Wednesday, November 5, 2008

If *I* Had Written The King's Demons...



(We see two dogs eating bones, munching.)

DOG 1: Mmm. Nice bones.

DOG 2: Hah! To think that I am reduced to this! I, who was once adored by one and all... I, Tom Baker, reduced to the state of a dog in a cutaway sequence in the Young Ones!

DOG 1: This isn't the Young Ones. Now, shut up and eat your bones.

DOG 2: Ahhhh. Anyone can eat a bone, but to eat it INTERESTINGLY...

DOG 2: SHUT UP! Whoops! Camera's are on.

(We pan across to see a truly convincing and stunningly expensive castle interior. Stop giggling. It worked on Black Adder, didn't it? Now, our cast: King "Kong" John; the neon-orange Sir Gilles Estram; Lord Ranulf; his jailbat wife; and their castrated son, Nigel.)

RANULF: How's the peacock's vomit lentils, my liege?

KING: (MUNCHING) As thrilling as picking the weevils out of biscuits. (EYES WIDEN) OH MY SOVERIEGN! RANULF?!?! Are these lentils South African??

(Ranulf eyes his food, worried)

KING: I'm not paying you to eat black men!

RANULF: You're not paying me at all, goatee-face! Look, I know we're the bestest of mates ever since you took that tapestry of me with Sally the horse, but COME ON! You ask for all my cash on a highly-dubious grounds - yeah, no tax dodging on religious grounds - THEN, you invite yourself round for dinner and go an insult the catering!

KING: (SNARLS) Why not? I'm King! I'm King and you're not anything!

RANULF: What is your problem, Johnny boy? Or, as we in the Senior Echelon know you... LITTLE John?

(The King spits out a mouthful of food. We hear one of the dogs shout and complain, demanding the director say cut. This ends with a distinctly anachronistic gunshot)

RANULF: (LOOKS UP) What the hell was that?

KING: (QUICKLY) Nothing. Oh, look. Yellow custard dripping from a dead dog's eye. Is that desert?

RANULF: Well, if you want it, Kingping, have a go!

KING: Oh, dear. I've lost my page in the script. Er, Estram, where were we?

ESTRAM: You inzult ze king.

KING: Thank you. You, King, are a total... wait a minute! I AM the King!

ESTRAM: (SIGHS] Ee inzults ze king.

KING: Did he? The bastard! I demand satisfaction!

RANULF: Tough! I gave you my Rolling Stones collection AND my record player - why do you think we only have that tit in the corner playing an accordian?

ESTRAM: Zat is not an haccordian, it iz ze lute.

RANULF: WHAT? Where did the accordian go?!

KING: It was needed for vital war efforts. Look, Ranulf, I don't like you. So... DIE!

RANULF: (SCREAMS) It wasn't me!! It was... Nigel!!

(Dramatic music. Ranulf points an accusing finger at Nigel, who blinks)

NIGEL: What?

ESTRAM: Very well. YOU inzult ze King?

NIGEL: King? What King?

JAILBAIT QUEEN: Over there, dear. Honestly, I do wish you'd pay attention.

NIGEL: That's not the King!

ALL: Oh, yes he is!

NIGEL: Oh, no he isn't!

ALL: Oh, yes he is!

NIGEL: Nah, he's not! He is, in fact, a metal man who can change shape being controlled by -

(Estram gags Nigel, grinning through gritted teeth)

ESTRAM: Er, he inzults you, my liege. May I kill him ritualiztically?

KING: Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out. I'm off to get wasted.

RANULF: You can't do that?

KING: Can't I? Fine! I'll do it tomorrow!

(The King goes to sleep. )

RANULF: (CONFUSED) Uh... Ok. Um, goodbye son. You weren't mine, anyway.

(Ranulf walks off. Nigel blinks as Estram unsheathes a sword.)

NIGEL: Um... can I have a last request?

ESTRAM: Yes. Your last request is that you can have a last request.

NIGEL: (PLEASED) Oh, ta very much.

(Estram swings his sword...)

(The next day. To give Nigel a sporting chance, the King has decided to have an old-fashioned-but-actually-cutting-edge jousting match. A bunch of bored extras and a dead dog sit in an audience between two tents. The King arrives and kicks the dead dog away, so he can have a good seat. The tents open. Estram emerges in black, nerehu-style battle armor with a black stallion foaming at the mouth. He mounts his steed (stop sniggering) and raises his sub-machine gun. Nigel emerges. He has a cereal box jammed over his head and holds a boomerang as he mounts his unwheeled tricycle.)

KING: Well, this all seems pretty fair. Let's GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!!

RANULF:I beg your majesty! Take my goods, my lands, my chattel, even the robes I stand but spare my only son!

KING: You taking the piss?

RANULF: What? I'm being dramatic!

KING: OK. I want your castle, ALL your cash, your jailbait wife AND the clothes you're wearing.


KING: AND your lucky gonk.

RANULF: WHAT? Never! Let the runt die! I shall NEVER surrender my lucky gonk.

KING: Yeah, well, you look crap naked anyway.

JAILBAIT QUEEN: He's right, you know, dear.

RANULF: Shut up! You too, Little John!

KING: Ok! Let's start spilling some blood!

(Estram begins charging straight towards the prone Nigel.)

NIGEL: Wow. I'm dead.


(Suddenly, a police box appears in mid air and drops on top of Estram, crushing him and his horse. Nigel gets up, feeling cocky and begins to kick at the legs of Estram that sprout from beneath the box.)

NIGEL: Huh? HUH? You wanna piece of me? Huh? Not so clever now, huh? LOSER!

(Inside the police box is... The Doctor, Tegan Jovanka and Vislor Turlough, all looking bored and depressed as they drift from "exciting" Black Guardian trilogy to "thrilling" 20th anniversary special. The time rotor slides to a halt.)

DOCTOR: There we are. A perfect landing.

(They are thrown to the floor.)

TEGAN: Where are we?

DOCTOR: I'd say Earth.

TURLOUGH: Why would you say that?

DOCTOR: Because, unlike some stars, I read the script. (CHECKS CONSOLE) Yes. Earth. March 4, 1215. Wow, we were so close! I'm very proud of the TARDIS this time.

TURLOUGH: We were aiming for Trion, December 6, 2891!

DOCTOR: (STARES) Yes. Hmmm. Twelfth century, Earth... We're probably in Tokyo.

TEGAN: Could this be a Black Guardian trap? Are we about to die? Is entropy inevitable??

DOCTOR: You know, it's these little moments of optimism that make you so freaking loveable, Tegan.

(Tegan opens the scanner. It shows a close up of a huge kettle.)

TEGAN: It's... a kettle.

DOCTOR: That's what YOU think. It's obviously some wierd alien menace invading Tokyo. Without Godzilla or Mothra, Earth's greatest defence is me! Thank God I've arrived in time! (HE PUTS A LAMPSHADE ON HIS HEAD) Right. Just test the telepathic translator circuits... Ahem. Ah, I ram Chinese if you prease... Yup, that's working. Let's go.

TURLOUGH: Hey! The scanner's jammed on the shopping channel.

(He bangs the console. The picture changes to Nigel strutting back and forth, trying to look cool.)

DOCTOR: My God! The evil kettle has transformed into Geekatron! Quickly, we must AWAY!

(He runs straight for the door. Which is closed. The Doctor bounces off it and falls over. Tegan sighs and opens the doors. She leaves, as does Turlough. The Doctor lies on the floor.)

DOCTOR: (ANGUISHED) Come back, please! Oh, my ankle!!!

(Outside, Nigel is playing up to the crowd.)

NIGEL: Oh, yeah! Who's the man! Who's the man? I am invincible! Nigel the conquerer! Nothing can faze me, the Duke of Deliciousness!

(He turns around just as the door opens and Tegan and Turlough emerges. Nigel whimpers and faints, wetting himself. Tegan and Turlough turn around and notice the King. They wave.)

JAILBAIT QUEEN: Who are they, my dearest?

RANULF: (LICKS LIPS) Who cares? That chick's showing her legs!

JAILBAIT QUEEN: Yes, I hate it when streakers invade jousting pitches.

RANULF: (LEERING) Yeah, whatever. Hey, Johnny? Can I have the chick if you can kill the boy?

KING: Sounds fair.

JAILBAIT QUEEN: Um, am I the only one slightly put out that these two wierdoes appeared out of nowhere in a blue box that fell for the sky? (LONG PAUSE) Well, obviously I am.

KING: (WAVES) Hello, Tegan! Long time, no see, baby!

RANULF: You know these sexy interlopers, my liege?

KING: Hell, yeah. Get me a guitar someone!

(Tegan and Turlough approach the King.)

TURLOUGH: Do you know him, Tegan?

TEGAN: Never met him before. Well, there was that time at the school dance, but... No. He couldn't have been THE King John. I assumed that he was really Elton John.

TURLOUGH: You're wierd, you know that?

TEGAN: Hey, I don't spend my evenings talking to a piece of crystal shouting "I'VE CHANGED MY MIND! PLEASE! GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE", do I?

TURLOUGH: Huh, I don't want to KNOW what you do in your evenings, sicko.

(The King begins to play "Devil Woman" on a lute. Mysteriously, he has turned black and has grown a huge afro in the way only Kings can. He segueways into "Black Magic Woman.")

RANULF: Wow. If there's a subtext to this, I have no idea what it is!

KING: (REVERTING TO TYPE) Guys, gals, idiots of all ages...

IDIOT: Are you addressing me, sir?

KING: Yes. My friends, these are my pet Demons I won off Lucifer during a game of three-handed crib. By the way, did I mention I drink goat's blood for breakfast?

(The Doctor limps from the TARDIS)

DOCTOR: Hah! The evil Geekatron has taken us to England! Tokyo is saved! And it's all down to me, or my name's not Doctor...

(The Doctor is promptly cut off as the police box falls on top of him. He is standing so the open doorway falls over him. His top half thus punches through the rear wall of the tatty police box prop.)

DOCTOR: Whoops. Are we going again, John? No? Oh... AGH! MY OTHER ANKLE!

(Estram gets to his feet, swaying slightly. His eyes glow red and he is foaming from the mouth.)

TEGAN: He doesn't look friendly.

TURLOUGH: It's that orange beard, Tegan.

TEGAN: Yeah, boy is it fake. Is that the fashion around here?

TURLOUGH: Hmm. Shave him and he'd look like an angel, I'd bet.

JAILBAIT QUEEN: Well, Estram's an angel? If you can't believe a demon, who can you believe?

RANULF: (DROOLING) Yeah, whatever.

KING: Hey! Doctor! Come over here! I've got some jelly babies! You can bite their heads off!

TEGAN: I thought he'd gone off jelly babies.

KING: Has he? OK. I've got you some normal babies! You can bite their heads off!


(He walks up to the seats, still wearing the TARDIS prop. He knocks over most of the cast as he sits next to the king.)

TEGAN: Doctor, you don't REALLY eat babies, do you?

DOCTOR: Not the cute ones. So... Who are you again?

KING: I am King John.

DOCTOR: You are not! I have met King John, I know King John and YOU, sir, are no King John!

KING: I am so!

DOCTOR: King John looks like Ford Prefect wearing a dress!

KING: Yeah, well, I hate to break this to you, but The Legend of Robin Hood is not canonical.



DOCTOR: (DEPRESSED) Shit. Still, should have had my suspicions when I saw Robin without his beard leading the Vanir on Terminus. And Friar Tuck as an Edwardian Sailor. And seeing Little John as a policeman in Victorian London. And I never realized until now, but Sir Guy of Guisbourne was a dead ringer for Harry Mailer, who's plain dead. And Captain Hawkins was the spitting image of the Sherrif of Nottingham, I now recall. And it was written by Robert Stewart Banks...

KING: OK! Ok! You're alienating viewers?

JAILBAIT QUEEN: We've still got viewers!

KING: SHUT IT, BITCH! Right, where was he?

ESTRAM: I was about to behead ze spoilt brat, King John.

KING: Oh, yes. I remember now. Behead the runt!

(Dramatically, the Doctor whirls to face Ranulf, knocking over the cast members who have only just managed to stand up again.)

DOCTOR: Lord, you're not going to let your son die, are you?

RANULF: (EYES ON TEGAN) Mmmmmmmmm. Sweet, sweet candy.

TURLOUGH: How did you know that guy was the other guy's son?

DOCTOR: Family resemblance.

RANULF: You mean he IS my son? (TO JAILBAIT QUEEN) You naughty little slut!

JAILBAIT QUEEN: I didn't want to disappoint you!


(Dramatically, the Doctor whirls to face the King, knocking over the cast members who have only just managed to stand up again.)

DOCTOR: Your Majesty, please - shut this man up!

KING: Please, call me Kameleon.


KING: Whoops. Nothing. What do you want?

DOCTOR: Let's cancel the whole contest and get wasted on cheap cider.

KING: I LIKE that plan. Sir Gilles! Down boy!

ESTRAM: Never! This runt's pissed all over my shoes!

KING: I said stop!

ESTRAM: Never! I am the... crap. OK. OK, damn it!

(Nigel, at this point, chooses to regain consciousness and opens his eyes to see Estram holding the sword above his head. Nigel faints with a squelch.)

ESTRAM: AGH! I'll never wash this out! Ach!

(Estram runs off, wiping invisible filth from him. The King rises.)

KING: OK, everyone. Time for lunch. And a quick rundown of those points: my best friends are demons. Right. What's for starters? I feel like braised baboon buttocks in a delicate white wine sauce.

(The King and his entourage leave. Ranulf taps the Doctor on the shoulder. Dramatically, he whirls to face Ranulf, knocking over the cast members who have only just managed to stand up again.)

DOCTOR: Yes? I suppose you want to thank me for saving your son?

RANULF: Anything but, blondy-boy. Tell you what, call it quits if you take my son with you, demon-dude.

DOCTOR: Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Well, I've been needing some cannon fodder - er, I mean, company since Adric carked it. Failing that, I could always use him as target practise. OK, pad out this two episode story and you got a deal!

(They shake on it. A man in a dressing gown arrives and rips the police box off the Doctor.)

DOCTOR: Oh, thanks, Tony. Hey, what are you doing here? I haven't seen you since Time-Flight!

MAN: (ROLLS EYES) Just passing, Pete.

(Inside the castle, the camera man slowly roasts inside the fire place as he attempts to get some interesting camera angles. Already, he is smouldering. The cast enter.)

DOCTOR: Nice castle. Norman, would you say?

RANULF: No, I'm Fitzwilliam. I don't know any Normans.

DOCTOR: (RUBS EYES) For Christ's sake...

(Nigel runs up to them.)


DOCTOR: I just saved your life, you ungrateful wretch.

NIGEL: Dude, I could have SO defeated that French Knight. I had him on the ropes.

RANULF: Oh, sod off you annoying little virus! And change your armor!


(He runs away again)

DOCTOR: Ah! Just like the good old days with Adric. I love such stimulating discussion.... OK, Tegan, get me my shotgun. The moment has passed.

TEGAN: Where's Turlough?


TEGAN: You know? Ginger wierdo in odd clothes?

DOCTOR: Adrian Edmonsen??

(Meanwhile, Turlough is standing beside a window.)

TURLOUGH: Oh, man. I could have been someone, you know. I could have been someone. I could have been a container! And what do I get? A one-way ticket to Serial 6W! What did I do? I acted evil and broody, tried to kill the Doctor, betrayed him the Black Guardian and the next thing you know, I don't even have any dialogue! If only they'd kept the story with the space whale...

NIGEL: Shut up, you annoying git! You're under arrest!

TURLOUGH: On what crime?

NIGEL: For looking prettier than me!

TURLOUGH: You arrest a lot of people, don't you?


TURLOUGH: What guards?

(An extra arrives.)

NIGEL: Damn the King for dwindling our men-at-arms.

TURLOUGH: Yeah, sure. I believe you!

NIGEL: That's it! Take him to the torture chamber! He is charged with looking out a window!

TURLOUGH: I gave up Blake's 7 for this?? Give me strength...

(Back in the set, Ranulf confonts his wife)

RANULF: You said you had it off with Sir Ponceby The Imbecile's idiotic half-brother!

JAILBAIT QUEEN: (SHRUGS) Yeah. I just didn't get knocked up that time.

RANULF: You mean... you mean that miserable little shit is REALLY my son?

JAILBAIT QUEEN: Fraid so, daddy-o.

RANULF: GOD DAMN IT! Sir Gilles Estram!!!

(Estram approaches, visibly sticky-taping his beard on)

ESTRAM: Bonjour Misour Fitzwilliam?

TEGAN: Wow! A real Pakistani at court!

RANULF: Estram? Throw this harlot in the dungeons!

ESTRAM: Um.. OK. Uh, ze King just sort of ordered me to do zat very thing.

RANULF: Well, good on him! I never want to see this slut again! Or at least until I'm so drunk and horny it doesn't really matter. Do it!

(Estram leads the jailbait queen away, surreptitiously groping her).

TEGAN: Hmm. A Pakistani Knight at court.

DOCTOR: Yes. How odd. Almost...

(Very drammatic music)

DOCTOR: ... SUSPICIOUSLY odd. I sense there is a plot here.

TEGAN: Well, you're doing better than the writers, that's for sure.

DOCTOR: Hmm. If I remember my history right, King John should not only LOOK like Ford Prefect in a dress, he should also be signing the Magna Carta five minutes from now.

TEGAN: Doctor, your memory sucks.

DOCTOR: That's a total lie, Harry! My memory is fine!

TEGAN: You can't even remember what your own name is.

DOCTOR: Sebastian.

TEGAN: (SHOCKED) That's your real, scary Time Lord name?!

DOCTOR: (CROSSES FINGERS) You bet your arse, my Aussie airhostess.

TEGAN: Well. Fancy that. Hmm. Turlough's disappeared.

DOCTOR: Oh, good. Let's bugger off, then.

(Ranulf dives in front of them with a sword.)


DOCTOR: ...what?

RANULF: You're not leaving here without taking that blond thing with you!

DOCTOR: My hair?! OK. I'll take my hair, scary person.

RANULF: No, the boy. You've got to get him out of here before word spreads!

DOCTOR: Oh, don't worry. All this crap about us being demons should knock that story onto... oooooh, page 3 at least!

RANULF: (SHEATHES SWORD) Fair enough. Have you bewitched the King?

DOCTOR: Does it matter?

RANULF: Not really. If only he wasn't the real King! Then I could nail him to the table and shove his damn lute where the son doesn't shine.

DOCTOR: Well, if it makes you happy, I think that the King... (LOOKS LEFT AND RIGHT FURTIVELY) ...may be an imposter.

RANULF: Great!

DOCTOR: You see, the real King has long girly hair and this amazingly fake crown and no beard. Never trust anyone with a beard, that's what I say. Who was the last bad guy we met with a beard, Tegan?

TEGAN: (SHRUGS) How should I know? The Master?

DOCTOR: There must be someone else. Who else had a beard?

TEGAN: Um, the Monitor?

DOCTOR: No, he was good.

TEGAN: That bloke on Deva Loka who thought he was in Carry On Up the Kyber?

DOCTOR: No, he was good, too. What about moustaches?

TEGAN: Oh, the Cranlieghs had nice moustaches.

DOCTOR: No, they were good. Who was evil that had a moustache?

TEGAN: Um, that soldier guy we fought the Cybermen, but he was good. And that airline captain, but he was good. And Kalid, but he turned out to be the Master. And Shardovan, but he was good. The Portreeve had a beard, but he was the Master. That stallholder guy I possessed had a beard, but he was comic relief, if anything. And the Brigadier, of course. And that nice Vanir guy. And this guy standing in front of you has a beard. Oh, and that Pakistani knight -

DOCTOR: OK, some theories don't bear close examination. Let's get pissed, OK?

TEGAN: What about the plot?

DOCTOR: What ABOUT the plot?

TEGAN: Oh, who cares?

(The Doctor ruffles her hair condecendingly.)

DOCTOR: That's my temporary assistant (until a 36-DD American babe turns up, anyway).

(Meanwhile, Turlough is being stretched on the wrack. Nigel laughs cruelly.)

NIGEL: Ha-ha. Hah-hah. Ha. How do you like THIS, carrot top?

TURLOUGH (BLISSFUL) Ecstacy, mate. Sheer, bloody ecstacy!

NIGEL: (DEFLATED) Is that good?

TURLOUGH: Oh, you betcha! Man, I thought I'd be a hunchback after all that crawling on Terminus. This is pure, unadulterated pliesure! How much do I owe you?

NIGEL: Who is the wierdo in the cricketing gear?

TURLOUGH: Peter Davison. Anything else?


(Dramatic music that makes up an embarrassing lack of material to pad out the episode.)

TURLOUGH: Not... THE iron maiden??

NIGEL: Yes... THE iron maidenn!!

TURLOUGH: Great! I've got all their aulbumns!

(Two guards enter with an inflatable woman. Nigel doesn't notice.)

NIGEL: Let us see how well demons suffer! You will fill her!!!

(Turlough eyes the inflatable woman)

TURLOUGH: Whatever turns you on. This "capture-and-torture" routine is SO working for me!

(Nigel turns and notices the woman. He yelps.)

NIGEL: What the hell... Where did you get that??

GUARD: Under your bed, sire.

NIGEL: (HUSHES HIM) No, no, I mean... I wanted the iron maiden. Clue is in the "iron" bit? You know, torture box full of spikes!

GUARD 2: I thought that was a journalistic invention and thus, anachronistic.

NIGEL: Guards! Fix that irregularity in the script!

GUARD 1: Uh, Ok. (SQUINTS AT CUE CARD) "The mysterious French Knight Sir Gilles Estram brought this thing with him called an iron maiden, what we do not know whence it has came."

NIGEL: Good boy. Now, where is it?

GUARD 2: The French Knight took it so he can show it off.

NIGEL: (INDICATES INFLATABLE WOMAN) And THIS is the best you can do??

GUARD 1: Well, your mother's in the next cell.

NIGEL: (FOLDS ARMS) Well, she'll just have to do.

TURLOUGH: Thank you, god, thank you so, so much, you beautiful Trion deity, you!!

(In the main set, everyone is eating. The Doctor is flicking his forkfulls of food at the Iron Maiden sitting in the middle of the room.)

TEGAN: Uh... Doctor. Why are you doing that?

DOCTOR: It's my homage to Gilbert and George.

TEGAN: It's a hideous torture device.

DOCTOR: Ah, but is it art?

KING: ENOUGH! Get me a lute, somebody. Karioke time!

(Outside, Estram watches lighting crews gather up bits of police box.)

ESTRAM: OK, lads. Put it back together when we get to studio... Oh, no, we're filming.

(A red-haired man arrives on horseback arrives.)

ESTRAM: Oh, no, not ANOTHER redhead! This cannot bode well. Who the hell are you?

GEFF: I am the cousin to the owner of this castle what whose name I have just forgotten.

ESTRAM: Get away.

GEFF: Silence, knave - I am Michael J Jackson!

ESTRAM: Pull the other one.

GEFF: It's true!

ESTRAM: Do a moonwalk, then. Go on!

GEFF: Not THAT Michael Jackson, you retard grass-munching frog!

ESTRAM: Why have you interrupted this standard two-parter, Thriller Boy?

GEFF: I have returned from meeting the King as he signed Magna Carta.

ESTRAM: Oh, really? How interesting. Uh, I mean - WHAT? The King is here!

GEFF: Born on eagles wings? Strange things are afoot! Has the King alighted to Ranulf's castle on angel wings? When I left the King in London four hours ago. Can there be two King Johns???

ESTRAM: My God! This redheads more intelligent than all the production team put together!

(He knocks Geff unconscious with a mace.)


ESTRAM: (SHRUGS) Well, fancy that. It IS Michael Jackson.

(The funky King is playing a guitar.)

KING: Odd socks, Odd Socks,
There is no even pair.
I can't even blame the washer
Caus the fault is not in there.

I pin my socks together
I tie them with some string
I staple them with metal clips
While still upon my feet.


But somehow one still goes missing
The odd one's now long gone
I search and search, look everywhere
Under the couch and behind the chair
No luck, All I have cannot be spared
I have no pair to spare.

Odd socks, Odd socks
There is no pair to spare
I can't even blame the washer
Caus the fault is not in there.

I've tried hand washing
Drip drying,
Tying them in knots
I've even put them in Estram's vino
But nothing seems to work
And I end up with all odd socks.

I even placed a wanted ad
Pleading for some help
I've asked that they be returned to me
By twenty-five past three
But I received no answer
No reply has come
So I am left to contemplate
My red and green striped ones

Odd socks, Odd socks
I know I'll never find
These renegades, these runaways
For these poor bare feet of mine.

TEGAN: Wow. I don't know about you, but I really want to donate all my earthly goods to the Crusade.

DOCTOR: Wow. You're an idiot.

(Estram enters with Geff.)

DOCTOR: My god! King Richard! It's you!

KING: (WORRIED) Oh, feck!

GEFF: I am not King Richard.

DOCTOR: Yes, you are - I'd remember that ginger beard anywhere. Remember? We were on that boat when Robin Hood risked his life to tell you that that meddling monk was carrying a dagger and wanted to kill you?

KING: For the last time, Doctor, this is DOCTOR WHO, not THE LEGEND OF ROBIN HOOD!

DOCTOR: Oh, yes, I keep forgetting what crap I have to work with. You gotta admit, it's a damn nifty plot trick if the REAL King Richard turned up and found a FAKE King John. So, Mr. Jackson. Jackie... Jacko... Jack... Ja... J... What you up to?

GEFF: I was four hours out from London...

TEGAN: Wow, that's good traffic. Even for the 20th century.

GEFF: ...having just left the King and I find this obvious fakery in his place.

ESTRAM: Hey, that's not in the script!

GEFF: I know, but Pete's come up with such a good idea, I've decided to adlib.

ESTRAM: That's it! Let's drown the bastard in marzipan!

GUARD 2: We're out of that.

ESTRAM: Boiling oil?

GUARD 2: We've got some cooking sherry.


(The Doctor leaps to his feet.)

DOCTOR: Stop this.

KING: Why? It's just Michael Jackson for Cripe's sake. He'll be dead in part two.

DOCTOR: But you can't execute someone before desert. Especially after that song.

KING: Oh, well, I'll sing another one then.

TEGAN: Doctor, what have you done, you idiot??

(In the cell, Turlough and the Jailbait Queen are sharing a cigarette. A cue card lies nearby, unattended. It says ISN'T IT LUCKY THE MYSTERIOUS FRENCH KNIGHT WAS SHOWING US THIS ODD CUSTOM OF "SMOKING" TOBACCO. Nigel is sulking.)

NIGEL: How dare the guards chain me up "for a laugh"! Ooh, they be cruising for bruising!

TURLOUGH: Baby, this is brilliant.

JAILBAIT QUEEN: Will you stop then, your jackdaw meanderings and stay with me?

TURLOUGH: Hmm. Stay with you and that runt over there, or travel through time and space enjoying S&M tortures and tons of guilt-free sex... Ah, the agony of choice. No wonder the Doctor has so many companions. If he'd told me about this before hand, that crystal wouldn't been down the pan in no time.

NIGEL: Mother! You dishonour me.

TURLOUGH: That wouldn't be difficult, would it?

NIGEL: Silence, demon!

TURLOUGH: That's UNCLE demon, to you, young whippersnapper.

NIGEL: I shall have my revenge!

JAILBAIT QUEEN: Do you remember, my son, that time the wise old sage worked out who was your biological mother by offering to tear you apart and share you equally?

NIGEL: Yes, and you begged the other woman have me rather than let me die!

JAILBAIT QUEEN: No, I just didn't want to be lumbered with HALF of you, let alone all.


TURLOUGH: (KISSES QUEEN) Tell it to someone who cares, buster.

(Nigel sighs and turns to the inflatable woman.)

ESTRAM: Can I kill Jackson, now that you've created the right ambiance, my liege?

TEGAN: Anything - anything! Just make him STOP singing!

(The Doctor approaches Estram)

DOCTOR: How dare you sir! I demand satisfaction!

ESTRAM: What have I done to you, Monsiur Doctor?

DOCTOR: (SHRUGS) Nothing, really. I just really hate the French!

TEGAN: Doctor, you can't say that! It's racist!

DOCTOR: Heck, I'm not human, who cares? I'm allowed to hate Daleks and Cybermen, but not the French?? The French, whom I should point out huge clusters of baby's eyeballs that dangle from the ceiling like bunches of grapes and THAT'S considered a delicacy! And they kill tourists, hang them upside down from helicopters with cheese wire before you can become a citizen of France! And then they are ritualistically slaughtered...

RANULF: Yep, that sounds pretty racist.

DOCTOR: No, because the French aren’t actually human.

GEFF: Why do you REALLY hate them, Doctor? Really?

DOCTOR: (SIGHS) Because... because, my friends, they killed my second-best friend. My pet budgerigar, Rover. You see, one day, he was flying over Mururowa Atoll, when they were doing their nuclear testing and... (SOBS) he got cancer. Cancer of the testicles! (WEEPS) And this was all that’s left!

(He delves into his pocket and pulls out a dusty chicken nugget.)

DOCTOR: All that’s left of Rover - a radiation-riddled testicle. (SOBS) Poor Rover.

(He absent-mindedly takes a bite from the nugget as he wipes away his tears.)

DOCTOR: What kind of people would let a poor little budgie get testicular cancer like that? Huh? Answer me that! Well, I demand satisfaction! Gimme a sword!

(Estram hands him a sword. It is made of plastic and has a TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLE logo on it.)

DOCTOR: Thank you!

RANULF: Doctor, reconsider! If not for yourself, for ME! If you die, I'm stuck with my son.

DOCTOR: I won't be defeated, Sir Ranulf!

RANULF: He is reputed to be the finest swordsman in France!

DOCTOR: Fortunately, we are in England.

(The King claps his hands)

KING: I decree this castle is now officially on French soil until the completion of the swordfight.

DOCTOR: (CRIES) Oh, I am so utterly SCREWED!

TEGAN: Pull yourself together, Doctor! Think of Rover! Think of Adric! Think of the money!

DOCTOR: (NODS) Of course, you're right! En guard!

ESTRAM: Thanks for the warning!

DOCTOR: Thrust!

ESTRAM: Parry!

DOCTOR: Thrust!

ESTRAM: Parry!

DOCTOR: Thrust!

ESTRAM: Parry!

DOCTOR: Use the chandellier!

(Estram turns his blade upside down and uses the handle to tap the chandelier. It wobbles)

DOCTOR: Good enough, now thrust!

ESTRAM: Parry!

DOCTOR: Thrust!

ESTRAM: Parry!

DOCTOR: Thrust!

ESTRAM: Parry!

DOCTOR: Thrust!

ESTRAM: Parry!

DOCTOR: Thrust AND parry!

(The Doctor disarms Estram and easily snaps the sword.)

ESTRAM: (TERRIFIED) Oh no! Raw plastic! The horror!

DOCTOR: Die! You French freak! DIEEEEEEEEEE!

(He stabs Estram in the gut. Estram collapses. The Doctor does a little Mohammed Ali shuffle.)

DOCTOR: OO! Stings like a butterfly, floats like a bee!

(On the floor, Estram's face blurs, glows and changes to become...)

DOCTOR: Ah, Tony! There you are! (FROWNS) Wait a minute - why are you wearing that black beard?

(The regenerated Estram raises a short stubby black rod.)

RANULF: Mmm. Kinky!

TEGAN: That's no sex toy, that's the tissue compression eliminator!

RANULF: Mmm. VERY kinky!

DOCTOR: My god! You're the Master! So, the writers found some ludicrous excuse to save you from an impossible situation YET AGAIN! What do I have to do to you before the writers start paying attention and try and fit storylines together? Burn you to death? Freeze you in time? Turn you into a cat? WHAT?

MASTER: (EVIL, DIABOLICAL LAUGHTER) It's worse than that, Doctor! This story may only have one more episode to go - but I'm booked to appear in The Five Doctors.


(End credits begin)


Cameron Mason said...

Tried to post the following on Spara's blog:


YOA's comment has disappeared, yet Bernie's quote of it is still there.

More Soviet-style revisionist history Sparacus?


Came up saying I had to be a 'team member' to post a comment.

It means he's either:

a) Trying to block the spammers


b) Trying to stop criticism



Youth of Australia said...

I know.

I tell ya, this is going to cripple Spara's feedback. Sad but true, I'm the only regular follower of that blog. But if I can't be allowed to comment, why bother?

He's simply shut himself off from the truth and now wants Morrissey to be the Doctor and a guy from the Smiths to play Ben Chatham.

All in all: he's lost it.

Cameron Mason said...



Bernie Fishnotes said...

I don't think he's trying to prevent comments, he just doesn't visit his blog enough to delete the crude comments before they strike, so he;s just panicked and slammed the doors shut.

He'll relent soon...