The Man from the Ministry
by Mark Phippen
'You, sir, are a nincompoop!"
If the Minister was offended by the Doctor's words, he didn't show it. If truth be told, he had grown accustomed to the man's outbursts over the last few months, as well as his obsession with that blasted blue box of his. Which, as it happened, was the cause of today's little altercation.
The Doctor had burst into the Minister's office just a few moments ago, a blur of green velvet and frills, and demanded to know why his funding had been cut. The Minister had calmly explained that, to his knowledge, most of the money allocated to research at UNIT was being channelled into the Doctor's tinkering with his TARDIS, which, the Minister pointed out, was not what the Doctor was here to do. Could he not concentrate on the matters at hand, and leave his hobby for his spare time?
'My good man,' the Doctor had said, 'as far as I'm concerned, my work for UNIT is what I do in my spare time.'
'In that case,' replied the Minister, 'you won't mind me cutting the budget, will you?'
The Doctor slammed his fist on the Minister's mahogany desk, making the pens in the little plastic desk tidy rattle. It was then he had called him a nincompoop.
'Don't you see how important my work is? Without the TARDIS I'm stranded here in one time zone, on one planet, week after week. There's so much more out there, so many other people I could be helping.'
'And what good would that do us, Doctor?'
The Doctor looked shocked at that, and the Minister smiled at the response.
'So that's it, is it? You're no better than the Time Lords! You just want me to do your dirty work for you. Well I won't have it, you hear? Go ahead, cut my funding,' he pointed to his head, 'the answer is in here, anyway.'
And with that he stormed out,
slamming the door of the office, and knocking a
picture from the wall.
The Minister stood up and sighed.
'Did you get that?' He enquired, to no one in particular.
'We heard,' replied a voice.
'He's becoming more agitated. Perhaps we should cut funding all together.'
'No. If we did that, he would leave UNIT. He might go anywhere. It would be harder to keep an eye on him. He is still useful to us.'
'Yes, of course. I'll continue to
monitor him. It might be best to give him a
reason to stay, something to keep him occupied. He needs a foe, an adversary, someone to hate. Someone to keep him focused '
The disembodied voice chuckled. 'We know the very man for the job…'
© 2000 Mark Phippen