The little church hall was packed, heaving to the music of all ages.

Balloons on tables, a running buffet, DJ. It was the embodiment of typical such gatherings; birthday parties, wedding receptions et al.

Mind you, not many had Judoon bouncers on the door. Nor did many have a guest list from all points north in Time and Space, whisked here by pan-dimensional invitations.

It was an eclectic mix with a single common denominator.

Ian Chesterton mainly danced with Barbara Wright. But that did not stop him appreciatively eying Jo Grant or Peri Brown as they shook their stuff.

Adric spent most of the time at the buffet, feeding his E-Space metabolism, much to the tutting disgust of Nyssa and Tegan.

Rose Tyler smiled tightly (again) at Sarah Jane Smith. Donna Noble got slightly tipsy on pear cider and made a pass at Mickey Smith (no relation). Jamie scratched his head at the robot dog whilst, in the corner of the room, Kamelion entertained with his impersonations of various Doctors and so on.

There was a slight hiccup when the Judoon bouncers refused entry to a motley crew including Katerina, Sarah Kingdom and an annoying nerd with a flapping forehead named Adam. But, all in all, the evening went swimmingly as 10 pm approached.

"OK," drawled the DJ at the appointed hour. "Here he is. Your mate and mine. The one, the only, DOCTOR!"

A crescendo of expectant applause welled, only to die to a smattering as an unfamiliar figure bounded onto the little stage from its wings.

He waved enthusiastically to his audience, a slight figure in a tweed jacket with elbow patches. He had a young, bony face and hair that seemed to have a life of its own.

There was a puzzled twitter among the audience.

"Who the blazes -"

"Waaay too young -"

"Is that the best he could do -?" .

"Och, he's got the Doctor's bow-tie at least," murmured a Scottish brogue.

There was a mechanical whir as the robot dog drove up to the edge of the stage. K9's antennae extended, analysing. "Master." it said, by way of greeting.

"Good dog," said the figure on stage.

There was a sigh of relief and a ripple of applause in the room.

"Thanks. I'm not surprised you didn't recognise me. I'm number eleven. Just starting out. And...well...that's why you've all been invited here really. Thanks for coming."

He took something out of his pocket. An upgraded, super-dooper Sonic Screwdriver.

He twisted the stem and held it up, almost like a trophy.

"Don't worry. This won't hurt a bit..."

The room was bathed in a wide-angle blue light for several seconds before the Doctor turned it off. The room was dead quiet.

He turned to the wing of the stage. "Is that what you wanted, Steven?"

A hand appeared out of the shadows and gave him the thumbs-up.

The eleventh Doctor looked around the empty room. "Series One it is then," he murmured to no one in particular and walked off stage.