be ridiculous! I am The Leader. And you've fallen into my trap!" And The Leader started to laugh in a hysterical over-performed manner.

"I think you're right," Petty said, frowning in distaste. "It is Robert Downey Junior!"



to be continued....  

What a "turnip for the boots!"

'turn up for the books' its a saying, dont ask me what it means, its something to do with being suprised.

Perhaps?
http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/turn-up-for-the-books.html

that sounds logical

Episode 5

The disguised figure stared at them for a moment, as if he had lost the power of speech, but then said, rather hurriedly really, "I am The Leader. Robert Downey Junior. Poo. I have never heard of him."

"No, I'd know that voice anywhere," the Doctor said.

"Don't be ridiculous! I am The Leader. And you've fallen into my trap!" And The Leader started to laugh in a hysterical over-performed manner.

"I think you're right," Petty said, frowning in distaste. "It is Robert Downey Junior!"

The Doctor frowned. “Well, here’s one of your 'turnips for the boots', Petty my dear.”

“Oh but contrare,” Petty said urbanely. “It’s a turn up for the books on this occasion. Whoever could have expected Robert Downey Junior? Peter Jackson – yes maybe – but Robert Downey Junior – never!”

“Stop talking!”  Robert Downey Junior instructed them coolly. “I am about to tell you your horrid fate!”

“Do you mind very much?” the Doctor addressed him politely. “I need to understand something… Now Petty, isn’t a turnip for the boots the selfsame thing as a turn up for the books?”

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s why I said ‘Oh but contrare’ just a moment ago in a very urbane fashion.”

“Now Petty, as you know only too well, I would never wish to disagree with you on any subject, certainly not violently, but I think they are the same thing.”

“I should never wish to contradict you Doctor, and readily it’s never my desire, but on this rare occasion, out of pure intellectual integrity, I need offer a contradictory argument.”

“I would expect nothing else from you. Please explain.”

“It will need some background. You see, it all stems from a not widely known cultural fact about Scotsmen and Scotswomen and the stout long wearing boots we all wear. The stout long wearing boots, you can well imagine, saves money in the long run.”

“Boots? I never knew you all wore boots.”

“Not many – except Scots – do know. The foreign eye does tend to descend no further than the Scottish knee, which present quite a sight beneath the hem of our kilts.”

“The Scottish knee is rather eye-catching!”

“Just so! Anyway, you may not also know that the Scots always carry a turnip down the side of their boots which are elasticized for the purpose.”

"Elasticized turnips?"

“No - boots."

“Well my goodness me. Turnips down your boots! You mean, always?”

"Always."

“Well, I say, I just had no idea....”

“Which is perfectly understandable, Doctor. It is a deep Scottish secret, but you of all people I think I can trust with it...”

“Do you people mind?” Robert grumbled. “I mean – this is my trap. I mean – I am an evil genius and I…”

”Please,” the Doctor told him sternly. “Evil genius or not, there is no need to interrupt so rudely. Go ahead, Petty my sweet.”

“The Scots - as you’re no doubt aware - " Petty continued. " - are quite thrifty and so we carry a turnip in our boots whenever we’re out and about, just in case we feel the urge to have a snack – convenience stores and greengrocers being so expensive…”

“Yes, quite sensible.”

“So we carry a turnip from our gardens around with us in our boots just in case of an attack of sudden peckishness.”

“Don’t tell me,” the Doctor exclaimed in delight. “I think I’ve sorted it out! Tell me, is this it? You Scots being all such thieves – though never from your own, just the English – you keep your turnips secreted in your books because you believe that all foreigners are thieves too. The English, of course, not even being aware you wear boots, let alone keep your turnips there, won’t ever think to steal your turnips.”

“You are not only beautiful, Doctor, you’re razor sharp as well.”

“You know, I really think....”

“Shut up, Robert! I’ll not tell you again!”
“Yes, Miss.”

“Now Petty, now that we’ve sorted that bit out, what about the saying? How does it all tie in?”

“Well, the problem with Scots – as you know – is we have a very short attention span, presumably because of our generally low intelligence, and if we don’t feel a sudden peckishness during the day we will at the end of the day return home and take off our boots and place them by our bed just out of reach of our pigs and goats…”

“Oh I think I can predict the next part too!” the Doctor exhaled excitedly. “Please, please – can I guess?”

“Of course you can, my intelligent poppet!”

“Well, if I’ve got this right, if a Scotsman, being a species of human – loosely speaking – with a very low IQ, he would almost always forget that he had left a turnip in his boot.”

“Unless, dearest of Doctors, we get peckish in the night.”

“No doubt… and so in the morning, when putting on their boots he would exclaim – possibly with a loud expletive thrown in – that there was a turnip in his boots! And so following on, naturally this has become your National saying.”

“Just so!”

“So – correct me if I’m wrong – when a Scotsman (or Scotswoman) exclaims: ‘What a turnip for the boots!’ he (or she) is merely uttering surprise at a unexpected turn of events that only a Scotsman (or Scotswoman) could ever see as a an unexpected turn of events! Anyone else with half a brain – not being Scottish - would see it coming. This is not to suggest or hint that Ol’ Anon would ever be predictable with his cliff hangers but is in fact an outright assertion.”  

“Just so!”

“My goodness,” grinned the Doctor looking lovingly upon her clever Scotsman’s intelligent handsome face, realizing just how fortunate she was to have as her companion such a rare kind of Scotsman who anthropologists had long speculated were extinct – and sometimes doubted ever existed. “How obvious it all is when one knows.”

“Look, I’ve had enough of this,” Robert Downey Junior snarled. “Put up your hands! Reach for the sky!”

The Doctor and Petty swung around to see that Robert had a gun pointed at them.

“Now there’s a turnip for the boots!” the Doctor said wearily as she and Petty reached for the sky.

Loved the dialogue Almost Tom Stoppard worthy ?

Wow, they're both beggining to sound a bit like me.

Episode Six


"Enough of your clever one liners, Doctor, prepare to be despatched!"

"Is that a shotgun?" Petty asked.

"It is - and quite a retro twist I think."

"Well then," Petty said with a smile. "That means you only have one shot!"

Roberts eyes showed momentary confusion. But then he snarled evily, "So who will I shoot then?"  

Petty stopped smiling. He looked at the Doctor. And his heart felt a welling of chivalric courage. "Shoot  me," said he.

"No - he better shoot me," the Doctor said. "I am, after all, the important one. Clearly the one Robert wants to kill most, being the Doctor and all and not a mere comapnion."

"Nooo!" Petty cried and jumped gallantly in front of her.

"Why did you have to do that?" Robert asked in consternation. "Get out of the way."

"No. Never!" Petty cried gallantly.

Robert lowered his shotgun and his eyes blazed vexedly.

"I might have an answer to your dilemna, Robert," the Doctor said easily.

"What do you suggest?" Robert asked suspecting a trap.

"Well, if you have sword handy..."

"I do!" Robert proclaimed pulling one out of somewhere.

"... then we could go to single combat."

"But you haven't got a sword," Petty exclaimed. "Unless you've got one hidden somewhere like Robert?"

"No, not a sword - a flick knife!" And the Doctor drew her weapon with a grand flourish.

"Well I didn't see that coming," Petty exclaimed, impressed. "But he still does have a sword... Ummm.. Doctor. That's a spoon."  

"Oh it is too. Oh well, it'll just have to do. Stand aside Petty my sweet."

"You can't fight a sword with a spoon, Doctor!"

"But sweetie, don't you remember Robin of Sheerobot?"

"I do," Petty smiled suddenly. Feeling more confident, he stepped away.

"Before we begin," Robert said, his eyes alive with glee at the Doctor's apparent foolishness. "I would like to know one thing."

"And that is?" the Doctor asked politely.

"Where did you pull that spoon from?"  

"A gentleman wouldn't ask a lady a question like that!" Petty defended her gallantly.

"Now Petty, thank you, but I really think you should let me handle this... Robert, dear, I merely pulled it from my waistcoat pocket. Funny thing to say, I cleanly forgot I left my flick knife in my other outfit before I changed into this delightful pantsuit."

"But why would there be a spoon in your waistcoat pocket?" Robert pressed.

The Doctor frowned. "You know, that's a very good question, actually..."

"I know!" Petty exclaimed gallantly. "That must be one of Patrick Troughton's pantsuits. I've only seen him wear them in black and white, but that one's in colour, which is why I didn't recognise it before now. Look in the other waistcoat pocket."

"Oh dear. There's another spoon."

Petty looked very smug just then. "I told you so."

"Oh dear... it explains the old and stale masculine sweaty smell I detected around my groin and armpit areas," the Doctor averred uneasily. "Eeewwww... and to think I thought it was me.... but anyhow --- Look Robert! Two spoons! Still want to fight?"  

"Spoons? Do you think me afraid of spoons? Prepare to defend yourself!"  

"Watch out, Petty!" the Doctor cried with the reflexes of a she-cat, pushing her gallant companion forcefully out of the way. She jumped foward like a lioness defending her cub. "Watch out for the razor clawed Pussycat," she cried, pressing the feline analogies perhaps one step too far.

Robert ran forward and a fierce bit of heavy metal on metal occurred. Clang! Calank! Plang! The two combatants fought back and forth across the room, and after some devilshly cunning sword play, and some even more adroit spoonery, the evil Robert Downey Junior at last lunged at the Doctor, and the Doctor parried just in time, and the blade of Robert's sword somehow turned at right angles and stabbed him through the heart. He dropped dead.

"It gives me no satisfaction to see his life juices pour out so," the Doctor said in fatalistic almost Shakespearian fashion, the beating hearts beneath her breasts making them rise and fall in a rather fetching manner as she caught her breath and Petty watched. "I really don't like killing people, Petty dear - well, most people.. well, some people..."

"It was only Robert Downey Junior," Petty said pragmatically from where he sat against a glass case after landing there when the Doctor pushed him out of the way.

"True," the Doctor had to agree. "True."


to be continued...  



   

!

Perhaps it's just me, but aren't we getting close to final irrefutable proof here that a female Doctor would work?

At least with Figg playing him err.. her.

As long as we don't say it in front of Petty - of course it would!

Oh, let him play the companion and I'm sure he wouldn't complain.