Little Gallifrey – Chapter Four
A Little Britain / Doctor Who crossover that, like all good comedy trilogies, now comes in four parts.
By Nix Nada
Disclaimer – I own none of this. I do own the computer it was written on though. That must count for something, surely?
Now with 26.273 percent less narration by Tom Baker - guaranteed!
Tom: What? I just told them part three was the end. Oh, bloody hell. You never get treated like this on Monarch of the Glen. Next time, you can get Jon bloody Culshaw to do it…
The pretty young receptionist looked up from her vidscreen to see a dapper, middle-aged man with a neatly-trimmed goatee beard walking into the office. She gave him her most professional smile.
"Good morning, sir," she said. "Welcome to the offices of the Galactic Empire. How may I help you today?"
The man flashed a feral grin. "I am the Master and you can help me by giving me control of the entire universe," he replied, pulling a stubby weapon from his pocket and aiming it at her head.
Instantly, a shimmering force field sprung up between them. The receptionist's smile did not even waver.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, unmoved. "Offensive weaponry is not permitted in these offices. I should warn you that Security has been notified and are on their way here now."
The Master sighed and pocketed the weapon again. "All right, my dear. We shall play your game – but according to my rules."
With that, he fixed her with a stare. "Look into my eyes, the eyes – not around the eyes, don't look around the eyes – look into my eyes. Okay, you're under. Now, I am the Master, and you will obey me. Got that? Okay, you're back in the room."
The receptionist blinked a couple of times, as if unsure of where she was. Then she focussed on the Master and smiled again.
"Good morning, Master," she said. "Welcome to the offices of the Galactic Empire. How may I help you today?"
"Better. First, you can call off Security; next, lower the force field; and finally there's that 'control of the entire universe' thing we discussed earlier. Understand?"
"I'm sorry, Master," she replied. "Control of the entire universe is only permissible through military conquest, intergalactic trade monopoly, or by filling out form 23(b)."
The Master closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten. "Can I have a form 23(b), then, please?"
"You would need to fill out a Form 23(a) to get that, Master."
The Master rolled his eyes. "Let's try this again: look into my eyes, the eyes, not around the eyes – okay? You're under. I've already filled out a form 23(b) and a 23(a) – while I was at it, I even dashed off a couple of form 23s, just to be on the safe side. Now, lower this force field, give me control of everything in creation, and I'll be on my way. All right, you're back in the room."
The receptionist blinked again. "Very good, Master. However, there is the small matter of the administration fee."
The Master let out a strangled cry. "Listen! The eyes, yeah? The eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes – you're under. Now, just listen to me, right? I am the Master and I am damned well going to be lord of all creation, got it? And no silly little girl, sitting behind a desk, is going to stop me. Now, for the last time, you stupid child – give me what I want!"
The receptionist leant forward slightly in her chair. "I should warn you, sir," she replied, "that the Galactic Earth Empire uses androids as receptionists. As such, I am completely immune to hypnosis and can quite easily crush your skull with my bare hands. However, you will be pleased to hear that that will not be necessary, as I have managed to detain you long enough for Security to arrive. Have a nice day."
Tom again: And so we reach the actual end of our journey around Little Gallifrey. Just in time, too; I think the pub's about to open. Mine's a pint of Olde Gallifreyan. Cheers!