BEFORWARDS

Dawn came to the Thousand Year Wood. It had snowed
again, as it always did. Figment poked his head out of his
little burrow and made his careful way through the fresh
white snow.

He wondered if today he’d meet Whoot the Owl. Whoot
had been working on a Special Snowing Song, the words of
which he’d learned by heart yesterday, but today they were
gone from the tip of his tongue.

“Oh dear,” said Figment. “I must stop keeping things on
the tip of my tongue.”

He carried on his happy way through the Thousand Year
Wood, trying ever so hard to remember that song. Songs
were like that in the Thousand Year Wood. You’d go to
sleep with them laid out ready to slip on the next morning,
only to wake up and find them all covered in the snow of a
new day.

Figment wondered which of his friends he’d find in the
snow today. Perhaps TymeWore (such a sad little donkey)
or maybe he’d be whisked away by Dr Roo, who’d want
him to go hunting for Gallifrump.

Figment pottered on, until he stubbed his toe against
something in the snow.

“Ow,” said Figment and scratched his head when he’d
stopped rubbing his toe. “What’s this?”

It was a tree, hidden in the snow. He worked to uncover
it, singing a jolly little Uncovering Song as he worked. The
tree was square and blue, which was exciting, as Figment
had never seen a blue tree before. There was some writing
on the blue tree, which Figment couldn’t quite make out.
He scratched his head (which had seen a good deal of
scratching) and spelt out what he could.

“OFFICERSANDCARS
RESPOND TO URGENT CALLS”

Figment read it again and he smiled. “How terribly nice
of Officer Sandcars,” he said to himself. Figment wondered
ever so much what he looked like.

“I do hope my call is urgent,” said Figment. “Or, at least,
that it sounds urgent.”

Puzzling this problem, Figment wandered away into
the Thousand Year Wood. He was humming to
himself, humming a tune which the strange blue tree
had taught him . . .

FULL STOP

(after ‘The End’)

When I was One

I was not much fun

When I was Two

I was barely through

When I was Three

I liked strong tea

When I was Four

I hated a bore

When I was Five

I was so alive

When I was Six

I somehow could never quite fit in to what was expected of me, well, not exactly but that was because things weren’t neat and there are no easy rhymes in the universe and scansion, my dear Peri, is a thing that’s really overrated and you only have to look at a sunset to realise that creation itself is a poem and oh no wait, got it, of course, Fix! The line needed to end with Fix! (Or tricks. That works too.)

When I was Seven

I sent gods to Heaven

When I was Eight

Kissing was great

When I was Nine

I fought time

When I was Ten

I began again

When I was Eleven

I totally got even

When I was Twelve, I became as clever as clever

And now I think I’ll be Twelve for ever and ever*

(*Unless, of course, there is a terrible catastrophe involving explosions, radiation or heights. And then I guess we’ll find out what comes next. But the eyebrows won’t be as good.)

CONSULTATION EXERCISE

(after ‘Disobedience’)

“Quarks, Quarks

Cybermen, Cybermen

Mechonoids, Voord, Zarbi

Take great care!” said the Doctor

“Although I am only me.

It’s more than it’s worth to invade the Earth, without

First consulting me.”

“Quarks, Quarks

Cybermen, Cybermen

Mechonoids, Voord, Zarbi

If your Battlefleet happens to

In the vicinity be

Then I’ll teach you – reluctantly”

(said the Dr, said he)

“To give the Earth a rather wide berth, rather

Than tangle with me.”

Davros

Put up a notice

“WANTED DEAD or ALIVE!

(BEST DEAD)

THIS NASTY IMPOSTOR

THAT SOME CALL THE DOCTOR

JUST CANNOT BE SHOWN TO THRIVE

(PS: DO LEAVE OFF THE EARTH, IT’S REALLY

OUR TURF, AND WELL,

WE WOULD SO HATE TO FIGHT).”

Quarks, Quarks

Cybermen, Cybermen

Mechonoids, Voord, Zarbi

They all took some exception

To this unkind direction.

“So that is how old man Davros

Thinks it is going to be?

To tell us the Earth is his private turf ? The cheek

Of the man. Well, we’ll see.”

Quarks, Quarks

Cybermen, Cybermen

(Commonly known as Them)

Told their friends, relations and alien nations

That, well

Sol 3 was a bit of a gem.

“We’ll conquer the Earth for all that it’s worth. But first

We’ll give Davros something to see.”

Quarks, Quarks,

Many and all and each

Got up a peach of a fleet

With which

Davros a lesson to teach,

But sadly themselves overreached.

And the battle’s too grim to repeat.

Save that

Ev’ron’s plans for the Earth, no matter their worth, ended

In total defeat.

“Q. Q.

C. C.

M. V. & ZB!”

Said the Dr (Commonly known as He)

“Oh dear

Oh dear and oh dear me

I told you so and that was my plea.

This is what happens you see.

It is more than it’s worth to invade the Earth, without

First consulting me.”

DALEK

(after ‘Furry Bear’)

If I were a Dalek

And a big Dalek too

I shouldn’t much care

If it froze or snew.

I shouldn’t much mind

If it rained acid

I’d be all lead-lined

With a coat like his.

For I’d have no eyes just a stalk to see

And I’d have no legs but I’d glide nicely

There’d be no arms but my big gun would kill

And there’d be a sucker which would, um, still-

I would have no heart and I’d have no soul

Which would help when being lonely takes its toll.

If I were a Dalek

And a big Dalek too

I shouldn’t much care

What happened to you.

You could run away

You could say goodbye

And I’d be all lead-lined

With a coat like his.

TAKING THE AIR

(after ‘Sand-between-the-toes’)

There was a roaring in the sky

The pigeons cried as they blew by

We tried to talk but had to shout

Someone had let the Atmos out.

Air is lovely, air is clean

Life without is jolly mean.

Sontarans are boist’rous fellows

If a trifle ’clined to bellow.

Why they’ve stol’n the air I’ve no idea

But it makes living tricky here.

The sky is nice, the sky is blue

But right now it’s choking too.

Nanny says best not to worry

Just hold on tight, don’t you hurry.

The Doctor, he will sort it out

So she was taught and has no doubt.

It’s getting dark, it’s getting dire-

Good Lord! And now the sky’s on fire!

Doctor, Doctor, do please hurry

Nanny has begun to worry.

Big Ted’s gone quiet – it’s his last breath

I fear we may now choke to

RETIRING

(after ‘Knight-in Armour’)

On days I don’t want to Doctor much

I worry that I shall lose my touch

All that running down those corridors

Thwartings of tyrants and dreadful bores

Brave rescues from the Foul Monster’s Lair

And firm trouncing all the Demons There.

Chaos never ends, oh that’s the shame

So yes I tire of just one more game.

Sometimes when the same old fight begins

I fear, just once, I’ll let Evil win.

And then, on second thought, perhaps I won’t

Because they’re Monsters, and so I don’t.

On days like that I don’t think at all

That being the Doctor’s so bad after all.

WAITING FOR A FRIEND

(after ‘Rice Pudding’)

“What is the matter with Sarah Jane?

She stands and stands out in the rain.

Let’s just ask, for sure she’ll tell

I do not think that she looks well . . .”

Owl and I

I and Owl

Wait for a friend

Who never comes.

(Well, not yet)

Yes, he did not come today

But he’ll surely come tomorrow.

Maybe he came last Wednesday week?

Oh, that’d be a sorrow.

Owl and I

I and Owl

Waiting for a friend

Who never comes.

Don’t you worry –

It’s just like HIM

“I’ll not forget you.”

(All toothy grin)

I’m quite sad,

My brain’s disordered

I’m sure it’s NOT

What the Doctor ordered.

The cheek!

The nerve!

He dumps me here,

Sight unseen

In holy, roly, poly

Aberdeen!!!

No, he did not come today.

No, will not come tomorrow.

He did not come last Wednesday week.

Face it, girl.

Oh, and-

Bus fare borrow.

“What was the matter with Sarah Jane?

She no longer stands out in the rain.

She smiles and smiles and won’t say why

There’s that odd look in her eye.”

Owl and I

I and Owl

Waited for a friend.

Who never came.

CONTENTS

(after ‘Happiness’)

The Doctor

Had

A nice

New face.

It fitted

Well.

Went

Into place.

The hair was

Short.

The nose just

Right.

The legs were

Firm.

The eyes quite

Bright.

The problem

Was:

“These clothes

Won’t Do!”

“They’re off-the-

Peg

I’ll have something

New!”

“A frilly

Shirt?”

(Think I’m over them)

“Time for a

Scarf ?”

(A touch too soon)

“Some sturdy

Boots!”

(Handy for the moon)

“And finally

A nice new

Hat.”

“And that,”

(said the Doctor)

“Is that.”

DEAR HUMANS

What a funny little planet

All green and blue

And what funny people in it

Including you.

A few million years since you crawled

Up out the mud,

Looked at the skies and how they called

It’s in your blood.

An inventive, invincible

Curious species.

Yet destructive, stupid, cruel.

How odd truth is.

You’ve cosmic wars and holocausts

Fought and survived.

Flood, famine, solar flares and plague

Suffered through, thrived.

You’re puny defenceless bipeds

Homo Sapiens.

Yet wonderfully tough, I’ve said.

(I’m man’s best friend.)

For here is the human spirit

Undoubtedly.

Amongst the stars, ready to outsit

Eternity.

Indomitable!

In

dom

it

able!

THE DEATH LIST

(after ‘The King’s Breakfast’)

The King asked

The Queen and

The Queen asked

The Chamberlain

“Could we have the Doctor made

So very very dead?”

The Queen asked

The Chancellor.

The Chancellor

Said “Certainly

I’ll go and talk to

The People

Now

Before they go to bed.”

The Chancellor

He exited

And went and told

The Alderman

“Don’t forget the Doctor must

be very nicely dead.”

The Alderman told

The Vizier

The Vizier

Said “Certainly

I’ll go and talk to

The Prime Minister

Before she goes to bed.”

The Prime Minister

Said “I hear you”

And went and told

The Guard Captain

“His Majesty would like the Doctor

To be swiftly, neatly dead.”

The Guard Captain told

The Henchmen

The Henchmen

They said “Obviously,

We’ll go and tell

The Assassin

Before they go to bed.”

The Henchmen

They nodded

And went and told

The Assassin

“Don’t forget you’d better make

the Doctor very, very dead.”

The Masked Assassin

Said slyly

“You’d better tell

His Majesty

That many people nowadays

Like democracy

Instead.”

The King said

“Bother!”

And then he said

“Democracy?”

The King sobbed. “Oh infamy!”

And went back to bed.

“Nobody,”

He whimpered

“Could call me

A nasty man.

I only want

Eternal rule

And the Doctor dead.”

The Queen said

“There! There!”

And went and told

The Chancellor.

The Chancellor

Said “There! There!”

And went to the people.

The people said

“There! There!

We didn’t really mean it.

We’re happy in our misery

Take the Doctor in our stead.”

The Queen took

The Doctor

And brought her to

His Majesty.

The King said

“Doctor, eh?”

And he bounded out of bed.

(And the Doctor smiled

Quietly)

“You know

I was your Masked Assassin.

Fraid you’ll have to do the job

Of killing me instead.”

The King said

“Nobody

Could call me

A fussy man.

But must I be the one

to make the Doctor dead?”

The Doctor said

“Certainly.

I’ve emptied out your slave mines

And your guards they have all fled.

The people

Have spoken

They’re on their way

With pitchforks

AND

I think you’d better try exile instead . . .”

SPECIAL FEATURES

Do you suppose

An Adipose

Nose

Grows and Grows

The more that it Knows?

*

Do you think

An Angel

Shrinks

When it Blinks?

I really think

It becomes

Extinct

When it Blinks.

*

Does an Ood

Refuse its food

When it’s up

to no good?

*

When a Judoon

FO-BO-SO

BO-GO-NO-SO-

PO-PO-DO-MA-HO.

*

What happens when

A Quark

Barks in the dark?

Do the other Quarks hark?

*

And really does

A Yeti

Forget where he

Gets his

Spaghetti?

*

And is the Master

Somehow Faster

In a disaster?

(No.)

THE HARD STAIR

(after ‘Halfway Down’)

Halfway down the stairs

is a man

who shouldn’t

be.

He whispers sometimes

in my ears

of death

and lonely

nighttime fears.

And what one day

he’ll do

to me.

Sometimes I’ll be

going up.

And sometimes

I’ll be going down.

But he’s always

Always

Halfway up the stairs

Waiting with a smile

That’s worse than

any frown.

Sometimes I’ll forget

if I was going up

or if

I

was

coming down.

That is when

I’ll see the man

the man

who shouldn’t be.

I hope

and hope

that one day

he won’t be me.

A SIMPLE TRUTH

(after ‘Lines And Squares’)

Avoid the lines, tread in the squares

Or else They’ll catch you unawares

To escape their dread designs

Tread on the squares, and not the lines.

But real life is not so simple

Evil does not follow principle

Not all monsters lurk in corners

Squares and lines aren’t there to warn us.

Rules I think are just distractions

The greatest evil is inaction.

Rudeness, hatred and being brash

And, of course, a love of cash.

By all means tread the squares, not the lines

But also remember – do be kind

To those you may not understand

And bear in mind the other hand.

We fear what’s past and what’s to come

The real villains are a zero sum.

Enjoy the now – confront what’s there

And . . . tread a line and not a square.

THE MASTER’S BEARD

I have a lovely beard

So long and pointy

I think it very

much suits

me.

I have a lovely beard

Very lush you see

I really hope

you do

agree.

I have a lovely beard

It means a lot to me.

Look into my eyes

and obey

obey

me.

THE TOYMAKER

(after ‘Knights and Ladies’)

There is in my old picture book

A page at which I never look.

The toys within all seem to cry

And when I look then so will I.

The playing cards have such sad faces

The Jack, Queen, King and all the Aces.

A dolly and a teddy bear

Sigh and wail in full despair.

Girls and boys all turned to toys

So much joy each life destroys.

They came here and they tried their best

Do have a go, my latest guest.

I put them there, you know, my friend

Not all my games have happy ends.

What’s that? You think I’d let them out?

Their snakes were laddered, without a doubt,

So many, many years ago.

Perhaps I might – you never know.

Take care you don’t end up the same.

Now – care to try my Trilogic Game . . . ?

GOODBYES

Jamie, Zoe and I

Don’t like to say our goodbyes.

Once we’ve saved your isotopes,

Or given poor fish people hopes,

Returned Himalaya’s Holy Ghanta,

Or proved there are such things as Macra,

Wonders worked with static electricity,

Or sadly blown up your ancient city,

Driven Yeti out of Covent Garden,

Secured for Mercury miners a pardon,

Say we’ve saved the Moonbase with a tea-tray,

Taught logicians to open tombs my way,

(You know this is making me giddy!)

Imagine I’ve misdirected Krotons,

Or baffled Quarks with misplaced protons,

And captured double evil space pirates,

Or my Mexican twin (like me, but irate),

And yes, once we’ve thwarted angry seaweed,

Met Ann Travers and gone weak-kneed,

Fired deadly rockets from the Wheel In Space,

Gone to meet myself with another face,

(Lots of velvet, lack of grace)

And we’ve banished the Great Intelligence,

Nixed Dominators gaining eminence,

Managed to hold back another Ice Age,

Dealt with the Emperor Dalek’s great rage,

Arrested the shape shifters at Gatwick,

Stopped Zaroff (he laid it on a bit thick),

And taught the Daleks how to play at trains,

While Cybermen fiddled about in drains,

Forced an end to all war, gone on the run,

And yes, called home and put a stop to fun,

Well, once we’ve done all that and a bit more too . . .

We’ll be off.

THE FLOWER SOUR

(after ‘Daffowdowndilly’)

She had a yellow smiling face

Her stem was brightest green

She turned it to the human race

And quivered with a sheen

She blew them deadly kisses

And smothered all with plastic

They perished by the thousand

Their deaths were quite traumatic

But still she wore her smiling face

And her stem of pure Nestene.

THE COMPANION’S LAMENT

(after ‘Independence’)

I never really cared for

“Don’t run that way.”

I pursed my lips at

“Follow what I say.”

I wasn’t a fan of

“Tell the guard you’re ill.”

I was frankly tired by

“Stand very still.”

I never liked

“You wouldn’t understand.”

I rather frowned at

“Hush now, hold my hand.”

I was not okay with

“I’ll explain later.”

Or

“It’s a Tissue Compression Eliminator.”

Then there was the rotten

“There’s no time for why.”

And the awful

“Goodbye, my friend, goodbye.”

WINNING

Peoples of the universe

Attend please carefully

I am the Master

And I rule eternally.

I shall visit all the planets

And every galaxy

I’ll label every comet

It all belongs to me.

You may call me Master

(I’m not fussy ’bout the The)

Just look into my eyes

Obey and worship me.

At last I’ve gone and done it

I own both stars and sea

I’ll make all kings and gods

Bow down on bended knee.

We’ll have just heaps of meetings

With proposals and decrees

They’ll give me all their riches

And hon’rary degrees.

I’ll never find it boring

I’ll rule them all with glee

But I wonder when the Doctor

Will put a stop to me?

“Peoples of the universe

Listen please to me.

For I am the Doctor

And I’d love a cup of tea.”

SAID ALICE

(after ‘Buckingham Palace’)

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

The young Time Lady should be on her guard.

“I think your name is terrible hard,”

Said Alice.

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

She’d surely never met that girl before.

“Ooh, look a dainty marble floor!”

Said Alice.

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

Being caught in a time loop’s a terrible thing.

“A moment’s respite before the reset swing,”

Said Alice.

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

“Something’s breached the transduction barrier!”

“Romana, you’re just a terrible worrier,”

Said Alice.

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

“You’re nothing but a psychovore!”

“I’ve escaped here from a terrible war,”

Said Alice.

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

“I’m eating this planet minute by minute

Until you’re dust and there’s nothing in it,”

Said Alice.

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

“Just what are you doing?”

Said Alice.

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with Alice.

“I’m breaking the loop and throwing you out

To bring your defeat

My poem’s not neat

And some of my rhymes

Are terrible crimes

But it should form a reasonable basis

For rupturing a chronic hysteresis,”

Said Romana.

“Some people should not be allowed near poetry,”

Said Alice.

“Also, noooooooooooooo!”

Said Alice.

They’re changing guard at Rassilon’s Palace

Romanadvoratrelundar went down with . . . “Oh.”

“Something wrong?” “I don’t think so.”

The Doctor said, “Well, it looks like snow.

Who’s Alice?”

THE HAPPY BRIG

Alistair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart

Had saved the world and this time he knew it.

It wasn’t the Doctor (He was on Mars)

It wasn’t Ms Shaw (She was playing with jars)

It hadn’t been Ms Grant (For she’d been late)

And, due to a cold, it wasn’t Mike Yates.

And of course, we really should mention

It hadn’t, oh hadn’t, been Sgt Benton.

Gordon Alistair Lethbridge Stewart

Had saved the world and this time he knew it.

The PM had not taken his call

Word had spread throughout Whitehall.

They’d made excuses in Geneva

“Perhaps a touch of dengue fever?”

The game was up, they began to fear

It was all in the hands of the Brigadier.

Lethbridge Alistair Gordon Stewart

Had saved the world and this time he knew it.

It wasn’t with bullets (they never worked)

He didn’t use nanites (they always lurked)

It wasn’t a bomb (though they were a blast)

He didn’t lay on a chopper (they were too fast)

He could never rely on nuclear

Nor set hands on a trusty bazooka

Alistair Lethbridge Gordon Stewart

Had saved the world and this time he knew it.

It may be laying it on a touch too thick

But it was honestly nothing ballistic

He just strode out to the UFO

With a cheery smile and a fond hello.

“Terribly sorry, you’ve got the wrong date

This world won’t be conquered by a feller who’s late.”

Don’t tangle with Earth or you’ll be made fools

By a chap who obeys the Queensbury rules.

Alistair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart

Had saved the world and this time he knew it.

TO ANONYMOUS

I’ve 100 words a minute

And not one of them’s for you.

You’re a thing I can’t describe

Don’t know your what or why or who.

You’re an itch I’m not meant to scratch

A take-a-way unordered,

A song that doesn’t come on shuffle,

A shopping trip afforded,

The answer to my horoscope.

“Strangers are friends you’ve not yet met,”

It says so in my magazine

Along with Katie’s Diet Secrets,

Psychic poodles and Sudoku,

Plus a girl whose husband minced her.

All human life’s therein – but mine.

“You’ve got it all!” – I’m not convinced.

I’m not seeking tall, dark and handsome

More sort of wiry, sort of lanky.

No muscled Sven, no hirsute Barry

Just suited with a pocket hanky.

The missing bit in my life’s sky.

No lover – just that best, best friend

It’s your name carried on their heart

They’re your laugh, your mate, your end.*

*We all deserve one of these (except for Nerys)

You’re one more bus that I’ve just missed

Like when there’s aliens arriving

And I’m on safari, karaoke,

A hen night, or scuba diving.

I’ve skipped a page in my life’s book

Some brilliant’s missing from my history

I guess we all feel that, I guess

And yet it’s so my mystery.

A stone I saw in a museum

“Grandad! It’s me – in Ancient Rome!”

And it was, I’m so sure it hurt.

“Is it, luv? It’s late. Let’s go home.”

Like there’s something I’m not being told

A locked door’s in my memory.

Something’s gone and gone for good

In a life of mist and rain and grey

I cannot put my finger on

Why they’d take my sunny day.

A film without a car explosion

A year without December

Beckham in a bunny onesie

The shape of just can’t remember.

You’re that one trick that mothers know

Terms and conditions, PPI

That lucky thousandth visitor

You’re what’s missing – Life’s Big Why.

Seeking the best friend I’ll never know

I give up. I always do.

I’ve a hundred words a minute

And not one of them for you.

CURTAIN

(after ‘Brownie’)

At the end of time there is a great big curtain

Something lies behind it, but I don’t know who.

I’m sure it’s there but I’m not quite certain.

It may be imagination – in which case whose?

One day I went and looked behind the curtain

But I went and there was no thing there

God or monster, no-one said “How do you do?”

But there’s something waiting of that I’m sure

And I know that one day it’ll say “Boo!”

THE FIVE DOCTORS

(after ‘The Three Foxes’)

Once upon a time there were five little Doctors

They went to Gallifrey and frankly they shocked her.

One got lost along the way in a temporal fracture

The rest went to the Dead Zone and a secret unlocked-er.

They faced off against dastard interlocutors,

Scrambled entry coders while time tick-tocked-er.

Thwarted Cybermen and an agent provocateur

Escaped from mad Yeti and a Raston Robot-er.

They dodged mind probes from a vengeful chief proctor,

They ate dainty pineapple and knocked out the Master,

Read Old High Gallifreyan and roared with laughter,

They unmasked the President and cunning impostors,

Then escaped quickly. And Flavia? They mocked her.

A wilder story you could not concocter

That’s all that I know of the five little Doctors.

SOMETHING BORROWED, SOMETHING BLUE

(after ‘The Wrong House’)

I went into a box and it wasn’t a box.

On the inside it was big, on the outside it was small.

And it had a garden

A swimming pool

A library

It wasn’t like a box at all.

I went into a box and it wasn’t a box.

It had no shelves, just a great big hall.

And it had some snowmen

And kitchens

And wardrobes

It wasn’t like a box at all.

I went into a box and it wasn’t a box.

It had lots of rooms for nothing at all.

And it had corridors.

And butterflies.

And galleries.

It wasn’t like a box at all.

I went into a box and it wasn’t a box.

I asked it who owned it and it smiled.

It said no-one owned it.

No-one.

No-one

No-one owned that box at all.

I went into a box and it wasn’t a box.

I asked the box to go wandering.

We could go to planets

We could visit stars

Or Tuesday.

That box could go anywhere at all.

And so we did.

THE GUARDIANS

Creation has two Guardians

One is Black and one is White

One’s for when things go too wrong

And one’s for when they go too right.

“The problem is,” the White One said,

“Every day I’m rushed off my feet –

Evil, plague, famine, war, untold dead

Life’s such a mess – it’s just not neat.”

“I’m fine with that,” the Black One said

“It makes my life so simple

There’s knitting, jigsaws, baking bread,

Hobbies help to fill my time – it’s ample.”

“That’s the point, my dear old friend,”

Said White – “Things they could be neater

Let’s bring this division to an end

(And thank you for the sweater).”

“Oh dear,” the Black One shut his book

His face was not so rosy.

“To draw a line, how bad that’ll look,

Just when I’m getting cosy.”

“I call upon the Key To Time

To bring about some balance!” cried White

“An end to chaos, mess and crime?”

Sighed Black, “Say I’ve not got that right!

“Fine, well fine, for this I’ve planned

Your tiresome schemes I’ll thwart

Has White a champion in mind?

I hope you’ve given it some thought.”

“There’s one I trust the Key to find,

The Time Lord called the Doctor.

They say he has a brilliant mind . . .

Oh –” The White Guard spoke to laughter.

THE BOY WONDER

I’m very good at maths

So why does no-one like me?

It doesn’t add up

(That’s a joke, I’m good at those).

I’m cleverer than anybody else

But no-one seems to care.

I am so bright.

It’s just not fair.

I do times tables in my bed at night.

Ask me a square root, I’m sure to know

And I’ve all the fun primes to hand

I know pi to that nth degree

And Fibonacci’s not a mystery

And yet, and yet, the sadness is

That great as numbers are,

They’re just not friends.

STEPS

I love that fresh new planet smell

A world untrodden – it’s so swell

Just over that mountain

Or across that plain

Adventure is waiting.

Beyond that fenced-off gating.

Stay Off The Grass! Keep Out!

Intruders Will Be Shot!

Top Secret! Look, Just Stay Away!

Ah.

My feet shall bend your way.

What’s around that deadly corner?

Last words from a mourner?

A city in rubble?

An old friend in trouble?

Bonkers mad-eyed priests?

Invites to their feasts?

Helpful slave girls to charm?

Kings to rescue from harm?

Ancient curses to lift?

Fallen girders to shift?

Famous names to drop?

Lethal countdowns to stop?

(I love it when they get to 001)

It’s all just such fun.

Each world’s a fresh blank page

I admit – it’s my stage.

And it all starts – I cannot hide

With that first

step

outside.

THE RED AND THE BLUE

(after ‘The Dormouse and the Doctor’)

There once was a Dormouse who lived in a shed

As battle raged between loyalists (blue) and rebels (red)

And all day long he’d a wonderful view

Of victories (red) and triumphs (blue).

A Doctor came hurrying past and he cried:

“Good grief little friend, how come you’ve survived?

What with all the massacres and bombs and whatnot?

Well, it seems dear chap, you’ve been luckily forgot.”

The Dormouse winced at his view and sadly replied

“But can’t you stop it?” “Oh, I’ve tried and I’ve tried,”

The Doctor he vowed, “I’ve used charm and persuasions,

I’ve even faked up an alien invasion.”

“But red and blue really want to wipe out each other,

Cities, families, mother against mother

They can’t even agree on what they’re fighting for

They just thirst for more, more of this stupid, stupid war.”

“It’s said,” ventured the Dormouse, “It began in Heaven,

Great battles among giants raging in the skies.

What’s happening here is just poison in the well

As those arguing gods turn creation into Hell.”

The Doctor he sighed. “You’re well informed for a mouse,

Permit me to suggest a lovely change of house.

My ship’s over there, we shall reach it with ease

And I promise you it offers just roomfuls of cheese.”

The Doctor and the Dormouse, they went their sad way

And left battle behind them without further say.

Bombardments, and screams, oh the two sides they skirmished

Plenty of atrocities (blue) and victories (red).

And so the planet fell, its life force at an end

But at last, at least, the Doctor had made a new friend.

THE MARA

Into the woods went the girl.

She knew mother didn’t want it, so.

“Shall we talk?” said the snake.

“But I’m a good little girl. No!”

“I fear we will,” smiled the snake.

“Are you really so very good?

That’s not what I think

Or why would you walk in the wood?”

The little girl did not reply.

“Life is full of reasons Not To,

Don’t Touch and Don’t Ask Why.

This is where I agree with you.”

“But my chick, it doesn’t have to be

Just hold out your hand and

Look at me.

Look at me.

And each other we’ll understand

Splendidly.

No, look at me.

Look

At

Me.”

The young girl came out of the woods

Eventually

And her mother she was waiting.

“What’s This? How dare you disobey!”

She was really shouting.

“Good girls know not to go that way!”

“Why just look at your knees

Bad things happen to girls

Who climb up trees!

And what have you done to your curls?

“There’s monsters lurking in those woods

I warned you for a reason

I want to keep you good

Innocence is a short season.

“My sweet, you are in quite a state

Let’s clean you up ’fore you go wild.”

“Mother you’re too late,”

And then the hungry girl, she smiled.

SHORTNESS OF BREATH

Tainted Love and chips,

Sunshine on her lips,

Red wine and Women Wept,

Pass the port Harriet,

Amazing ears, lopsided grin,

Always feeling the Earth’s spin,

Vinegar and bananas,

Captain Jack’s Pyjamas,

England in the Blitz,

High tea at the Ritz,

Kronkburger and Pajatas,

Genghis Khan and Blue Peter.

One brave weather balloon,

Poor old Moxx of Balhoon.

Lynda with a Y

Jackie Tyler’s shepherd’s pie.

Even Auton Plastic

These things are fantastic.

Coleslaw and pickled onions,

Zombies in Cardiff dungeons.

Cassandra, Metaltron,

Dickens left the gas on.

Bad Wolf or Dalek Scheme

Are you my Repeated Meme?

The Mighty Jagrafess,

Adam’s weird new face,

The Emperor Dalek’s fleet

And my two left feet.

Bad Wolf and Clive’s Shed

Those walking undead.

Perfect Brides and Nestenes

Over-active nanogenes.

Slitheen romancing

Have we done dancing?

The fear of the loner

Never going to Barcelona.

Surviving war galactic

These things are not fantastic.

Fantastic or not

They all meant

A lot.

ODE TO A KRYNOID

(after Pooh’s Good Hum)

The more it snows

(Diddley-dum)

The more it grows

(Diddley-dum)

The more it goes

(Diddley-dum)

On killing.

And nobody knows

(Diddley-dum)

As it flowers

(Diddley-dum)

And it devours

(Diddley-dum)

If there’s a way

(Diddley-dum)

Of it stopping.

(Oo-ee-ooo)

TO HER COY DOCTOR

Had we but world enough and time,

This coyness, Doctor, were no crime.

We would sit down, and think which way

To turn the pace of our love’s day.

But that, alas, will never do

For I well, my love, know you.

Or else we’d sail on time’s tides

Fighting love’s war ’pon both sides

Me quicksilver’d like a Rutan

You steadfast as Sontaran –

I’d be slick of wit, sylph of form

You like a grape in Benidorm.

Our loves approach from diff’rent routes

Yours often tangled where mine shoots.

My heart falls for each shifting face

As you grow wise and tall in grace

No mind which course our bodies send

A Library’s where we start and end.

Our middle’s where we most agree

A muddle’s what the others see.

True, though I do kill you at the start

It’s you who bore me through the heart.

Sometimes we blaze like Perseids

I shout your love from Pyramids.

Others, you’ve aeons to say your love

But would rather talk about your glove,

Its touch doubtless tender, but still

Leaves not a smudge on windowsill.

You tread time and leave no traces

Beyond a truce twixt warring races.

Though my dear holds me in prison

One touch frees me with oblivion.

From the crash of the Byzantium

To the towers of Derilium

Our race is one long arc of fun

For some it’s just a Demon’s Run.

I’d give my age to your every part

And the last breath should speak your heart.

I’d chase you cross Mutter’s Spiral

I’ll make our love nano-viral

No matter where it is you hide

My path draws me ’ventually to your side.

Remember this most certainly

That feelings fill eternity

For at my back I always hear

Your blue box roaring near.

And yonder all behind us lie

Seas of wasted opportunity.

Give up my love, give in to fate

It’s sometimes not the girl who waits.

Let’s forget for once our duty

And gather up in arms our beauty

For though our days hold to the sun

It’s yet our nights that see us run.

CHRISTMAS ON MARS

Why does it never snow on Mars?

I’ll find it out for my memoirs.

Martians I’ve met come from when it’s cold

I guess they must be jolly old.

Mars has had a change in climate

It all depends on how you time it.

Some find that good, others couldn’t be sorrier

Such as, my old chums, the Ice Warriors

Azaxyr, Varga, Sskel, Turoc,

Izlyr, Slaar, Ssorg, Zondal, Skaldak

Fellows of fine noble mettle

Though with names like angry kettles.

No wonder they do hiss and shout

When there’s so little ice about

It’s one thing when with the stars you’ve warred

To come back and find your home world’s thawed

Perhaps it’s only time who really knows

Why on Mars it never snows.

SKIPPING SONG

(after ‘Hoppity’)

Hippity-hoppity

To the shoppity

Goes Jackie Tyler!

Hoppity-skippity

From the market

Jackie comes home.

The phone it has not rung.

The phone it has not rung.

Is her daughter still alive?

Hoppity-hop!

* * *

Bouncity-bounce

Through space

Falls Katarina

Gaspity-gasp

Struggling to breathe

Poor Katarina

Will her god rescue her?

Will her god rescue her?

Well, gods like sacrifice

Sighs Katarina.

* * *

Whizzity-whizzity-whirr

To the Conversion Chamber

Goes Yvonne Hartman

Buzzity-buzzity-slice

The drills aren’t quite nice

Thinks Yvonne Hartman

I did my duty

I did my duty

Oh god.

* * *

THE GALACTIC COUNCIL

Twelve men went to mow

Went to mow down all creation

A badger and a Christmas Tree

And one was called Celation.

Twelve men went to mow

Went to mow down all creation

A badger and a Christmas Tree

And one they called Celation.

With the help of Mavic Chen

And a full emm of Taranium

They went to mow down all creation.

Twelve men went to mow

Went to mow down all creation

A badger and a Christmas Tree

And one they called Celation.

Plus Malpha, Beaus, Warrien

Then Sentreal with Mavic Chen

And PS that full emm of Taranium

They went to mow down all creation.

Twelve men went to mow

Went to mow down all creation

A badger and a Christmas Tree

And one they called Celation.

Plus Malpha, Beaus, Warrien

And Sentreal, and Mavic Chen

With Trantis, Monsieur Gearon,

Plus don’t forget that full emm of Taranium

They went to mow down all creation.

Twelve men went to mow

Went to mow down all creation

A badger and a Christmas Tree

And one they called Celation.

Plus Malpha, Beaus, Warrien

And Sentreal, magic Mavic Chen

Jane Trantis, groovy Gearon,

AND the Fifth Galaxy’s Zephon,

(Sadly having to give it a miss

Was the Embodiment Gris).

And you won’t forget that full emm of Taranium!

They went to mow down all creation

I think that’s nearly all

The members of that delegation

(But we can never be quite sure

Due to archival obliteration)

But

(one more time)

There’s a badger, a Christmas Tree

And one they called Celation.

Plus Malpha, Beaus, Warrien

And Sentreal, then Mavic Chen,

With Trantis, oh and Gearon,

Plus the Fifth Galaxy’s Zephon,

And never ever forget that full emm of Taranium.

This lot went to mow down all creation.

They were good to go,

That lethal delegation

But when they went to mow,

Went to mow down all creation

The Daleks they didn’t know

And met total Extermination!

JOSEPHINE GRANT

(after ‘Jonathan Jo’)

Jo Jo Grant

Had a mouth like an “oh!”

And a life full of surprises.

Although she joined UNIT quite inchoate

She soon sailed on seas of giant maggots

She met ever so many savages,

Turned down simply heaps of marriages,

While stopping muddy worlds being colonised

She was very frequently hypnotised.

She was sacrificed at a syzygy,

Passed screaming through a singularity,

She didn’t once, despite the Doctor’s ego,

Reverse polarity of neutron flow.

She did enjoy Captain Yates’ romancing

Till he sadly took her Morris dancing.

She so adored the Brigadier’s moustache

Even when he talked such balderdash.

She stole the heart of a Draconian

And honeymooned upon the Amazon.

She parachuted from an icecano

And called her grandson Santiago.

For vile villains she never gave two figs

And laughed at those silly gnashing Drashigs.

At those weird fiendish experimenters

She just smiled on her many adventures.

(Though she never met a pterodactyl

To say other would be counterfactual)

A scream with laughs she’d sometimes intersperse

Because Jo Grant saw the whole universe.

Miss Jo Grant

Never said “shan’t”

That’s why she won all life’s prizes.

A GOOD MAN

Good men take the long way round,

It goes with the higher ground,

Keeping sacred noble vows,

And really searing eyebrows.

Good men should sound quite Scottish

Helps with being stand-offish

Suggests you’ll win any fight

Just by being profoundly right.

Good men should have a careful plan

Which they’ll (like this rhyme) ignore

They’re always ten moves ahead

Their feet most firmly planted.

Good men don’t plan their breakfast

In eggs and jam they’re reckless

But long ago they had a hunch

There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

Good men choose with whom to trifle

(No chance if you own that rifle)

They work hard, they don’t forget

And they don’t lose – well, not yet.

Good men never toss a pawn

They’d rather eat a Janis Thorn

What good’s that one true friend

If they’re not with you at the end?

Good men they don’t surrender

Even if the bill’s a spender.

Losing’s not a cost to swallow

They’ll be back tomorrow.

And tomorrow, tomorrow

And all the days that follow.

They’ll get you back, no mind the cost

Because to them a friend’s not lost.

Good men they take the long way round

It goes with all that higher ground.

THE GUIDE DOG

I like to let him cheat at chess

I love to answer No with Yes

My rules are simple and also true

Without doubt they’d apply to you.

I always answer Negative

Or perhaps Affirmative.

Why answer in one syllable?

Brevity is just risible.

Be governed by always being right

It affords your listeners quiet delight

If not, answer Negative

Or just perhaps Affirmative.

I will admit I’m no good at slopes

Sand, stairs and mud are just nopes.

I regret my lack of battery power

But a lot can be done in an hour.

It’s why I prefer Affirmative

To a bold cold solid Negative.

He forgives my failings with puddles

Because I sort out his frightful muddles

As our little song draws to an end

A robot dog’s always your best friend.

And that’s never Negative

It’s definitely Affirmative.

RASSILON WHY?

(after ‘Cottleston Pie’)

Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?

A man should die, but this man shan’t die

Ask me a riddle and I’ll reply

Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?

Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?

Gallifrey rises and so do I

Ask me a riddle and I’ll reply

Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?

Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?

Immortality’s a curse, I don’t know why

Ask me a riddle and I’ll reply

Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?

Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?

There’s one rule for you, and one for me

I wouldn’t want us to disagree

Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?

YETI SONG

Sing Ho! For the life of a Yeti!

Sing Ho! You’re jealous I bet-ty!

I don’t much mind if the world disappears

Cos my furry belly is full of spheres

Telling me to obey, obey, obey

I don’t much care if it snows or thaws

Cos I’ve such a lot of blood on my lovely paws!

Slashing and maiming, slaughtering my way.

Sing Ho! For the life of a Yeti!

Sing Ho! You’re jealous I bet-ty!

Now everyone’s dead I’m coming for you!

COOL THING

I do so like my lovely tie,

You’re jealous. Ask me why?

It’s a bow bow tie

That’s just why

A red bow tie.

It has a shape

That is clever

It folds in

On itself

& Out forever

A Möbius loop

For a nincompoop

I’ll confess to be sly

Bows are tricky to tie.

The start and ending are nigh

I do so like my lovely tie.

GAMES

I am so very terribly good at games

It doesn’t help that I’m bad at names

But sit down stranger, let’s draw out the board

And see our eternal chess game scored.

Where were we? You pick’d black and I took white

And settled in for an age-old fight

We battled from Silk Road to Araby

And, dear sir, you always return to me.

Sometimes I take your pieces, you take mine

It’s no hardship, the game is fine.

As the ages fall, our contest continual

Glaciers creep and mountains fall.

There’s no ending but mine, Time Lord

You say you’re thinking, I say you’re bored.

One day I’ll win, and then you’ll see –

What playing a friend means to me.

Your move, dear sir, your move.

ABSENCES

(after ‘Before Tea’)

Miss Clara

Has not been seen

For more than a week. She slipped inside

The stationery cupboard. Surely not to hide?

We all went looking for her. Miss Clara?

Where are yer?

Miss? Miss?

What is this?

We’ve got big exams at the end of term

If you go missing then how can we learn?

Also, the Head’s cross. You’ve gone too far, Miss.

Miss Clara

Slipped back in the

Middle of a lesson. “Now, where were we?”

“Where were you?!?” “What’s the hurry?

I’ve been in space, met Ghandi for curry,

Saved the human race, s’okay don’t worry

And no, don’t thank me.”

Oh Miss Clara

Miss, this time

You’ve gone too far-er.

POSSIBILIES

(after ‘Cherry Stones’)

Tinker, Tailor

Soldier, Sailor

Rich Man, Poor Man

Beggarman, Thief

These are the many lives to see

In the stones of my sweet cherry tree.

But what about a Physicist,

Thinker, Slayer

Eternal Sailor

Gell Guard,

Or Nano Biologist?

What about the Vanir or a Tharil at the Gate?

What about a Malin or Giant Spider’s Mate?

What about a Policeman looking in the junkyard?

Or the circumlocuting, prosecuting Valeyard?

What about a Vervoid voiding Thrematologist?

Or an ever over-eager radiation physicist?

What about a blood-thirsty Lord High Priestess

Or a pluckily unlucky air hostess?

Don’t forget a fiddler with rat genetics

Or an emotionless abuser of cybernetics

There are more lives to see

Than there are stones on Metebelis Three

RICE PUDDING

Unlimited rice pudding, temporal ghosts

Bus stations, cruelty and burnt toast

These are the things I don’t like the most.

Fascism, idiocy, a waffling bore

Old gods, sideways villains, the Earth’s core

These are things I find terrible chores.

Recursive occlusions, rips in Time’s skin,

Lost luggage, cold porridge, worlds wearing thin

These are all the things I declare grim.

Liquorice, apricots, opening night,

Sudden triumph, old friends, a fair fight

These are things in which I take delight.

HAVE YOU SEEN . . . . ?

Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?

She’s let her whole family down

She said she was off backpacking

Seems she was a victim of bizarre kidnapping.

Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?

Her mother (it’s said) has begun to frown

(Quite ruining her surgeon’s reknown).

She’d a university place

Instead she’s larking off in space!

Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?

You know I’ve heard she’s run off with a

clown

Who calls himself by a proper noun!

Her step-dad he is so distraught

He’s searching the docks till she’s caught.

Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?

She nearly died stopping a mutant drown,

I know, poor girl, such a letdown!

But she’d planned for a botanist

Not a career, yet she would insist.

Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?

By now she should be living downtown

Not stopping nuclear meltdown

Or saving us from a fireball

Noble I know, but is that all?

Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?

Not to gossip, but it’s all over town

She’s set her cap at a man with a crown!

What was wrong with an accountant?

Not some alien militant!

Breeding will out, it’s always shown.

Well, look what became of Perpugilliam Brown!

NEXT EPISODE

“Kill them! Kill them now!”

Well yes, but how?

Is it with a gun?

(There’s always one!)

What about a flute?

(That would be a hoot)

Push me in a pit!

(Are you sure I’ll fit?)

Here’s my robot twin!

(Where shall I begin?)

Offer me to god?

(That’s a little odd)

Throw me into space?

(I’ll keep a straight face)

Turn me into stone?

(That one’s not unknown)

Restart the big bang?

(Ooh, that’s quite the thang)

Shrink me into dust?

(Well now, if you must)

Call for the Daleks?

(Won’t see me for parsecs)

Turn me to compost?

(Well now, I’m engrossed)

Tell them my real name?

(The internet’s aflame)

Ah, a fit of pique?

(I’ll be back next week)

See, no matter how

You say “Kill them now!”

I assure you, friend

It won’t be MY end.

HARRIET JONES, PM

(after ‘Journey’s End’)

“Don’t you think she looks tired?”

Do forgive me, I’m rather wired!

Earth’s in danger, then? Again?

Send for Harriet Jones, PM!

This world we shall defend

My poor alien friends.

Fear my network subwave

Earth from you I’ll save!

From cottage hospitals,

And nasty windbag fools,

Even alien blackmail.

I’ve saved us without fail.

Daleks, please have no doubt

I’ll gladly sort you out.

Now, before it all turns sour

This’ll be my finest hour.

Harriet Jones, PM out.

FRIEND SHIP

Susan, Barbara and Ian

Vicki, Dodo and Steven.

Ben, Polly, Jamie

Victoria and Zoe.

Liz, Jo and Sarah

Harry, Brig and Leela.

Romanadvoratrelundar

And K-9 (the dog wonder).

Adric, Nyssa, Tegan

Turlough and Kamelion.

Peri and Melanie

Ace (aka Dorothy).

Rose, Jack and Jackie

Martha, (horse) and Mickey.

Donna, Donna, Donnaaaa!

(Never forgetting her)

Amy, Winston, Rory

River (that’s another story).

Clara, Oswin, Clara

Oswald, Osgoods, Clara.

(Also, Clara, Clara, and more Clara

Never got the end of that palaver)

Then Nardole, Bill and River too

And,

MOST IMPORTANTLY

There’s

     YOU.

AFTERWORDS

Sunset came to the Thousand Year Wood. It had been
a lovely long day, and, although Figment hadn’t yet met
the mysterious Officer Sandcars, he’d had such a lot of
interesting adventures along the way.

“Maybe my call was just not urgent,” he thought
philosophically to himself. “Exciting as new friends no
doubt are,” said Figment, “there’s something even better
about spending time with old ones.”

He waved goodbye to his friends Whoot and Bigger,
marvelling that they had, after all, caught a Gallifrump.
He wondered if it would still be there tomorrow. Perhaps
not. Ah well. Never mind. They could always catch it again.

His footsteps took him back in the direction of the strange
blue tree. Only it wasn’t where he had left it. Things never
were, not in Figment’s life. Why, often he had trouble
finding his house. But he carried on, not worried by the
darkening sky, or the gathering cold, just looking and
looking for the square blue tree and humming the little
hum that the tree had taught him.

Truth to tell, he spent a little bit longer looking for it than
he should have. Figment suddenly realised that it was
quite dark and, as he’d given the Gallifrump his mittens,
his fingers were very cold. In the distance the NightWolves
were starting to call to each other, singing their song about
how much they liked eating Figments.

“Oh dear,” said Figment, feeling very worried.

He ran on, hoping that his footsteps were taking him home.

But they were not. He was in a darkly dark bit of
the Thousand Year Wood. And he could tell that the
NightWolves were ever so close now.

“I am a very silly Figment,” said Figment crossly to himself.

Which was when he turned a corner.

Now, he should have realised that something was Up, as,
strictly speaking, forests do not have corners. But turn a
corner he did, and then he realised that all was well.

For standing right there was the strange blue tree, looking
all new and bright.

Better still, there was snow in the night sky.

Leaning against the blue tree was that best thing of all, the
oldest of old friends.

“Jonathan Smith, you’ve come back to the Thousand Year
Wood!” Figment cried. As he said the words, he felt a little
shiver inside. He was so pleased to see his friend, but also
worried – because sometimes the arrival of Jonathan Smith
meant an end, not a beginning.

Figment looked fearfully up at Jonathan Smith.

And Jonathan Smith smiled and Figment knew that it was
all going to be much more than all right.

“You called?” said Jonathan Smith with a smile as warm as
a Christmas fireplace. “Shall we go?”

“But where?” said Figment, his little hearts giddy.

“Oh, somewhere,” said Jonathan Smith. “Eventually.”

*

So away they went somewhere – but whenever they go and
whatever happens to them along the way, that was only
their beginning.

In the magical heart of the Thousand Year Wood, upon the
footsteps of Figment and his oldest friend, it will always,
always be snowing.

A Post-Script

VERITY

Young Verity went to the BBC

It was full of Men Who Knew What To Do

“Young girl, have you come to make us all tea?”

“No, I’m the Producer of Doctor Who.”

“What’s this?” laughed the Men. “What can you know?

“Don’t worry your head with old Doctor Who.

Why’s a sweet girl going near a sci-fi show?

It’s grown-up stuff. There’s nice typing to do.”

Young Verity smiled and she stood her ground.

“I know what I’m doing, thank you so much,

Leave it with me and I’ll bring you all round.

I’ll think you’ll find I’ve got the common touch.”

Verity got her way (she always did),

Cavemen, Daleks, Aztecs, Marco Polo

The kids loved it andthe Men felt stupid

“That girlie’s just lucky – she doesn’t know!”

She faced each day’s battles with a brand new hat

As she sailed past those boys’ giggling glares

“I just tell myself they’re looking at that!”

And she trotted right through them up the stairs

Said the Men: “Verity, luv, you’ve had a blast.”

(Cos the TARDIS went on, and on she flew)

“But this kiddie show, how long can it last?”

And Verity winked. Because, well, she knew.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

JAMES GOSS has adapted three Doctor Who stories by Douglas Adams for BBC Books (City of Death, The Pirate Planet, and The Krikkitmen). He’s also written several original Doctor Who and Torchwood books. His novel #Haterz is in development as a motion picture. He’s also written for the stage and radio. This is his first (and probably only) volume of poetry.

RUSSELL T DAVIES is a television writer, the creator of groundbreaking shows such as Queer As Folk, Bob & Rose, Casanova, Cucumber, and in 2018 A Very English Scandal for BBC One. He brought Doctor Who back to our screens in 2005, as well as creating the spinoffs Torchwood and The Sarah Jane Adventures.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

CREDITS

Illustrations by Russell T Davies

Cover design by Two Associates Ltd.

COPYRIGHT

DOCTOR WHO: NOW WE ARE SIX HUNDRED. Text © copyright 2017 by James Goss. Illustrations © copyright 2017 by Russell T Davies. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Published in 2017 by

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Doctor Who is a BBC Wales production for BBC One.

Executive producers: Steven Moffat and Brian Minchin

BBC, DOCTOR WHO (word marks, logos and devices), TARDIS, DALEKS, CYBERMAN and K-9 (word marks and devices) are trademarks of the British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence.

Editorial Director: Albert DePetrillo

Editor: Charlotte Macdonald

Copyeditor: Steve Tribe

Production: Alex Merrett

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017932198

ISBN 978-0-06-268539-1

EPub Edition September 2017 ISBN 978-0-06-268540-7

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