(The Cardiff Millennium Centre. A canary-yellow roadster hurtles through the sky and crashes on the roof. A large, hairy scotsman in a flanelette and mirrored sunglasses lumbers out of the driver's seat, cackling like a lunatic.)
Moffat: AHAAAAH! And welcome to Doctor Who, the show which is already being bit-torrented across the globe and making filthy internet pirates look longingly at iView! This week, as the countdown to the departure of the longest-serving companions since... um... what's canon again? Anyway, as the countdown continues it's up the mightiest of the Who Team to tackle the difficult second-album-syndrome and give a dose of pure Whovian fistworthiness and give the licence-fee-paying public PRECISELY WHAT THEY DESERVE!
(Moffat approaches the Who team which consists of Gareth Roberts - a mad-eyed thug in a security guard uniform laughing insanely - Mark Gatiss - a slow, stupid-looking wrestler with antlers - Chris Chibnall - an athletic figure in jogging gear and a strange mullet and Russell T Davies - a vending machine with RTD printed on it.)
Moffat: The premise for this episode, should you be fistworthy enough to accept it, is to do Dinosaurs... ON A SPACESHIP! We have dinosaur CGI that would make Spielberg strangely aroused and that weak spineless dog Larry Miles weeping onto his copy of At The Earth's Core! We also have a bunch of stuff from one of the numerous proposed Blake's 7 revivals, including Dayna, Tarrant, Scorpio and some comedy robots. Now... which one of you is willing to take on this challenge?
Gatiss: STEVE! STEVE! PICK ME!!!
Moffat: Right. Chibnall. You're up.
Chibnall: The Chibmiester in da house! You can totally rely on me, Steve. I know what went wrong last time.
Moffat: You better do, Chibnall. I had faith enough to give you Silurians and you made me look an idiot.
Chibnall: Aw, Steve, I did my best.
Moffat: Yeah. That's what you said to the last guy when you wrote about a sex gas monster that killed men by giving them orgasms.
Chibnall: ...I'll shut up, Steve.
Gatiss: STEVE! HONEST, STEVE, I'LL MAKE IT WORK!
Moffat: Gatiss, I had the spend the last two years undoing the damage you did in Victory of the Daleks. Now clear off, get yourself some Tizer or something, and maybe I'll let you do some stuff when Amy and Rory are gone.
Gatiss: BUT I'M GREAT AT DOING THEM, STEVE! HONEST!
Moffat: Gatiss. Two words - wooden Amy being a retard.
Gatiss: THAT'S FIVE WORDS, STEVE!
Moffat: And where was that precision and insight when I needed it?!
(Moffat kick-boxes Gatiss over the edge of the roof.)
Roberts: What about me, Steve?
Moffat: You keep working on getting another sequel to The Lodger.
Roberts: I can do OTHER things, Steve.
Moffat: But nothing else has ever earned you... MAN OF FIST! Now get to it.
Roberts: You can't just backtrack and create another UNIT era, Steve! You can't knock down knowledge, replace it with ignorance and call it strength! Feng Sheui, Steve! FENG SHEUI!!!
(Moffat glares at him.)
Roberts: Can I at least bring back the Chelonians this time?
(Moffat continues to glare. Roberts runs away. He turns to Chibnall.)
Moffat: Go my son, go and double the fist! Make us proud to be sci-fi fans! Don't do Torchwood all over again!
Chibnall: I won't let you down, Steve!
Moffat: You better not.
(Moffat cackles, kisses his thumb and then gives Chibnall the thumbs up. Explosion.)
(Another explosion. Moffat leaps onto the bonnet of the roadster as Cardiff burns. Watching him are Roberts dressed as a giant turtle, Gatiss in a neckbrace, Chibnall in the Man of Fist vest, RTD vending machine, and a panda outfit with a sign around its neck saying HELEN RAYNOR.)
Moffat: Well, well, well, wasn't THAT a satisfying way to spend 45 minutes! We got social commentary, domesticated triceratops, vigilante justice, nuclear satire, sexual politics and also resolved one of the greatest historical mysteries as well as creating yet another off-the-top-of-our-head magnificent seven gang that whupped anything Captain Jack Harkness ever achieved. So let this be a lesson to you: anyone can do gritty social realism in the backstreets of Manchester with regional accents, but only weak-spineless dogs waste their time on anything that doesn't have DINOSAURS on a SPACESHIP! DON'T YOU EVER WATCH THIS SHOW AGAIN! GRRRNAAAAAHHHHH!!!!