Friday, August 29, 2008

No Fist!

Tonight's episode of Double The Fist was without doubt the weakest and most pathetic episode that this fine show has ever hurled directly at the unprotected faces of its spineless audience. The fact the end credits tried to sneak out three minutes into the plot rather at the end of the episode itself per se showed that even this non-corporeal editing was sicked and ashamed by the poor quality of this irredeemably wretched experience.

There is not a single part of this episode that does not supurate with weakness of the first order. This episode of DTF was not focussed on betterment through extremity, or improving the fistworthiness of ordinary Australians. It was about selling furniture. Ooh, deep! To see Steve Foxx reduced to a cheese-eating surrender monkey in a tuxedo backing down from every single bit of opposition and steadfastly refusing to get involved in the mission turned my stomach. If there wasn't such a thing as hatred, I'd have nothing but pity for this one-fine figure reduced to a useless, subhuman no fist loser who is not prepared to deal with those full-fisted enough to disrespect his puny excuse for authority.

If the weak dog in charge of this mess was SO fussed about selling furniture, maybe he could have got off his pampered ass for five minutes, gone to Thailand and sorted it all out, but Steve "No Longer Worthy of My Love" Foxx needed some corrupt and fragile pro-wrestler named after a one-eyed army recruitment officer from Nordic legend to do his job for him. Foxxy was far too busy prostituting himself to a bunch of stuffed shirts unable and unwilling to get out of their non-decapitating chairs and waving fake money... which Foxx accepted.


This episode was a waste of time with its devotion to such pathetic concepts as character development. Mephisto, who two weeks ago cut off the face of his own school friend as a sign of his absolute dedication to the eradication of weakness, now has a panic attack and blubbers on youtube. A man quite willing to stab his co-contestants through the spine with a knife simply snivelled at Foxx (you don't deserve the name Steve, you weak, spineless dog) as his retarded, useless and impotent yes impotent brother was unable to even use mindless nepotism to get "Man of Fist".

What's more, with Womp, Mephisto, Rod, Tara, Panda and Mime Boy having been insulted and tormented by Foxx in this episode, I consider it the hieght of weakness that they let this fat, balding has-been get away with deciding who should be involved. Foxx has lost the very quality that made us want to watch his revoltingly ugly and inherently worthless exploits in the first place, and all that is left is an overweight yuppie bullying his trusted viewers into buying dodgy products.

If I were to WANT to watch a series of pointless, ill-thought out mission of random half-scary child nightmares experienced by a gang of intellectually subnormal backstabbing emotional cripples ruled by a pathetic killjoy with delusions of even vague competence while acting like a complete arsehole to everyone he meets, then I will simply put on a VHS of Torchwood.


PS: if Steve shows this retarded, backward-looking weakness next week and is unchalenged, I will be forced to firebomb Prawn World and no cartoon-fantasy-land "death doesn't last for a scene" magic will be able to save these losers. Alan Rickman and his terrorists have proved their double-fistedness UNAPPOSED!


Monday, August 25, 2008

Well now...

I don't really want to write this. It's not that it's upsetting or anything, I just have no desire to blog for some reason. But I'll do it anyway. Because Spara's updated his blog (which I can barely look at as it causes my computer to splutter) and instead put something vaguely interesting rather than "ooh woe, absinthe gives me a hangover". Get over it, you drunk! I only had one hangover in my entire life (and it was probably food poisoning after I ate a potplant... what a party that was!) and I did not complain. Oh yeah, even when my skull has shattered and been put back together wrong, my moral highground doesn't waver.

Let me tell you about Lewis Hall. Lewis Hall is... well, to be blunt, a guy I know. He's a "friend" of my dad. In the sense he's a completely idiotic dickhead my dad can't seem to get rid off - rather like Blackadder and Percy. And, well don't think I'm bigging myself up here, he considers me an intellectual threat. More to the point, he considered me an intellectual threat when I was seven. He got the impression I despised him. And I didn't. I didn't give him enough thought to despise him, and he was kind enough to bring food around like some pagan offering to a god. Despite the fact he has a full life (compared to me anyroads), he seems desperate to hang around my parents. I know of one occasion where he drove to our neck of the woods and just went around the block in circles until someone was home. It's more sad than creepy and I have endeavoured to be as polite and friendly as possible to the guy. I'm a real softie due to my shoddy emotional empathy (oh, Johnny Howard, why? WHY??!), so I think it's the least I can do.

But, anyway, on Friday he comes round with a DVD he's burned - the Rolling Stones film. My dad likes the Rolling Stones, but not a real obsession. Lewis though uses this as a basis of all communication, as if we can only think in terms of Mick an Keef. Anyway, I put it into the living room DVD player... and it spits it out, saying it cannot be read.

This is by no means unusual - like most technology in my house, the DVD player has a personality. It chooses seemingly at random at what it wants to play. Thirteen episodes of Torchwood seemed to be the final straw, and after Planet of the Ood decided to put a bouncer into what would and wouldn't play. Sometimes it would change its mind. Twice.

Anyway, I go to the dining area with the DVD player there (oh, what decadence) and try it there. The machine switches off and smoke starts pouring out it... which is by every means unsusual. So, as I look at the DVD player doing its very best impression of the Torchwood Hub, I demand to know what the hell is up with this disc? Lewis reveals he got it from Mexico and hasn't tried it out yet. I reveal he's blown up my bloody DVD player. He laughs like a stoner. My dad however can tell I am, how shall we say, not happy with this.

I try and prise the top off the DVD player and slide out the disc. Lewis continues to giggle at this, despite the fact that basically he's screwed up our little lifestyle - apart from everything else, the ex-DVD player was the one that played everything the proper-DVD player wouldn't. This means we basically cannot watch any DVDs or even TV in the kitchen area. On a Friday Night. At the end of Book Week (far more important than Vashta Nerada for librarians believe you me). With Double the Fist on.

Lewis looks at me and with that wonderful monosyllable "So?" pretty much makes me snap.



I held up his precious DVD betwixt my thumb and forefinger and I began to squeeze. After seven seconds it splintered into four irregular shards. Not saying a word I dropped the shards atop his greying curly hair, turned and left to tidy up the remains. In the next room I hear the conversation rather awkwardly return... mostly on the fact I had taken the Leatherman (a sort of swiss army knife with a very sharp knife attachment) with me and was not in a happy mood.

Lewis left shortly afterwards.

I stress it was his attitude that pissed me off. Blowing up DVD players by accident, well, that's life. It refused to play Robin Hood anyway. I could cope with that. But he just seemed to think that wrecking a chunk of my home was a source of amusement. And this is a guy who my dad told me, minutes before entering our house, was throwing empty beer bottles onto the railway line. Not very mature behaviour for a schoolteacher, huh?

So. We now have a new DVD player. One that works 100%. And has black buttons marked in black on a black background that light up black... and we have a set top box. Similar black marked in black. We can now watch ABC2. Not that there's anything wrong. Bar the ability to see a few jazz concerts and Double the Fist a day early, I'd call it an expensive and pointless paperweight.

Well, quite. I can't think of a moral or a point to this. Except it amazed my dad who took great, great pleasure in retelling it to my mum... with a couple of additions like me trying to slit Lewis' throat, force feeding him the broken DVD, and literally throwing him out the front door with a litany of death threats based upon a speech from Tom Jones (not the singer, the book).


I've nearly finished my manga picture of Empire of the Daleks ("Is that poofter supposed to be the Doctor?" my dad sneered goodnaturedly of my Manga-Coburn Doc).

The only other really interesting thing was me finding a youtube vid of a strange stage musical that begins with Captain Jack Harkness finding three Movellans in his bedroom dancing to KLF's Doctor in the Tardis... and joining in with a camp display that would put Paul Darrow and Kieth Allan to shame.

And there's no answer to that, is there?

Friday, August 15, 2008

A Critical Analysis of A Critical Analysis

Blake's 7 is a show that concerns the little guy battling City Hall...

John "Living In Fantasyland" Kenneth Muir's A History And Critical Analysis of Blake's 7 The 1978-1981 British Television Space Adventure is one of the stupidest books in existence. It set me back $94 for a poorly-printed paperback slightly thicker than the average Terrance Dicks novelization, and its crudely-printed photos were of ANYTHING except Blake's 7. Unable to remortgage my house to his A History And Critical Analysis of Doctor Who The 1963-1981 British Television Time And Space Adventure (AKA Peter Davison Sucks Big Time and The Daleks Represents The British Attacking The Freedom of America), I had to settle for his opinions of my second-favorite sci-fi show.

For a book with a title like that you would expect some modicum of self-restraint and composure in the set text but you'd be wrong. This madman can't even caption a fan sketch of a spaceship without losing it and blowing his load all over his typewriter: Roj Blake's magnificent spaceship the Liberator sets sail for freedom. Be no doubt, if someone said something like that in the actual show, Avon would have shot them dead and Blake would have applauded. "Down with the Federation!" he shrieks at the end of his introduction, where he mentions Star Trek twice in the first paragraph before actually turning to the subject of the whole freaking book. Indeed, "Why Star Trek Sucks!" would be a more honest title for this book. In any given section there's twice the reference to Gene Roddenberry's moneyspinner than to Terry Nation's pocketliner, and the author never once gives the impression he's watched any of it more than once. In fact, if I were to discover Muir was bluffing this entire book based on something that was played in the background of a sci-fi convention, it would explain a lot - from the huge, HUGE mistakes, blunders and wrong turns he makes, to the padding it out with Enterprise-hatred. The wealth of spelling mistakes and factual errors I won't bore you with but even at its worst, at least Liberation was talking about a show it had watched properly the first time.

The rear of the book is made up of essays by a bunch of useless jerks who clearly thought rabitting on about Blake's 7 would be easy cause hardly anyone knew about it. The fact is, if you survive the introduction, you don't really NEED to face treatises like Science Fiction's First Video Novel, A Futuristic Robin Hood Myth, A Note on Special Effects and Cinematography, or the very, very appropriately titled Anti-Star Trek. Even the interesting-sounding Sex on the Liberator (they were all prudes on Scorpio, you know) is a let down - unless you need a lurid description of every snog and gender-based society, it's only interesting for three pages of "You know, I could be wrong but I think Avon might be bonking Cally".

Rather than letting any decent Blake's 7 waste their hard-earned/ill-gotten cash on this book whose quality of paper makes even using it as toilet tissue worthless, I'll summarize the essays behind each episode:

The direction in this rocks much better than Doctor (spit) Who! Lots of flashbacks and shit! Terry Nation is GOD! Much better than Encounter at Farpoint!

Fuck me, the Liberator looks cool! Avon's in it... a bit. And this whole thing is a rip off of Forbidden Planet.

It's all about Christianity, do you see?! And Blake nearly falls over when he teleports - you NEVER see realism like that in Star Trek! And I can prove it with lots of ST trivia, you were warned! I'll do it! Blood and guts and stuff! Oh, it's so CYNICAL!

Wow, Blake takes a nap! You never see that in Star Trek - unlike the rest of the plot which has been done everywhere! But the best bit is that its' so rubbishly-written, it makes the monsters MYSTERIOUS! Wow, Ted! Troi and Geordie rip off Cally and Gan! It's not just a quarry, it's a RED quarry!!

Hah! Fuck your Prime Directive, Star Trek, this is DRAMA!! Oh, the symbolism! The subtext! It's all ripped off Space: 1999, but it still counts! The Borg totally stole the idea of self-repairing technology, cause Terry Nation thought of it first, I HAVE WITNESSES!!!

Meh, Time Squad was better. So it has Servalan and Travis - so fucking what? I forget what the planet's called anyway (Kentucky or something?). Travis needs to get a life, who cares about your face, it was four years ago. Cally is shit at fighting. This is only worth a page.

It's like, I dunno, a murder mystery! WOW! Here, let me spoil it for you AGAIN. Avon's vaguely interesting!

This is a rip off of ST: Arena, I admit it. And The Outer Limits. And Space: 1999. And Buck Rogers. And ST: TNG.... but did THOSE losers have Mutoids? I think not!

Travis sucks. He's worse than the Master in Doctor (spit) Who. What is this, The Fugitive? This is better than Seek-Locate-Destroy, but it is vaguely similar and thus I hate it. I hate it so much. I have to get up early in the morning just to hate it properly. Mind you, heh, that bit with Avalon stripped naked - SEKSAAAYY!! It's like The Fifth Element! I think I need to go the toilet...

This is the most lavish and impressive Blake's 7 episode that must have used up the whole budget for special effects! Yes, I REALLY wrote that! Why? It doesn't have Travis in it! HAHAHAHHA! Mind you, you do tend to see this in Star Trek every so often. Zen has a personality, though, you never see that in Star Trek, do you? Does the Enterprise ever have a hissy fit and shut down? I think not! Oh and if you don't like the gravity vortex thing, blame Picard, he ripped this off!!

Blake smashes stuff! Awesome! You wouldn't see THAT in Star Trek, would you? Wierd Space Arabs! Cool! You think Jenna and Blake are shagging? This is the best episode ever!!

Boring. Apart from Meegat the kinky bitch. Travis sucks slightly less. Avon does stuff - whatever. Holy Shit! Gan makes a continuity reference to an episode! HOLD THE FRONT PAGE!

I love this episode. It may have a quarry pretending to be a beach with really bad stock footage. It may have Travis dubbing in his voice cause the actor sprained his ankle. It might have the least convincing explosions ever. It may have them NOT kill Servalan and Travis which is so fucking stupid I ate the television in my disgust. But it has one of those lizards dude played by a man named Muir. This can do no wrong.

This is the best episode of Blake's 7 ever - I was lying the last three times I said this. Hah, they're all screwed! Hang on, none of this makes sense! But the Borg rip it off, so it must be good.

This isn't by Terry Nation, ergo it is complete shit. Blake is MEAN all of a sudden! He's supposed to be a bland, one-dimensional hero, dammit! STOP TRYING TO MAKE HIM INTERESTING! Oh, look, alien invasion! We know nothing about it. If Terry Nation wrote this, it would be mysterious. But it's not.

Oh God. Travis AGAIN! And not by Terry Nation! Doctor (spit) Who sucks, did I mention that? Clones aren't as good as in Blake's 7. There's a boom mike! I saw it! This is all shit! Brian Croucher - GET OFF MY ISLAND!

Hah! White people are bad! You wouldn't get THAT kind of socio-political satire in Star Trek, oh no! There is not a single iota of originality here, but that's good. Star Trek works just the same way.

It's just like The X-Files! WOWW!! They kill off Gan! You see that in Star Trek a fair bit, but it's all crap. Who gives a shit about Tasha Yar, anyway? And Blake turns into a self-obsessed loony! WHO WROTE THIS?! Terry Nation? Oh. Well, er. It's beyond reproach. There is only ONE thing that doesn't make sense: how can the Liberator get to Earth without being stopped? It's almost like it's one big trap or something... absolutely everything else about this entire story is perfect. Kill yourself now!!

Ah. Not as shithouse as other Boucher stuff. Travis stops being an attack dog and becomes an attack dog - amazing characterization there! He's almost interesting! Ooh, Gaia-type world is alive bollocks! Oh, no, it gets a planet name wrong! Well, this just plain sucks.

Robert Holmes is in da house! Proper cryogenics - you never see THAT in Star Trek, do you? At last, Blake is the honorable one dimensional character I remember! And the way he talks about Lord Geoffrey Ashley as if he was a time traveler who had met him... I don't get reminded of anything, do you? The costumes suck and the sets are all nicked from Space:1999.

Oh god, this is SHIT! Robin Hood-based SHIT! But at least they're making Avon bland and one-dimensionally heroic as Blake, so it's not all crap.

Oh look. An Avon episode. Boring.


"A wierd, wierd story." Holy crap! Prostitutes! You don't see THEM in Star Trek, do you?!? Travis doesn't suck quite as badly as every single occasion before and since. This is the ONLY episode with jokes in it. The rest are all serious. HUMOR IS IMMATURE!!!

Feminists rejoice! This is about Jenna being a two-timing slut! What more do you want? Hahah! Gola's not dead at the end! And he played the Captain of Calufrax in that Douglas Adams shite in Doctor (spit) Who! Space Vikings raping and pillaging! Feminism rocks!

This is like I, Claudius only not shit. Travis is dead! Yay! Cliffhanger! Oh no, they're trying to make Blake into someone beyond a cliche! BAD writer! You shall be flogged and punished! Deep Space Nine totally ripped off this episode and I am not afraid to take anyone who disagrees with me outside and beat them stupid!

Aw shit, they're not fighting the Federation any more just because it's collapsed! WANKERS! Still, Dayna's tits are nice, and Avon has had all traces of personality removed. Good. Why are there Space Vikings everywhere? It's just like Star Trek all over again! DAMN YOU! Oh, wait, Terry Nation wrote this? I love it.

Del Tarrant IS Giaciamo Cassanova!! I shall now list every single sci-fi show to do the "advanced society that's actually run by evil parasites" and the biography of Michael Sheard. What's that? Run out of space? Darn!

Pacifists? Yeah, right.

This is BEYOND crap! It's ripping off Omega in Doctor (spit) Who! Black Holes opening into different universes? What the fuck? Do you think I'm stupid or something?!? AND THEY'RE PLAYING FUCKING MONOPOLY!!!!!

Jarvik is the best fictional character in all of human history. No exceptions. I wish I was Jarvik. Jarvik rocks. Jarvik mighty. Jarvik strong. He justifies this entire series on his own. Jarvik... IS GOD!!!!!!

Wow. A whole episode about Vila and he stays in character! You never see that in Star Trek! This is a rip off of Deliverance. Chris Boucher can suck my ass.

Holy shit! Cally's an alien! This is just like Star Trek! It MUST DIE!!

Mmm. This seems to be an Avon episode. I'm not sure. I'm just not sure. Honestly, who cares that Anna betrayed him? She says that she loves him when he's pointing a gun at her head, that's good enough for me. No, I don't have any friends, why do you ask? This is boring.

What the fuck is this? Q?! Why can't Tarrant be the main character, he's much less interesting than Avon!

The whole idea of the Borg Collective is ripped off from this episode. We must hunt down whoever did it and kill them. The Trekkies must die!

I hate this.

Two man enter, one man leave! An itemized list of sci-fi shows on that. Deeta Tarrant is too interesting. I enjoy his death throes. Is this series over yet?

They blow up the fucking Liberator! They NEVER do that in Star Trek! Well, they do, but they just get another one straight away. Terry Nation wrote this! He came here on a PLANE, you cunts!

What-ever. Ripping off some poof's short story or something. I dunno, I didn't even watch it. Cally dies, I think. Meh. Star Trek totally rip this off. Cancel this stupid show!

Cool! War of the sexes - you NEVER see that in Star Trek! Except for the times you do. You know half of Blake's 7 is word-for-word plagiarized from Spock's Brain? It's true! I HAVE WITNESSES! Why did they kill off Pela? She's more sweet and telekinetic than the rest of them put together! She's just like Cally! It's not fair, she didn't deserve to die. They should have killed Soolin instead. Pela gives me the fucking horn. Cancel this stupid show!

Cancel this stupid show! You see, this is what happens when you don't do the 'good guys fight evil Federation' every single episode! Servalan is winning! This is the least original episode I've ever seen, because all the ones after it rip it off. Another Fed with an eyepatch! FUCK YOU, HOLMES!!

This is too hardcore for viewers as it rocks the sensibilities of the conservative 20th century middle class! Avon's gone stupid and evil! Why couldn't Blake be back, he'd be much less interesting. This script sucks because I wasn't paying attention. HAHAHAHA! Cancel this stupid show!

Cancel this stupid show! Oooh, Island of Dr. Moreau, I bet that's never been done before! No, I don't notice anything wrong with Dayna having the screaming thighsweats for Justin. Why do you ask?

Yay! Mindless gigantic killer robots! At last it reaches my intellectual level! And it's so deep - MAN IS A PRISONER OF TECHNOLOGY!! Other fans hate this, but are THEY writing this? No! Cancel this stupid show! Hah! THAT'll teach them!

Servalan is better when she's stealing ideas from Darth Vader. Cancer is Boba Fett in drag! This is so boring! Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored BORED! Stop killing friendly characters! This should be safe, bland, oatmeal television like the last three seasons! Cancel this stupid show!

Er... let's talk about computer development in The Twilight Zone, Star Trek, UFO, Space: 1999. This is about computers. And crystals. And god, they lose AGAIN! Cancel this stupid show!

"Sand fires on all thrusters!" It's by Tanith Lee, it MUST be good! This is the best episode ever! Servalan rocks! The evil planet of sand is named after Jules Verne! Oh, wait, actually, the story is crap now I'm thinking about it? WHY AREN'T THEY WEARING SPACE SUITS?!? Cancel this stupid show!

Wow, only took them four fucking years to do a heist story. Where is fucking science fiction? I can watch The Italian Job anytime! The models are crap. And they lose again! Cancel this stupid show!

Cancel this stupid show! It's cynical and ugly and full of cynical and ugly people! I want more bland cyphers! Avon tries to kill Vila - that's fucked up! What retard wrote this? I bet they can't write. Let's talk about the last episode, because Tarrant, Dayna and Soolin bore me and I don't fancy Servalan. God, this is camp! Robert Holmes should sue for someone pretending to be him writing this - it is TOTALLY unrepresentative of his so-called work! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE'S DEAD?!?

You see, if they had the Liberator, this wouldn't suck. Why are they even making this? Cancel this stupid show!

The moral of the story is that all the people who stupidly risk everything they care for again and again for personal motives while pretending to be noble are good and everyone else is scum. Blake is a one-dimensional hero, and if Avon realized it, we would have a happy ending. The whole series has been about showing Avon for the stupid, untrusting nobhead that Paul Darrow played with such conviction. The whole episode has been ripped off by Star Trek again and again and again and again. See how it shows Tarrant is a moron for not mindlessly assuming that Blake the Bland is able to do anything but be a straightlaced hero! OH THE IRONY! Apparently there's a book by Trevor Hoyle called Aftermath or something, but I don't give a fuck! CANCEL THIS STUPID SHOW! Oh, you have? LET'S WATCH DEEP SPACE NINE! YAY


Don't you feel better for reading that?

Spoof artwork

Having finished tackling Saward's version of episode fourteen of Trial of a Time Lord and ninety-nine out of the first one hundred BFs, the time has come to coggitate and here I repost some cover artwork I did for my Eighth Doctor spoofs. For reasons of good taste, the covers for Embrace the Darkness and Neverland will NOT be posted. Even though I actually finished Neverland's.

AKA The Creed of the Kromon. I can honestly say that had the Fist team been added to the script, even if the script was unchanged in every other respect, it would be made of awesome.

See, cause I noticed that The Twilight Kingdom was a bit like B7: Rescue which has a Sea Devil monster in it for no good reason and... forget it.

Should have used different colours for this Scherzo-parody, still...

My first effort. Went downhill from hereon in.

Traditional slagging off of Rob Shearman. (Just joking Rob, you know that. Right?)

Yeah. Didn't quite work, did it? Still, YOU try dealing with a fault adobe photoshop that crashes all the time. Half the stuff had to be cut-and-pasted in paintbox...

There's actually a proper version of this done by Bernie Fishnotes somewhere.

And I like this one for the expressions if nought else.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Ashes to Ashes - Crazy Bitch Edition

Within seconds of sitting down to the third episode of Ashes to Ashes, I'm already regretting it. The catch up has violently reminded me of Alex Drake the stuck-up clueless twit who has the temerity to be the main character, her even worse mother, and then that fucking clown. Getting David Walliams to talk in a deep voice is arguably a huge step forward in making him terrifying, but I still expect that oh-so-grim expression on his face to be suddenly interrupted by a pie.

Things drop even further as the episode starts with a particular bit of 1980s music which has always gone a fine line between scaring me and annoying me. I don't even know what it's called - Superman, maybe? The video clip has a short-haired stocky blonde woman at a keyboard playing the same few notes for the rest of eternity, occasionally saying random things like "This is your mother, why haven't you called?" and rather disturbingly has a set up which means every time her mouth opens, bright light floods out, and when her mouth is closed, her head glows a dull red. Very avante-garde. And also complete bollocks. Come on, people, there must be SOME better music from a whole freaking decade!?!

Well, today's episode is Nothing Changes (presumably a post ironic comment on the first episode of Torchwood because anything else suggests that this is going to be as crap as the last two). And our, heheheh, hero, hahahah, ah. Well, Alex Drake is contining to not stop fighting for a second by blanking out in front of the TV. I do like this aspect of her, as she makes me feel so motivated. Me merely typing out my thoughts is a Herculanean feat of achievement compared to Miss Unstamped Ass. She's also started talking to the ghost of her daughter (who probably isn't dead, but ride with it), and despite telling us all at home that she's got the hang of this "don't look because the ghosts will vanish" gig, STILL proceeds to turn around and make her daughter vanish. Now, I'm sure there can be nothing nastier than for a mother and child to be separated perhaps forever against their will... but I stopped giving a shit long ago. Sorry. I don't care, Alex. If you behaved around your daughter the way you handle the rest of your life, then frankly she'll have a much better future without you.

Time to get down to the reason I waste time downloading things in the first place - the Gene Genie beating the shit out of scrotes in as politically incorrect way as humanly possible. Aw yeah. Alas, seeing Gene, Alex, Ray and Chris doesn't get the same feeling of almost family that you got in LOM. It's not people who trust each other tackling huge odds, its a carpool of people who aren't really that happy with the situation. Alex treats a car chase with her usual lack of adrenaline, Chris is more interested in his lunch, and Ray handles the radio as he's painfully aware of how redundant he is around here. Only Gene treats events with concentration, let alone passion. God I hate the 80s.

"Just because I'm stuck here doesn't mean I have to pretend to like it," sneers Alex to Gene after he actually tracks down some drug dealers and catches them with absolutely no help from her. Christ, girl, my heart bleeds for you. Yet again I must ask why the hell you get out of bed - certainly there is a good chance you won't inspire suicide bombers that way. Humanitarian Alex also shows off her wonderful maternal instincts when she sees a young girl sitting on a wall sobbing - she stares at her for five minutes, calls Gene (or "Hunt" as she so endearingly refers to him) over so HE can stare at her. Gene, radical that he is, simply asks, "You right, sweetheart?" and lo and behold the plot starts.

And her opening monologue is slightly less convincing than "Sam Speed" on The Catherine Tate Show.

Gene suggests they just talk to the girl while Alex spews psychology buzzwords at him including "cognitive approach" and then announces that girl is scared of Gene. Despite no evidence of this and the fact that Gene has been generally a lot more friendly than the cold eyed Alex who has been voyeuristically leering at her the whole time. Finally, Gene decides to trust Alex to deal with people. Or maybe he's just as sick of her as I am. But - and you'll be staggered to discover this - Alex gets nowhere with her cognitive approach. Wow. That's yet another notch on her 100% failure rate. "Don't gloat!" she rants at Gene. "She's traumatized!"

Wow. Seeing her crying her lungs out and ignoring everything, I just assumed it was an allergy or something.

Just in case we started to think that Alex was the only gormless tit in the story, Chris turns up - as ever cracking jokes and trying to steal evidence - and delights in his new joke: a prostitute has made a charge of rape. Oh, my sides, get me another corset somebody. I really get the impression that "Chris" is actually a completely different character and just happened to get the same name and actor as the other Chris. They are not remotely similar. Even fucking Raymondo doesn't make light of rape! And it wouldn't really be a problem for Chris being a corrupt, insensitive, sexist prick... except he's supposed to be the bloke we saw in Life on Mars. Jeez.

Gene however is convinced said prostitue (Trixie la Bouche, AKA Ida Scott from The Satan Pit) is lying for petty revenge on some client judging by her blaise manner and less-than-convincing story, but nevertheless agrees to hear her out. Alex starts ranting about rape being about sex and power and I swear to god it looks like she's improvising this off the top of her head with no conviction whatsoever. Gene tells her to save this amateur dramatics for when he is lost in a coma, perhaps dreaming of a world with vaguely likeable characters in it.

Trixie explains her violator was a skinny, curly haired bloke with a posh accent (I get a vision of Steven Pacey at this point for some reason...) whose sudden insane rantings about purity and corruption suggest he might be a bit of knife-wielding masonic fundamentalist loony who will very likely strike again. Gene takes this seriously, knowing that the Stephen Pacey looney has struck before with similar modus operandi. Could this, perhaps have something to do with our crying catatonic captive girl? The answer will have to wait as Alex needs another mother-daughter flashback and guest appearance by Barry the Evil Clown of Doom because hell knows we just don't have enough of them...

Still, there are signs that Alex isn't quite as bat-shit-insane as last episode. When Barry the Evil Clown Doom appears... she ignores him, instead of pulling out a gun and going on a rampage. She's also stopped telling people they are fictional constructs and bragging that she has seen the future. At this rate, in two season's time she'll be well-adjusted enough to be likable. Nevertheless, her basing an entire psychological profile on the basis of a second-hand statement that the looney MIGHT have quoted the bible doesn't impress Gene. Or me.

"SOD THE LOT OF YOU!" she screams at the station when they don't instantly jump on her bandwagon following an unreliable source against an unreachable suspect. "I'M GOING TO DO WHAT I SHOULD HAVE DONE A LONG TIME AGO!"

I'll let you fill in that blank. Hopefully it involves her jumping off a building. Mind you, the last time she was gripped with such fervor for positive action, she was trying to jump the bones of a yuppie to get back at her 1981-version mother who would niether know nor care about her. Alex Drake ain't so good at solo action. Mm. Did you know that "Alex Drake" is an anagram of "X-RAE DALEK"? No did I.

Alex decides to find Evan, the guy who is her daughter's godfather in the future, and thus a friend, confidante, etc. This is reasonable, I suppose, bar the fact that a) he seems exactly the same as he does in 20 years time and b) "OH MY GOD!" Alex screams, upon looking at him. Who were you expecting, luv? And should you really be telling your guardian how gorgeous he is and absent-mindedly telling him his own future? A clue: give me strength. God this scene is embarassing as she grins like a nun with concussion, laughs dorkily and finally Evan decides she is nuts and runs away from "Subconscious, reassure thyself!" lady.

Meanwhile, Gene, Ray and Chris have been patiently combing the city for their insane, unreliable and unprofessional DI, and finally locate her interviewing some of the least attractive prostitutes since I watched Farscape. Upon realizing her coworkers have demonstrated even the vaguest of concerns about her safety, she accuses them of stalking her. And then screams that she cares so much about the safety of the ladies of the night because SHE USED TO BE ONE! And then she jumps up and down screaming, "HAHAHA! I WAS LYING THEN! I ONLY SAID THAT TO SHOW YOU HOW YOUR PRECONCEPTIONS INFORM YOUR JUDGEMENTS! AND YOU FELL FOR IT LIKE THE FASCISTS YOU ARE! AND EVEN IF I WAS A HOOKER, I'M TOO GOOD FOR YOU ALL! HAHAHAHA!"

"Sometimes," says Gene amiably, "I hate you, Drake. No, no 'hate'. Despise. You might have a plum in your gob but I would rather go with one of those toms than a bitter, twisted, messed-up, clenched-arsed, toffee-nosed bitch like you. You need help."

Alex slaps him twice and in her words, "goes off to get pissed" at Lougi's and is claiming this as a moral victory in teaching Gene about equality and manners, before woozily trying her truly pedestrian skills of seduction on the Gene Genie while bitching about her whole coma dreamstate fuge thing. Gene walks off in disgust as Alex leaps onto a passer-by with blond hair, a stripy shirt in suspenders as Shazza, Chris and Ray try not to projectile vomit at the site of their drunken DI on heat.

Yeah. Well. Subtext has rapidly become text. Alex was a nutter long before she got blasted into a twilight zone. I wonder how Gene and Gwen Cooper would get on? At least she's cute when she has nervous breakdowns. And doesn't need to dress up as a hooker every week. Oh, yes, did you think that 58 minutes could pass before Ms Drake dons her fur coat, ridiculous earings and fishnet stockings? You niave people, you.

But first there has to be the most awkward sex scene since Torchwood: Day One, and I wait patiently for Gordon Gecko to reveal HE is the psycho and slash Alex to ribbons cause, hell, SOMETHING needs to snap this tart out of her fugue. But no, we get the ever wonderful Barry The Evil Clown of Death's Guilt-Inducing LSD Trip Hour after the BBC closes down for the night.

The next morning, there is no trace of Gordon whatsoever and the very, VERY hungover Alex stumbles to work in huge sunglasses. I have to give it to Keely Hawes, she genuinely seems on the point of losing her lunch. That's fine hungover acting that is. Viv the black copper even marvels at it in the traditional "DAY-AM, WHITE WOMAN GOT WASTED LAST NIGHT!" manner that we all need to keep his character credible. And then she has another tantrum when Gene points out that their department would work smoother if the DI wasn't a drunken slut flaunting herself around the place and calling everyone she meets a "1981 construct". "WHAT DO YOU WANT? FOR ME TO MORPH INTO A NUN?!?" she screams at the top of her voice. "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT ANYWAY!"

Finally, Gene grows tired of this 'ridiculous conversation' and the plot turns to a boat on the river where Trixie was allegedly raped. The team shall infiltrate the party via fancy dress outfits - Gene as a Mexican cowboy, Chris as Superman/Clarke Kent, Raymondo as James Bond (complete with silly dog-like moustache) and Alex as - get this - a hooker!!! However, the looney suspect isn't dressed as a periot clown (thank fuck) but is actually the son from Celeb. If that reference makes any sense. Which it may not. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? Alex comes up with a brilliant plan - insult Gene and then come onto Ray harder than she did to poor Gordon Gecko the other night. Truly hers is a towerin intelligence.

What's really worrying... is it works! The waiter-looney does his entire biblical speil to Gene as he rants about unclean women beautiful on the outside but within filled with rotting bones that can never be purified. As you do. Satisfied, Alex starts shrieking, "YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!" despite Gene's repeated reminders they are supposed to be undercover because the boat owner is a mason who can have their whole department shut down in an instant. So Alex goes to said owner and TELLS him all of this. Just because she can.

Did I make it clear Alex is fucking deranged?

Leaving James Bond and Superman to distract everyone with a barroom brawl, they drag Looney back to the station... BUT EVAN IS HIS DEFENSE LAWYER! OH, THE IRONY! THE PATHOS! THE DRAMA!!!!!!! At least Alex manages NOT to freak out like before, so a slight improvement there. However, her entire psychological profiling know-how consists of "demand suspect confess". Suspect does not. Case collapses. So she chases after Evans insisting that even though she has no evidence of any sort, she must be right because it's entirely possible she might be. Gene meanwhile decides not to listen to another word Alex says and gets Trixie to reveal that actually, yes, she is lying and she wasn't raped.

Meanwhile, Chris' increasingly poor social skills mean it is down to Raymondo to look after catatonia girl. And, oddly enough, he gets her to talk. And it turns out she is a prostitute and ALSO one attacked by the looney! Who saw that coming? It turns out that while Trixie was not raped, she claimed to be because catatonic girl was too traumatized to do it for herself. Alex is delighted at this turn of events and runs to gloat over Gene... who has already got Trixie to fess up and knows all this already. Smackdown.

So, if Alex had just let Gene go along on his own, the chances are he would have discovered the truth earlier and tackled the problem for there. All she managed to do was get the Masons to turn against the police. Whoopee. And of course another bleak unhappy ending - clue's in the title, donchaknow? - and Luigi still hates all his clients, and the justice system is still corrupt and Alex is still isolated from her friends and family in both time zones and, what's this?

Yes, Raymondo is evolving into a proper human being. I wonder if maybe he should be the central character of this show. At least he doesn't have clowns following him, understands right from wrong and is able to set himself on fire without feeling physical pain.

What a guy.

Next Time: "If this is a test, I fear I may fail."
Kennedy has been assassinated and the police of the greater metropoliton are on the murderer's tail. Alex, of course, has much better things to do like pester her mother and guardian, storm into their house and scream, "YOU LYING LIARS!" for about seven hours. Gene prays for a miracle when locked in a sauna with Alex who starts to disrobe. Do I REALLY need to use up my harddrive on this?!

Sunday, August 3, 2008

You Gotta Be Kidding Me...

"I tried to act as a medium to my fellow children so I drew my first ever comic strip... which was rubbish. Seriously, it was rubbish. I didn't even understand it and I drew it."

I don't SOUND like that do I? Not me. Surely not. Do I? I mean, I get the concept that when I speak, what I hear is distorted because I'm on the inside, my skull distorting the vibrations. But I don't sound like that, do I? I always thought I sounded like Paul McDermott (not that I was intending to, far from it, if I had a choice I'd sound like David Dixon's Ford Prefect), but instead I sound... disturbingly normal. I couldn't pick that voice out of a crowd. It's completely forgettable unless I'm doing a pepperpot voice. I might as well be Anthony Ackroyd... played by Jeff Coburn...

Well, here is my first - completely unintentional - forray into the world of audio. Now I know what all those poor suckers on the end of the phone heard when I would ring them up to check their postal details. This five minute monologue was recorded in Chris Hale's swinging bachelor apartment (he is playing the guitar in the background, while his pal Grant provides the canned laughter.) I went there needing serious cheering up following the death of my dog, Dogrooter. Chris kindly invited me around and as I poured out my woes and troubles to him he... recorded it.

Chris and Grant were amazed at my incredibly demented autobiography - surely there'd be no other reason for them to sit through me describing in graphic detail what I thought of certain Doctor Who fan audios. Chris had a section of my ranting put into his album, Spastic Sessions, which has apparently garnered huge acclaim from everyone who bothered to get a copy. And they didn't complain about my bit. At all. In fact, one bloke actually wanted a copy of "Ewen Remembers Kindy" for their own podcast.

I'd upload here except... I don't know how. It's not a video file and the blog won't accept it. It's probably for the best since it was performed entirely off the top of my head while slumped on a sofa and there are plenty of awkward pauses, stumbled words, and generally my performance was very weak. Dylan Moran can sleep at night - if he sleeps - knowing I'm not actually threatening his career.

If this link don't work, a quick list of what was in it:

  1. A heavily biased depiction of my first day at Tempe Public School
  2. A heartbreaking reveal of my time in the KGB
  3. An honest evaluation of my place in the social pecking order
  4. The time I joined an impromptu hysterical witch hunt for Mary Walker
  5. My 'Alexei Sayle pretending to be Terry Jones' as a pepperpot impression
  6. Some inter-religion mockery which will leave me damned in not one but two belief systems
  7. A moment of Anti-American commentry which will no doubt have ASIO on my back
  8. My first ever comic strip and the public reaction
  9. A failed attempt by me to seem all complicated and educated with a degree in media studies and search vainly for the term "subtextual" and never convincing for a moment I have any idea what I'm saying
  10. A rather odd noise (no idea what that is)
  11. Chris' guitar work which will no doubt have Murray Gold come for him with a chainsaw at night

So. Yeah.

Keep your ears peeled.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Lighten up with Dr. Spoon & Chamber

After the bone-crushing, mind-blowing fury I've got into after the recent Big Finish story, The Betrayal Of A Rather Large Part of 1980s Doctor Who Mythos For A Cheap Laugh, I've decided to cool down and repost here an extract from the special DSC episode of The Youth Of Australia. It was our first attempt and embraced wholeheartedly the 'sketch show narrative' of Monty Python, with all the sketches effectly occuring in the same place and time and link shots and characters between the two.


The students are leaving the theatre, chatting and talking. Dr. Spoon and his aide Chamber are among them.

DOCTOR: I think that guy took it to the next level.

CHAMBER: Oh? Which level is that?

DOCTOR: The one below all the rest.

CHAMBER: I didn’t think that was possible.

DOCTOR: A genius doesn’t do what is possible.

CHAMBER: They do the impossible?

DOCTOR: No, of course not. No one can do the impossible.

CHAMBER: Wait, I don’t understand.

DOCTOR: That’s understandable.

CHAMBER: My not understanding is understandable?

DOCTOR: Exactly.

CHAMBER: You haven’t got a clue what you’re saying, do you?


CHAMBER: So, you’re not a genius, then, are you?

DOCTOR: Depends what you mean by ‘genius’.

CHAMBER: Someone with above average intelligence.

DOCTOR: I was afraid that would be your definition.

CHAMBER: What’s your definition, then?

DOCTOR: Someone with below average intelligence.

CHAMBER: That’s a stupid definition.

DOCTOR: I’m a stupid guy.

CHAMBER: No argument there.

DOCTOR: No argument here either.

A long pause. Dr. Spoon frowns.

DOCTOR: Okay, that does it!

CHAMBER: What you going to do?



DOCTOR: Yep, quit. Quit this whole conversation.

CHAMBER: You can’t quit the conversation.

DOCTOR: Watch me.

CHAMBER: You don’t have what it takes to quit the conversation.

DOCTOR: Not only do I have what it takes but I also have what it DOESN’T take. So there!

CHAMBER: Why do you have what it doesn’t take?

DOCTOR: I don’t like to throw anything out.

CHAMBER: I’m the same - but with comics.

DOCTOR: It is funny how some people find it hard to give up their possessions, even when their usefulness has come to an end.

CHAMBER: Yeah. You idiot.

DOCTOR: That’s it!

He turns and heads back inside the theatre.

CHAMBER: I was joking! Don’t leave! It was a joke! A joke...

Dr. Spoon vanishes inside. Chamber sighs.

CHAMBER: He’s such a child.

He crosses to a side door to the theatre and enters.


A typical Aussie garage with a typical Aussie car parked inside it. The bonnet is up, and music is playing quietly in the background. Chamber enters, in grimy overalls, and bends over the engine. A caption reads: CHAMBER’S CAR MAINTENANCE. He looks up and notices ‘us’.

CHAMBER: Afternoon, dudes, and welcome to Car Maintenance, a series of programs where we will discuss some very important aspects of caring for your car and making your driving experience an enjoyable one.

He moves into the drivers seat and gets comfortable.

CHAMBER: Now, when you’re driving, does your car ever make annoying clanking noise like these?

He turns the ignition. The engine starts, and then an ominous rattling sound becomes audible, getting louder all the time.

CHAMBER: It’s a very common problem to most drivers and is very simple to fix it. Don’t bother taking it to the garage and wasting your hard-earned time and cash. Just do what Chamber does - turn up the radio. As the song says.

Turn Up Your Radio’ plays incredibly loudly over the car speakers. Chamber now has to shout to be heard at all over the noise.


His grin fades as smoke begins to pour of out of the engine. Hastily, he turns off the radio and switches off the engine. More smoke fills the air around him.

CHAMBER: [BEGINNING TO COUGH] Well, this has been Car Maintenance with Chamber. I hope you tune in next week, when we will be discussing what to do when the car will no longer run. [COUGHS] Coming up next, The World Lies Dead At Your Feet... [COUGHS VIOLENTLY] Thank you!

He waves and we move away from him. Smoke fills the garage.


We slowly pan down and around a news desk where a host in a white leisure suit is reading a piece of paper. There is a behind-the-scenes feel to this. We get a caption saying THE WORLD LIES DEAD AT YOUR FEET. We pan until we can see the host, Chamber.

CHAMBER: Good evening and welcome you all to The World Lies Dead At Your Feet. Tonight, we conclude our series of special documentaries on Australia’s most-avoided hospitals. In our final installment, we’re visiting a very unique hospital located near Ayre’s Rock, notable for the fact that rocks are the only patients in the hospital.


Dr. Spoon, with a beard, is interviewing Nigel, in a white coat.

DOCTOR: I’m here at Slaughter House Cottage Hospital with Doctor Rowlin Stone. Doctor Stone, is it true that this hospital is for the exclusive use for rocks?

NIGEL: You bet your ass it is. Definitely.

DOCTOR: Any particular type of rocks?

NIGEL: Well, we treat gravel, lava rocks, granite, sandstone... basically any kind of rock we could think of. Right now there’s a protest against the treatment of petrified rocks. We’ve... [SIGHS] lost several recently.


As before. Chamber has his feet up on the desk, reading a magazine.

CHAMBER: Joining Doctor Stone at Slaughter House Cottage Hospital is another expert in the field of rock medical care, Doctor Sadie Mentary.


Dr. Spoon is interviewing Eve, who wears a stethoscope and has her hair in a ponytail. She is examining a brick on a treatment couch and speaks with an American accent.

DOCTOR: So, Doctor Mentary, how did you yourself get involved with this... novel institution?

EVE: Well, I’m originally from England, but our rock hospital was closed down when we lost one of the monoliths at Stonehenge during some major cosmetic surgery. Since Australia is the only other place on Earth with a rock hospital, I came here.

DOCTOR: I see.


Chamber is eating a pizza and watching a portable TV. It takes a few moments before he notices they have cut back to him.

CHAMBER: [SURPRISED] Um, uh, yeah. [GRABS A CLIPBOARD AND CHECKS IT] Yes, the, uh, the Australian government banned all of its citizens from getting any medical degrees whatsoever - other than for the treatment of rocks and various breeds of Yabbies. Well, fancy that.


Dr. Spoon and Nigel again.

NIGEL: The people around here just don’t accept technology has progressed past the point where rocks had no other choice but to bleed to death. When we got here, there no anesthesia for operations or anything.

DOCTOR: I understand when you were a medical intern, you were watching an operation and saw the head surgeon whack a patient over the head with a crowbar?

NIGEL: Yes.That’s one reason why we treat rocks.


NIGEL: They have a high tolerance for pain.


Andrew, bends over a rock on life support, smashes it five times with a hammer, picks it up and throws it out the window.

EVE: [VO] Of course, the surgery and its highly-trained interns is only one part of Slaughter House Cottage Hospital.


A row of hospital beds containing rocks and heaps of gravel.

EVE: [VO] Our medical facilities for rocks range from intensive care to psychiatric counselling.


Dr. Spoon and Eve walk down a corridor.

EVE: I, myself, am head of the pediatric ward and cosmetic surgery. Doctor Stone is the head surgeon. Let’s take a look at one of my cosmetic surgeries.


Andrew is bouncing around the background, making monkey noises. Eve is showing Dr. Spoon the rock Andrew was ‘operating’ on earlier.

EVE: Now, this rock suffers from a typical affliction: the complete lack of any facial expression. Alexei!

Andrew, making monkey noises, bounds up to her.

EVE: Texta!

Andrew hands her a texta. Eve draws a smiley face on the rock.

EVE: There. Good as new!


Nigel, in a gown and mask, approaches a rock on the operating table. He carries a hammer and chisel. Dr. Spoon stands to one side.

DOCTOR: Here, Doctor Stone is about to perform very delicate surgery on a critical patient. Doctor, just what the hell do you think you’re doing?

NIGEL: Well, this is one of our petrified patients. His surgery is for the removal of an insignificant bit of his insides. I have to position the chisel just right so as not to cause too much damage to his vital organs.

He positions the chisel on the rock and gives a slight tap. The rock cracks into two halves that fall aside. Nigel indicates to part of it with the chisel.

NIGEL: Observe the granular quality of his insides. The silver specks indicate severe petrifaction, while these...

He indicates the other half with the chisel and accidentally knocks it off the table. Slo mo: the rock half strikes the ground and smashes to pieces. Nigel screams to the heavens.


DOCTOR: [VO] Another patient is lost. Its family shall have to be informed as soon as it becomes possible to work out just who the rock’s family is and how to talk to large groups of inanimate objects.


Chamber has his shirt off and is ironing said item. It takes even longer for him to notice what is going on. He looks up at us, sighs, and continues ironing.

CHAMBER: [VERY BORED] A large problem existing with the hospital is dirt clods who go there seeking treatment. The doctors state, ‘we do not treat rocks – not dirt clods’.


Eve stares out the window, brooding.

EVE: I would say that we definitely have a big problem with the dirt clods. The worst thing is that: so far, there are no hospitals established for the treatment of dirt clods. It’s really sad, when you think about it.


Dr. Spoon is talking to Nigel.

DOCTOR: But how can you deal with the more... persistent patients?

NIGEL: The only way to turn away a really persistent dirt clod is to slam it against the nearest wall with extreme prejudice.

DOCTOR: And you do it yourself?

NIGEL: Oh, we let the interns enjoy that.


Screaming incoherently, Andrew chucks a dirt clod at a wall, smashing it to bits. Andrew starts to dance and laugh insanely.

EVE: [VO] It’s sad, but it’s really for the best.


Chamber is making out with a sexy P.A. He speaks between kisses.

CHAMBER: The worst part of being in the medical profession is, of course, saying goodbye to patients you couldn’t save.


Dr. Spoon and Nigel are present.

DOCTOR: I’m here in Slaughter House Cottage Hospital’s morgue for the departed rocks Stone and Mentary were unable to save.

Nigel opens a drawer in the wall to show several rock fragments.

NIGEL: [GRIMLY] This one, Richard, was injured in the demolition of a large heritage building.

He closes the drawer and opens one next to it. Inside is a lump of what looks like crumbly charcoal.

NIGEL: This one, Margaret, was enjoying a bonfire that subsequently got out of control. [SNIFFS] Thankfully, she was the only casualty...

He closes it, moves to open a third, then stops.

NIGEL: [ANGUISHED] I can’t take it any more! Turn off the camera!

Dr. Spoon sighs and makes a ‘cut it’ gesture to camera.


Chamber, clothes rumpled, is enjoying a cigarette. He hands the P.A. a wad of cash and she leaves. Chamber finishes his cigarette.

CHAMBER: Uh, yeah. [CLEARS THROAT] Yes, the medical profession has its ups and downs, as demonstrated here in Slaughter House Cottage rock hospital and every other hospital in the country we’ve shown here over the last few weeks.


Dr. Spoon is bent over a desk in the front of a shop, examining a wall-chart map of the world. The last few lines of the previous scene can be heard over the transistor radio on the shelf near Dr. Spoon.

RADIO: Tomorrow night, a new series about International Uulungid Caloovin Day, entitled The Wrath Of The Greatest Pervert Of Them All, only on The World Lies Dead At Your Feet.

The theme music starts and Dr. Spoon switches it off. The door opens and a bell rings. Chamber enters.

CHAMBER: Afternoon.

DOCTOR: Morning.

CHAMBER: So, have you got the new map ready?

DOCTOR: Just finishing it, Natratov.

CHAMBER: Chamber.

DOCTOR: [LOOKS UP, CONFUSED] What chamber? Where?

CHAMBER: No, I’m called Chamber. That’s my name.

DOCTOR: I thought your name was Natratov.

CHAMBER: No one has a name like Natratov.

DOCTOR: I thought there was a King of Italy called Natratov.

CHAMBER: King Natratov?

DOCTOR: That’s the fellow.

CHAMBER: There isn’t a King Natratov. There never has been!

DOCTOR: [FROWNS] Are you sure?


DOCTOR: Maybe it was King ‘Jacko’, perhaps?

They shrug. A short pause.

CHAMBER: Anyway, how’s the map?

DOCTOR: I won’t exaggerate. It’s my bestest ever map in the whole wide world. Oh, yes, indeedy, it definitely is.

CHAMBER: Isn’t it your first map?

DOCTOR: Technically, yes.

CHAMBER: What does 'technically, yes' mean?

DOCTOR: It means ‘yes’, but makes me sound more intelligent.

CHAMBER: Oh, if I want to sound more intelligent, I just pause before I answer questions.

DOCTOR: How’s that working?

A long pause.

CHAMBER: ...Fine.

DOCTOR: Okay, I’ve just finished it. What do you think?

Chamber joins him and looks over the chart.

CHAMBER: Nice, very colorful.

DOCTOR: Yes. I used [INDICATES] bright yellow, burgundy green, aquamarine blue, aquamarine purple and neon red.

CHAMBER: All in the one country, I see.

DOCTOR: [DEFENSIVE] It’s a very important country, Chamber!

CHAMBER: New Zealand is a very important country?

DOCTOR: Indeed it is.

There is a long pause. Chamber starts to speak.


CHAMBER: You didn’t happen to be born in New Zealand, did you?

DOCTOR: How did you know that?

CHAMBER: Just a hunch.

DOCTOR: [AFTER A PAUSE] OK, how much do I earn a year?

CHAMBER: Just below your ideal pay packet.

DOCTOR: Exactly right! That’s amazing!

CHAMBER: It’s a gift.

DOCTOR: A gift? Who gave it to you?

CHAMBER: My uncle.

DOCTOR: And just what did you give him in return?

CHAMBER: A pair of jeans.

DOCTOR: Flared?

CHAMBER: Of course.

DOCTOR: At the knee?

CHAMBER: Naturally.


Chamber holds up the chart and peers at it.

CHAMBER: Hey! You’ve missed out Antarctica!

DOCTOR: Antar-what?

CHAMBER: Antarctica. You know? The South Pole?

DOCTOR: Never heard of it.

CHAMBER: You have never heard of the South Pole?

DOCTOR: No. Should I have?

CHAMBER: Well, it depends on your point of view.

DOCTOR: Does it? Really? Hmm. Do you think people will miss it?

CHAMBER: Probably.

DOCTOR: Well I best add it in. Where does it go?


DOCTOR: I can’t put it there.

CHAMBER: Why not?


CHAMBER: Ahh, I see your problem. You’ve drawn the world flat.

DOCTOR: So? What’s the problem with that?

CHAMBER: The world ISN’T flat!



DOCTOR: How do you know all this, anyway?

CHAMBER: Satellite photos.

DOCTOR: Oh. They’re pretty accurate, I suppose?

CHAMBER: Pretty accurate, yeah.

DOCTOR: So, there’s no chance they made a mistake, is there?

CHAMBER: Not on the whole roundness-of-the-Earth issue.

DOCTOR: So... I guess I’ll just have to change the map.

CHAMBER: Uh, there’s something else.

DOCTOR: What is it now?

CHAMBER: You seem to have drawn New Zealand surprisingly large. In fact, so large... it covers the map.

DOCTOR: You mean New Zealand isn’t actually that big?


DOCTOR: How big is it?


DOCTOR: That’s quite small, isn’t it?

CHAMBER: Yeah, I guess it is. I never really noticed before.

DOCTOR: [SIGHS] I suppose I should redraw the map.

CHAMBER: Can I ask you a question?

DOCTOR: You can ASK.

CHAMBER: Have you ever been outside of this room? At all?


CHAMBER: Really?


CHAMBER: You’re not really qualified to draw a map, are you?

DOCTOR: No. No, I’m not.

CHAMBER: ‘Mapmaker’ was a strange choice of career, don’t you think?

DOCTOR: I never wanted to be a mapmaker. Mother pushed me into it.

CHAMBER: Was she a mapmaker?

DOCTOR: No, a walrus. But she always wanted to be a mapmaker. So, are you going to buy my map or aren’t you?

CHAMBER: No. Sorry.

DOCTOR: Don’t worry. I understand.

CHAMBER: What are you going to do now?

DOCTOR: Become a drug addict.

CHAMBER: Which drug?

DOCTOR: Probably marijuana.

CHAMBER: Can I suggest cocaine instead?

DOCTOR: No, I hate needles.

CHAMBER: Well okay then, have fun with that.

DOCTOR: I will.

Chamber leaves.


The Australian flag changes to show Earth. Intro to a news bulletin.

ANNOUNCER: Good evening and welcome to the six o’clock news. Tonight, we have a very heartwarming story about homemade beetroot. Peter Iodine has more.


Dave as the anchorman, in a suit that is the same colour as the background on which things are superimposed, meaning the pattern swallows him up save his head and hands.

DAVE: Good evening, I’m Sherlock Watson. And now, more on the head story, on location with Doctor Holmes.


Dr. Spoon, in a trenchcoat, microphone and ear-piece stands in an urban kitchen. Chamber stands to one side, in a sweater.

DOCTOR: Yes, Watson. This evening we bring you the story of the undying love between a man and his homemade beetroot, fermented in a mixture of sugar and vinegar. [INDICATES FRIDGE] It was like any other day in the life of Paddy Dipstick. He went to the refrigerator to collect some cheese and beetroot to combine in the form of sandwiches. Then - disaster struck.

Chamber sobs to himself slightly. Dr. Spoon crosses over to him.

DOCTOR: And just what had happened to your beetroot?

CHAMBER: [SNIFFS SADLY] It had fallen apart!

We see a close up of a jar of dark red liquid with what look like onion rings floating in it, stained red.

DOCTOR: [VO] Yes. Dear Paddy’s homemade beetroot had lost cohesion – no longer easily-arrangable delicious disks of marinated root vegetable. The disintegration was too serious even to call for emergency assistance. It was time for action.

We cut back to Dr. Spoon and Chamber.

DOCTOR: [GENTLY] So, what did you have to do to the beetroot?

CHAMBER: [SOUNDS ASHAMED] I had to arrange the stuff on the cheese.

DOCTOR: I see.

We cut to a black and white reconstruction of hands placing the beetroot rings inside each other on the cheese sandwich. We cut back to the present.

DOCTOR: It must have been hard for you, Paddy, being so attached to your homemade beetroot, and having no surgical experience whatsoever?

CHAMBER: It was. I tried my best, and... well, my cheese and beetroot sandwich is alright now. [TAKES SANDWICH AND EATS IT] No, it’s better than alright – it’s delicious.

Dr. Spoon turns to camera.

DOCTOR: And there you have it. A beautiful story about bravery, almost insurmountable odds, and a man’s undying love for dairy products and root vegetables. Why the hell am I wasting my life reporting this shit to a bunch of bludging arseholes sitting on the couch eating CCs? Back to you, in the studio, Watson.


Dave nods.

DAVE: Thank you, Doctor Holmes, for that... heart-warming story. We’ll be back in a moment with leprosy. Sorry, weather. I’m always making that mistake.

We zoom out to show the entire studio as the station goes to an ad break, the lights dimming.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Smug Overload

Oh yes, my faithful silent majority. Let it not be said that blogging does not have power... global power! Bwaha! I thought for a while the only thing that it was good for was finger exercise and getting me fired/and or sued for sexual harrassment but not any more.

As the handful of readers are no doubt completely aware, Time's Champion has finally been released - the incomplete 'Sixth Doctor Snuffs It' tale that Craig Hinton was working on before his genuinely-too-soon death. And the readers are buzzing across the web on the bits that say the Master is the War Chief! Oh, watch how even semi-respectible reviewers like Eddie Wolverson are back tracking and saying, "yeah, well, maybe, maybe not, it's not like I care, I'm above such things, yes it's true!".

And I played my part in this INCREDIBLE bit of pedantry. Check out the wiki entry for the War Chief and there's a little "3" that leads you to a link to this very blog. And one of the followers of that link was the bloke that completed Time's Champion, enthused by brain-twistingly brilliant thesis, and even posted here to say so. So my puny rantings have helped change the state of Who fandom forever!

Let's see Mr. Chatham beat that!

And, in conclusion I post here a comic strip from 1992 about the Doctor and his old rival on Gallifrey. At the time, everyone thought it was the Master. Then everyone said it was the War Chief cause he's called Magnus not Koschei. Like there's a difference...

Any doubt left, boys and girls?

...what do you mean they've brought back Adric from beyond the grave?!?