All I can say is wicked, but funny… well that was the idea – whether it worked is another matter.

This started life as The Wicked, but Funny Round Robin. If you want to read the whole story go check it out at the Outpost Gallifrey myth makers forum (but be warned it gets a little 'depraved' at some points – I mean Tegan turns into a evil megalomanic arms dealing dominatrix… go figure). Many thanks to my co conspirators.

If you don't like reading, well you probably wouldn't be here would you – but anyway go check out the Boozy and Slightly Ad Hoc Round Robin Comic. And if you really like Doctor Who silliness go check out Charles Daniels alternative story guide.

But anyway – that's enough plugs for one author's note:

In a part of the universe far far away....

'I'll just reconfigure the connector matrix, inverse the sectron inhibitor, poke this bit with my screw driver, cross my fingers and hope something happens,' said the Doctor with his tongue hanging out as he poked around with the console innards.

Charley looked up from her book.

'Doctor - stop trying to impress me with your mumbo jumbo. I am a bimbo chick from the nineteen twenties. I don't have the faintest clue what you are talking about. In my day we hadn't even invented the digital watch, let alone delved into quantum time mechanics. Personally I think you sound you are doing something rarrther kinky, what with your screw driver poking and all.'

The Doctor looked up from his work and sighed.

'Charley, CharleyCharley. Charley Charley? Charley Charley, Charley, CharleyCharley. Charley Charley? Charley Charley, Charley… Charley! Charley? Cha… Cha….. Charley, Charley Charley Charley. Charley Charley… Charley! Charley? Cha… Charley, Charley Charley Charley. Charley Charley,' he admonished. 'This is impoooortant. This is exciiiiting. This is the beginning of a whole new universe of adventures for you and me.'

'Yes Doctor it was jolly lucky that we managed to find Rassilon, transfer the Zagreus virus from him to you, rediscover the TARDIS, discover the secret of those zone thingies, fix all his emotional problems and then set Cr'izz up as the new ruler of his people and find a way back to our own universe. Oops. I think I have just given away the entire next McGann season of Big Finish?' she said as she popped a hand over her mouth.

The Doctor bounced like an excitable toddler. 'Oh don't worry about that Charley. No one listens to that dribble anyway. The exciting bit is where we are going now - 34 Barks Head Road, Basingstoke - mmm – mm - mm?'

But Charley was not taken in by his 'would you like a jelly baby' routine and only looked disdainfully at him. 'And just why would I want to go to a lower class area of London?'

The Doc looked crestfallen. He sadly twiddled his knob - the one on the console. 'Weeeeell, a friend of mine lives there.'

Charley hit him with a look. 'Not an ex....'? she asked.

He fiddled with his knob a bit more before finally nodding.

She sighed. 'All right. If you want to go visit your ex for a bit of 'whatever it is you do' with them we will go. But I am going to find the nearest pub and get plastered. Sometimes Doctor - you really get up my jacksie.'

He smiled one of his big winning; lets jump on him and drag him into the bushes smiles. 'Thanks Charley'.

This time she hit him with her book.


Barkers Road, Basingstoke

The Eighth Doc poked his nose out of the TARDIS and began to bounce up and down like Barney the dinosaur on speed: 'Ohh goodie,' he cried happily. We made it, we made it, we made it.'

Charley followed him out. 'Great Doctor. Now where is the pub?' She stopped suddenly. 'Er Doctor. What are all these dead bodies doing here' she asked pointing to the two dead bodies behind the Doctor.

The Doctor turned. 'Oh dear – dead bodies. Now if I remember my Doctor Who Scriptwriter's Handbook: One Hundred and One Things to do in a Gravel Pit, correctly that means that within the next sixty seconds lots of armed men will arrive, arrest us and we will be accused of their murder'.

'Bloody terrific.' Sighed Charley. 'So we have about thirty seconds before we all get carted off to be horribly tortured and shot?'

'Er yes'

'Bugger that for a game of monkeys. I am off to the pub,' she stated as she turned and left.

The Doctor started to follow her, but found himself stopped by a very large unpleasant man with an equally large and unpleasant gun. The gun was pointing at a point somewhere between his eyes.

The Doctor smiled. 'You're fifteen seconds early,' he said as he slowly put up his hands.

The man did not seem all that impressed with his humour (not having read the Doctor Who Scriptwriter's Handbook: When in Doubt Bring Back the Daleks, and all). He simply cocked the gun and said 'And you have fifteen seconds to lie face down on the ground or I blow your head off.'

Then for emphasis he struck the Doctor on the side of his head with his gun, knocking him down.

'Oh great,' thought the Doctor as he lay on the road, water seeping into his clothes. 'This is going to be a Kate Orman sort of story. And bloody Charley is down at the pub. Fat lot of good she will do me. Trust me to pick an inexperienced flapper when what I really need is homicidal killing machine: Where's Ace when you need her?'

Meanwhile Charley was having a great time down at the Spotted Dick. She had met this nice bloke with enormous ears called Chris and a fascinating character called Withnail…


Hello luvvie!

As the Doctor lay on the footpath staring intently at the gravel, his captor called over his shoulder. 'Oi boss. I got him.'

A painfully thin anemic looking man came from the shadows. The Doctor looked up. It was Richard E Grant.

'Oh you bastard,' cried the Eighth Doctor. 'You have never forgiven me for acting your trousers off in Withnail have you.'

Richard E sneered. 'Listen you one shot wonder with the well fitting shoes - I was Doctor Who and I didn't even have to pretend to act the script was so bad. And I have worked with Steve Martin. 'If' you had taken the time to read my film diaries you would know that. But then again I suppose you don't get many books in Bristol, eh laddie?'

The Eighth Doc stood up and took a deep breath. 'Right: that does it. I was always better than you in Withnail.'


'You just overacted. Any fool can do that. I was the one who was nearly rogered over the kitchen table. And I looked very sexy in that red sweater. Uncle Monty didn't want you now did he? '

Richard E grimaced. 'You take that back.'

The eighth Doc smiled evilly. 'And what about Hudson fricken Hawk luvvie? What was that meant to be?'

'No', cried Richard E as he cradled his head in his hands.

'Hudson Hawk, Hudson Hawk, Hudson Hawk.'

Richard E began to cry. 'I'll get you - you Scousy bastard,' he said as he ran off.

The Eighth Doc slapped his hands together. 'Not bad at all for a long haired ponce,' he said to himself and toddled off to join Charley in the bar.


Down t'pub

Fitz swore loudly. Damn that Compassion. He had not wanted to do this, but she had insisted it was for the best. Why had she made him do it?

It had sounded all reasonable at the time. The Doctor must be hit on the head with a frying pan to induce amnesia so there was no way he could ever remember that he had destroyed Gallifrey, have a mental breakdown and turn into a total loony. Justin had also told him that it would also help keep the book range fresh and new.

But now, standing here, clutching the frying pan in his sweaty hands, it was so angsty it was bad fan fiction. Fitz lit another cigarette and watched the Doc as he battled Withnail in a sculling contest. At least he had tracked the Doc down in a pub. That was something - he could have a few pints afterwards.

Finally he worked up the courage to approach the Doctor's table.

The Eighth Doc was in the middle of telling an amusing story about how he had pretended to be a presenter from 'Intergalactic Changing Rooms' and had managed to do over most of Darth Vader's Death Star in pastels before the bloke had come home early from his weekend away.

'Oh man it was funny,' he said. 'You should have seen the look on his face... Doctor, he said to me - I am going to rip your arms out by their sockets and shove them up your....' He looked up.

'Hello Fitz. What are you doing here?' he asked.

'I'm only doing this because I love you Doc.'

'Hey,' interrupted Charley. 'That's my line.'

The Doctor looked embarrassed. 'Now now Fitz. You know there is no homoerotic subtext in Doctor Who… and that thing in The Blue Angel was just a one off… you know how Paul gets.'

Fitz looked sadly at the Doctor. 'I am sorry Doc, but I know how much you are suffering'.

'Suffering? Well I will be in the morning, but I am having a great time at the moment with my friends. This is Charley and Chris and the bloke being unwell on your shoes is Withnail - he's an actor so he says.'

Fitz regarded the Doc with sadness. The poor bloke had already gone mad. This was going to be an act of kindness.

Then the Doctor noticed the frying pan and understanding dawned. 'No Fitz, you don't understand. I am the Big Finish Eighth Doctor, not the book one. You don't have to....'

But he was to late. Fitz knocked him cold with the fry pan and he slumped over the table.

Withnail got up and looked blearily at the prone body of the Doctor and Fitz standing there holding the fry pan in his now quivering hands.

'I say,' said Withnail. 'Is that non stick?' Then he burst out laughing and fell over again.

Charley looked at the Doctor's body. 'Oh really Doctor. Did you often used to hang around with scruffy looking men who bash you on the head with fry pans?' she asked as she threw some cold water on him.

'Ugg' said the Doctor as he woke up.

'Twat' replied Charley.


Meanwhile - while all that stuff was going on 'down t pub', this was happening


How many times have I told you not to tie me up when I am asleep and stick a lit piece of dynamite between my teeth?'

Ace pouted. 'Oh come on Professor. It is only fun and games?'

'Pouwt it owt' he admonished from between his clenched teeth as the wick burned down.

Ace pouted again. 'Oh all right,' she said as she extinguished the fuse. 'Sometimes you are such a killjoy Professor.'

'No,' he said slowly - very aware of the large sub machine gun she was polishing and reminding himself to talk to her about leaving ground to air missiles around the console room, but perhaps at a time when she was less heavily armed. 'I am just someone who doesn't want his dental work taken care of in one short blast, so to say.'

'So Professor, what are we going to do today?' she asked.

The Doctor looked a little ashamed. 'Actually we have to return something I sort of borrowed. I had forgotten I had borrowed it, but I just found it again and I admit that I feel a little guilty about taking it'.

'What did you take Professor?' admonished Ace.

'Nyssa's brain,' he admitted sheepishly. 'It was when I first met her. I was in my Fifth body and I needed some inert matter, so I just popped in one night, extracted her brain and replaced it with the innards from my gameboy. Then I forgot all about it.'

'And no one noticed - not even Nyssa?'

'Well apart from a sudden urge to play Donkey Kong every now and then, and that crush on one of the Super Mario Brothers she was pretty much the same. So I forgot about it, until yesterday when I came across this jar...'

'Well that would explain her acting,' said Ace thoughtfully.


What a piece of work is man

The Eighth Doctor was in terrible pain. 'Come on,' said Charley to Chris and Withnail. 'Let's take him for a walk in the park.'

Together they dragged/lugged the semi conscious Doctor between them and dumped him on a park bench.

But once they got to the park Withnail burst into tears. Charley and Chris looked at each other in alarm.

'This was it. This was the one.' wailed Withnail. 'This was the park where he left me to soliloquize to some bloody wolves.'

'Er luv,' said Chris. 'Do you have any idea what e's talkin about?'

'Not a clue,' said Charley. 'But he doesn't half overact does he?'

While Charley and Chris gaped at Withnail's bad Hamlet impersonation the Eighth Doctor slowly got up from where he had been unceremoniously dumped over a bench.

'Hello,' he said to a wolf. 'Where am I? Who am I, who are you… and why am I quoting from Time and the Rani?'

'Oh Doctor, I am sorry,' said a voice behind him.

The Doctor turned. There was a young woman standing there holding a frying pan. 'Hello,' said the Doctor. 'Do I know you and why are you brandishing that frying pan?'

'I am Compassion,' she said as she raised the pan.

'Er, it doesn't seem very compassionate to hit me with frying pan now does it?' he said as he backed away.

'I never should have tried to make Fitz do it, but it is for your own good.'

'Look I am sure there has been some mistake young lady.....' but it was too late. Compassion had knocked him out cold with the frying pan.

So then Chris and Charley decided to use the Doc for a footrest.



'And then I got the two of them to carry me around in a box for a whole show. They thought I was in the box, but they I was actually down at the pub… I had tried to kill him off several times before Earthshock, but the little bugger always kept coming back.… Sonic 'boom boom' Nyssa as we used to call her – she used to disappear for days on end with that vibrating device… but I got to keep the jewel encrusted cricket gloves…'

'Professor. You are not going to bitch about me one day are you – just cause I went all blubbery over that baby in the Curse of Fenric?'

The Doctor smiled and crossed his fingers behind his back. 'No of course not Ace.'

While the Seventh Doctor was telling Ace just exactly how awful his fifth incarnation's companions had been…. This was happening:

Down at the park Withnail was still slumped on the grass in a dirty heap bawling his eyes out and occasionally muttering something about carrots in Camberwell. Chris and Charley were still using the Doc as a footrest when a whole bunch of heavily armed men appeared.

The lead one was waving a book around excitedly. 'We found him lads. Grab him.'

'Ere,' interrupted Chris. ' We were using him as a footrest.'

'Yes,' added Charley. 'Why are you taking my footrest, er friend away?'

The man waggled his book under Charley's nose. 'It says here in the BBC Scriptwriters/Novelists' Guide to Dr Who: Writing with Crayon Can be Fun and Profitable – the Updated Version, that in any story, featuring the long haired ponce, ie him, he must suffer some form of emotional or physical angst - so we are going to rough him up a bit.'

'But that's monstrous,' cried Charley.

'Well, we can kill off his companion so he suffers a major guilt trip instead?'

'Ahh, no,' replied Charley slowly. 'No, you carry on with your duty.'

Chris and Charley lifted their feet to allow the men to take him away.


Nick Briggs meet Nick Briggs

The Doctor woke up and immediately wished he hadn't. He found himself sitting in an interview room filled with large and angry looking armed men. His head was killing him, but he found he couldn't rub it because his hands were cuffed behind his back.

'Right Sunshine,' said a voice. 'Let's start with the basics. 'Who are you?'

'Oh, I know that one. I am Nick Briggs.'

However this was not the right answer and only earned him a slap. 'Don't play the fool with me Buttercup. I have seen a picture of Briggs and he does not have that much hair.'

'It could be a wig?'

'Wot. Luscious brown curls like yours. No chance Petal.'

'Oh Christ,' thought the Doctor. 'I feel like I am being interrogated by Peter Moffatt.


Some time later…

'Look…. Ow, could…ow, you…oh dear, please… ow, stop… no, hitting… ahh, me.

Bruised and battered the Doctor looked up at his tormentors. 'I mean, what's the point? You haven't even asked me any questions. Shouldn't you suspect me of killing someone, being a spy or something?'

'Nah,' said the guard. 'It says right here on page 123 of the Doctor Who Scriptwriter's Handbook: Talent Who Needs It, that I can just beat you up to fill in time… and cos you're a ponce. Also it apparently just gives a lot of people a lot of satisfaction – and sweat pea the whole point of this story is to take the mickey out of Doctor Who – and if we have to beat you up in the process so be it.' He pulled back a fist…

'Hang on,' said the Doc. 'What about page 176, where it states that after beating the Doctor senseless you must lock him up in a poorly guarded cell, make absolutely no attempt to search his pockets and then all bugger off for a long boozy lunch?'

The guard looked interested. 'Really? A long boozy lunch?'

'Er yes. Down at that rather nice Italian on the corner I believe. With a couple of really nice reds followed by some cheap, but overpriced brandy.'

The guards looked at each other. 'Righto lads. Page 176 it is. Bung him in a poorly guarded call and let's leg it.'


Back down t'pub

'I need a drink,' growled the Seventh Doc. 'Come on Ace – to the pub.'

When they were seated Ace began her usual irritating spiel. 'So what's the score then Professor,' asked Ace. 'It's all getting right wicked it is.'

The Doctor looked pensive. 'I don't know Ace.'

'Gordon Bennett. You don't know. Aren't you meant to be the darker and more manipulative Doctor?'

The Seventh Doc angrily took another swig of tequila. 'Listen. Dark and manipulative I may be, but even I can't play as many games as this at once. Oh look at me, I am so wound up I am quoting Ghost Light. And will you please stop talking in that ridiculous manner. Just say FK like any other teenager.'

'Hey listen shorty. I'm 26. How do I know what the kids are saying? After work I relax down the wine bar with a nice chardonnay.'

'Oh all right Ace, but at least try to act.'

'Oh you don't know when you got it good,' mumbled the Fifth Doctor from the next table where he and Tegan had been engaged in a drinking competition.

'But to be fair to the EDA book editor,' mused the Fifth Doctor. 'I think this story shows exactly why the EDAs ended up in such a muddle. Eventually you get so tied up that you don't know where to go.'

'Yeah,' interjected a drunken Fitz from the next table. 'Then you end up blowing up Gallifrey.'

Both Doctors turned in unison: 'What?'

Fitz realised what he had said... 'Ahh, nothing - nothing at all. Please forget I said that or I am going to have to hit you all on the head with a frying pan,' he said as he turned back to his companion - a strange pale young woman.

The woman looked at the Doctors. 'At least ours was hot. I am so glad I never had to have the fat one with the stupid coat inside me,' she mused.... 'He never would have fitted anyway.'

'So what happens now?' asked Ace.

The Doctor sighed. 'Well, quite frankly – I don't think this story actually has a plot. So I supposed we just get as drunk as possible and wait for some terrible calamity to befall us. I mean – that's what usually happens isn't it?'

'Oh Dear,' said the Doctor. 'I have just had an alarming thought...'

The Fifith Doctor read his mind. 'You don't mean.... you can't mean....?'

The Seventh nodded: 'Mel'

'As in Gibson. He's well hung.'

'Oh shut the eff up Ace.'


Do you believe in fairies?

The group sat quietly at the table - passing the tequila bottle around and sighing a bit.

Suddenly there was a crash of thunder and some ominous organ music. The door to the pub opened and everyone held his or her breath...

But it was only Charley (with Withnail in tow) and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. She came over to the group.

'Look I don't want to interrupt or anything, but there is the strangest woman outside. She followed me back from the park and kept asking me did I believe in fairies and had I seen a fat bloke wearing a stupid looking coat. Then she threatened to do some panto numbers unless I agreed to help her find him. Has anyone seen a fat irritating git in a stupid coat.'

'Er… with blonde curly hair?' asked the Seventh Doctor.

'And a little cat badge, just about here,' said the Fifth Doctor pointing to his lapel.

'Sort of pompous?'

'Has a particular aversion to carrot juice?'

'Yes,' replied Charley. 'That's the one.'

'No – never seen him,' said the Seventh.

'Or even heard of him,' chimed in the Fifth.

'Oh jolly good,' said Charley as she sat down. 'Now who are all you wierdos?'

The Seventh Doctor smiled. 'Well I'm known as the Doctor, he is also the Doctor, the woman in purple is not trying to make a fashion statement – she's an airline hostess and the young lady currently trying to set my scarf on fire is Ace.'

Charley gasped in amazement. 'You are both the Doctor. Christ. I would never fall in love with you, although I don't mind the blond one'.

The Fifth Doctor smiled.

'Hang on,' said the Seventh. 'You know who I/we/us are?'

'Oh yes. I've got one too, but he is much sexier than you.'

'Hey poncy girl,' interrupted Ace. 'You take that back.'

The Seventh Doctor swatted her with his battered Panama. 'Not now Ace, and put out that incendiary device'.

'And just where is your Doctor,' asked the Fifth.

'Ahh, errr well. He has sort of been captured.'

'Oh great,' said the Seventh. 'I was looking forward to a nice holiday - perhaps kill off Adric again, that sort of thing - but no. Now I have to go rescue another me. Didn't I tell you Ace? This always happens.'

The Fifth stood up. 'Should we take Tegan?' he asked as he looked over to where she was repeatedly bashing the publican's head on the pub counter in an attempt to get served.

'Yes, she may come in handy.'


As they were leaving the Seventh pulled the Fifth Doctor aside.

'There is something I want to give you,' he said handing over the jar containing Nyssa's brain.

'Ahh,' replied the Fifth. He gently placed the jar on the bar behind him. 'Actually I rather like her this way. I decided it was an improvement. I was thinking of upgrading her to an X box.... no Tegan don't drink that'

But sadly it was too late and Nyssa's brain was gone forever and Tegan had passed out dead drunk on the floor.