I do apologise about this. This was meant to be something completely
different - something to do with regenerations or some such. And it
definitely was not meant to involve 'ess eeee exxxx' at all.
Not at all.
But maybe some crept in.
I am sure random physics took over, followed by a whole bunch of random
physicists. That rotten Stephen Hawking drank all the beer, taped a sink
plunger to his head and wheeled around yelling 'exterminate'. Then the
twinkie ate all the popcorn. Einstein and I got our own back though by
going upstairs. Well after that things truly took a turn for the ludicrous
and the words starting joining themselves in a truly peculiar fashion to
the extent that even I started getting concerned. At that point it was just
all getting a bit too odd so, as any coward would do, I just sat back and
watched as the dots joined themselves.
So this is a story that was not intended to have anything to do with sex -
at all, but somehow got a bit off track - and there could be some sex
references involved, but not much, or perhaps a lot. OK, perhaps it's all
about sex. But then again sex is pat of nature and a wonderful thing. So
perhaps this story is all about sex, but there isn't any actual sex in it
so its OK for the littlies... Please also take it with a grain of salt -
humour makes the world go round.
No Sex Please, We're Time's Champion
The soundtrack of The Matrix (Revolutions) was playing on the TARDIS sound
system and it made him feel all sort of grand and worthy of all the
universe saving acclaim he had been receiving lately. For some strange
reasons he felt as if he should be standing on the prow of a doomed ship
yelling 'I am the champion of time' very loudly to the waves.
He was also pissed as a newt and that was also probably contributing to his
Boris Yeltsin Vodka. Brilliant marketing - and made in the lovely district
of Chernobal in Russia. He didn't know what it was, but it had a special
something. It was good vodka. After the second bottle it was really good
vodka. After the third bottle it was the best bloody vodka in all the known
universes (and probably a few unknown ones as well).
He had decided that perhaps he was 'the one' - or perhaps he was only one
of the twelve? It was very difficult to tell nowadays, what with all the
changes in concepts floating about. It had even been suggested that next
time he would be a girl. Well it would make change from being short, weird
looking and, for some unknown reason, Scottish.
'I mean' he wondered, 'who ever heard of a Scottish Time Lord?'
'Oh, who am I kidding' he thought glumly. I know the future and its
Sherlock Holmes in space. Well at least we can chalk one up for the 'little
one' during this incarnation.'
He sighed. It was tough being Obi Wan Kenobi like. Having to gurgle on
about burning skies, napping rivers and saving people from turning to the
Dark Side all the time.
'Dark Side? That doesn't sound right?' he thought as he took another drink.
It was all very well, but it was trying at times - especially Leela. She
was 'totilicious'. No matter what the planet or the weather she felt all
she needed to combat monsters and weirdo aliens consisting of green slime
was a bikini and a large knife. Where had he picked her up again? He made a
mental note to go back there.
He fingered imaginary breasts in time with the music and consoled himself
with the fact that it might have been worse: He could have been Welsh.
Perhaps, if he was a girl he could finally get some action instead of
poncing around in cricket gear or pretending to like juggling.
He fished out some Jackie O style sunglasses that Jackie had kindly given
him and popped them on:
'I AM Keanu' he muttered to himself as he performed bad kung fu moves
around the room in slow motion.
I mean how thick were they? No one, not even a Time Lord likes cricket that
much. Yes it is fun if you are an extra from Brideshead Revisited, but who
wants to go around all the bleedin time in red stripey trousers and
eighties 'running boots'?.
And how come no one had ever told him he was colour blind in the Sixth? No
wonder he had never got any. Who would go out with someone dressed as a
But he just couldn't remember why he had spent all that time trying to kill
Peri. A beautiful girl with a penchant for wearing not much and all he had
wanted to do was strangle her: Bastards. Just cos they were all BBC
pooftahs didn't mean he had to suffer?
What a bloke really needs every now and then is some sex.
And as to the juggling he thought: Balls! Being able to play the spoons was
not something to impress the girls, and being able to pull a coin from
behind someone's ear might stop the Gods of Ragnarok, but it wasn't going
to save the city of Zion was it now! No that took a long black slinky coat
and several million dollars worth of special effects. Not too likely on the
'There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, the seas asleep and
the rivers dream, but owing to BBC budget constraints all your going to see
is a bloke in a rubber suit chasing me - very slowly - down a corridor.' he
thought to himself and fell about laughing.
'Some sex?' he thought to himself as he took another swig from the vodka
bottle. 'I need lots of bloody sex if you ask me'.
'I am a red blooded heterosexual Time Lord' he thought, but it had been so
long that lately even Tannis had begun to look tempting, and he had the
worst haircut he had ever seen on a sentient being (apart from Tegan).
Everyone else who regularly saves the universe gets to get the girl, oh
yeah - but not me. I just get to keep wandering around in a phone booth.
And you try explaining the concept of a police box to someone from the
mobile phone generation? And just what was a pollyphonic ring tone anyway?
'Oh Rassilon' he shouted very loudly to the underside of the console (by
this point he was lying underneath the console. You can probably work out
what is going on here. If you can't go buy yourself a few bottles of vodka
- drink them really quick and you too will understand).
'Where does my future lie... and can I please turn into Hugh Grant and
finally get some?'