MISTRIAL OF A TIME LORD
EPISODE FOURTEEN
by ERIC SAWARD in deepest contempt for all concerned
transcribed by EWEN CAMPION-CLARKE with deepest contempt for the original author
first broadcast – NEVER! HAHAHAHAHA!
running time – NONE! HAHAHAHAHA!
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Scene 1 – Mud Flats
[The Doctor and Glitz are walking along the beach. There is the music of a distant fun-fare, as a man with a knife approaches them...]
GLITZ: Look, Doctor, I am a small time crook with small time ambitions. One of those ambitions is to take over Las Vegas with an army of android supermodels and snort cocaine off their tits. And another ambition is to stay alive.
DOCTOR: I rather fancy both of those are beyond your current capabilities, Glitz!
GLITZ: Nonsense. I might not have an army of android supermodels, but thirty four of them is a start!
DOCTOR: You won’t be able to do that if you’re dead, Glitz!
GLITZ: That’s a bit out of left field, Doc.
DOCTOR: Look! Before us! It is... the deadly Mister Pickwick!
[And indeed it is. Otherwise, the cliffhanger wouldn’t make much sense, would it? Suddenly, the Doctor sneezes explosively over the face of Mister Pickwick, who moans and groans and claws at his face in total disgust, wretching.]
PICKWICK: Oh, my god, that is revolting! It went in my mouth! The HUMANITY!
[Mister Pickwick runs to a barrel full of rainwater and tries to wash his face clean.]
GLITZ: Is that supposed to be the ancient Gallifreyan evil you’re supposed to face?
DOCTOR: Alas, I believe it is so.
GLITZ: He’s crap.
DOCTOR: Yes. Rather disappointing all round. I suppose that’ll teach me to listen to the rumor of the ancient time kings and their gladiatorial justice games. No wonder the Bastard always gets off scott free.
[The Doctor crosses to Mister Pickwick, grabs his ankles and flips the Dickensian character face-down into the barrel. His gurgling screams are muffled by the water as the Doctor forces Mister Pickwick bodily into the water and then straightens up, dusting his hands.]
DOCTOR: Well, that seems to be that. Let’s return to the trial room. I have proved my innocence according to the doctorites of Rassilon and I want an apology. I DEMAND COMPENSATION!!
[Suddenly, the Valeyard appears behind Glitz and chloroforms him unconscious. He then lets out a truly evil laugh and a trapdoor opens beneath the Doctor, and he falls into a pool of quicksand.]
DOCTOR: Oh no! This will ruin my suit! Do you know how much it costs to dry clean this? THIS COMES OUT OF MY PAY CHECK!
VALEYARD: Not this time, Doctor!
DOCTOR: Oh. Are you going to pay for it then?
VALEYARD: No! And neither are you! Not even the BBC pay dead men... and YOU are DEAD, Doctor!
[The Doctor broods on this as he sinks deeper into the quicksand.]
DOCTOR: Kill me and you will never gain my remaining regenerations!
VALEYARD: Eh?
DOCTOR: It’s very simple, really. If I die, properly, there won’t be any regenerations for you to steal! Come to think of it, won’t YOU simply cease to exist if I die prematurely.
VALEYARD: Oh. Yes, now you come to mention it, that IS a slight drawback.
DOCTOR: You see? You really ought to think things through sensibly.
VALEYARD: Hang on, wait. Wait. Yes! Ahem. You see, we are not dealing with the one-dimensional concept of reality! If you perish here in the Matrix of Time, I can steal your regenerations and emerge retconned into existence – and then there shall be nothing to restrain me!!
DOCTOR: But how are you going to steal them?
VALEYARD: Remember that autograph I tricked you into signing? That was actually a document legally entitling me to all your future regenerations!
DOCTOR: Bollocks! You think a piece of paper can transfer the life essence of a Time Lord?
VALEYARD: Yeah.
DOCTOR: Well, it can’t!
VALEYARD: Prove it.
[An awkward pause. The Doctor sinks slower.]
DOCTOR: But anyway, I signed it ‘with love and affection to all the members of ZZ Top’ – NOT YOU!
VALEYARD: For the sake of this charade I am ZZ Top! I thought you understood – you are in a world entirely of my making!
DOCTOR: Then I deny your world!
VALEYARD: How rude! Do I go around denying worlds whenever life gets slightly inconvenient? No. Honestly. I don’t have to put up with this! What bad manners!
[The Valeyard grabs the unconscious Glitz and scampers away into the mist. The Doctor continues to sink lower into the mud.]
DOCTOR: Today is turning out to be a very odd day.
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Scene 2 – the Valeyard’s TARDIS
[With typical BBC cheapness, it’s just the normal TARDIS control room with some 19th Century French Music Hall theatre posters on the wall. There is a hi-tech wide-screen Samsung screen crudely attached to a wall. There is also an old fridge in the corner with a sign saying "TIME VENT – DO NOT OPEN FOR MORE THAN 72 SECONDS" on the door. The Valeyard enters with Glitz, closes the doors and switches on the screen. It shows the Doctor.]
VALEYARD: So... are you dead yet?
DOCTOR: [dist] No!
VALEYARD: Shit.
[He turns to Glitz and nudges him until he regains consciousness.]
VALEYARD: Wake up now, Sabalom Glitz, or sleep for good! The choice is yours!
GLITZ: [half-asleep] Huh? What did you do to me?
VALEYARD: I cocooned your mind in an illusion. And drugged you.
GLITZ: It was horrible!
VALEYARD: For that you must blame yourself. The form of mind-deception I employed extrapolated upon your innermost fears and fantasies. And I think you might have wet yourself as well.
GLITZ: I’m going right off you, mate. I do not like being humiliated unless there are underage girls and rolling cameras invovled!
VALEYARD: Tough luck, buster! In my world you either cooperate or be very, very sorry that you didn’t!
GLITZ: Tacky little platitudes seem to drip from you like sweat from a speelsnape’s armpit!
VALEYARD: [sighs] It’s the burden of being cast as the villain. Somehow restrained dialogue seems to lack sufficient tone. I’d say I needed a new role, but I’m sure experience will provide the necessary fine tuning. Mind you, last episode of the season and all that... Still, enough about this script’s shortcomings...
[Glitz tackles the Valeyard and slams him against the wall. The Valeyard squawks as Glitz draws back his arm and repeatedly punches him in the head.]
VALEYARD: YAHHH! Such futile gestures... OOF! ...only induce... excessive... ARGHHH!... violence!
DOCTOR: [dist] Er, excuse me. I think you left the phone off the hook.
VALEYARD: [dazed] Shut up! We’re having a serious debate at the moment, so just die!
[He knees Glitz in the groin. Glitz goes cross-eyed and falls over as the Valeyard staggers over to the console.]
DOCTOR: [dist] I don’t know what you think you’re doing. This is quicksand and everyone knows that anything that falls into quicksand is eventually spat out again. And with my amazing Time Lord powers, I’ll just stop breathing for a few hours before I get loud out. I’m in absolutely no danger whatsoever.
VALEYARD: So you keep saying... but you know you haven't the strength!
DOCTOR: [dist] I do SO have the strength!
VALEYARD: But it’s not real quicksand! It’s an illusion!
DOCTOR: [dist] ...so, what am I worried about?
VALEYARD: Ah. Good point, actually. Well made. Did I mention I have perfected the talent for mind control which you chose, in your misguided youth, to neglect?
DOCTOR: [dist] Yes, actually. How is this relevant?
VALEYARD: Well. You know. You can only escape illusions by understanding illusions!
DOCTOR: [dist] Illusion is for the theatre, not real life. Even you must understand that!
[The Valeyard looks at his posters, hurt.]
VALEYARD: Illusion is an honoured Time Lord cult!
DOCTOR: [dist] As is penguin worship!
VALEYARD: You’re so uncouth, Doctor, you need to get out more and enjoy sophisticated company for once instead of all those higher anthropoids you keep molesting. A little bit of culture would do you the world of good... IF YOU WEREN’T ABOUT TO DIE!
DOCTOR: [dist] Which I’m not.
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Scene 3 – Mud Flats
[The Doctor has now sunk up to his waist.]
DOCTOR: Unless you’re going to bore me to death.
VALEYARD: [vo] And I might just do that! I can link minds! I can levitate!
DOCTOR: Any weak-minded twat can do that! Nowadays, the only people who practice that stuff seriously are children’s entertainers!
VALEYARD: [vo] Are you comparing me to a children’s fucking entertainer?
DOCTOR: Yeah. Wanna make something of it?
VALEYARD: [vo] Feeble provocation, Doctor.
DOCTOR: Oh, sorry, I didn’t think you were up to the good stuff.
VALEYARD: [vo] Die, already!
DOCTOR: Whatever, Yardboy. And do you really, honestly think that the High Council are going to ratify this so-called deal it has with you?
VALEYARD: [dist] Maybe.
DOCTOR: You gullible moron, you.
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Scene 4 – the Valeyard’s TARDIS
[Glitz is getting to his feet, snatching up a copy of The Radio Times with a cover reading ‘DR. WHO SUCKS NOW UNRECOGNIZED GENIUS SAWARD HAS QUIT’ and, glaring at the Valeyard, falls into an armchair and starts reading.]
VALEYARD: I have an inviolable agreement! That means it can’t be broken!
DOCTOR: [dist] Bullshit!
VALEYARD: It does so, I checked in the dictionary!
DOCTOR: [dist] And is this covenant of yours lodged in the Matrix?
VALEYARD: Yep!
DOCTOR: [dist] Is it pledged by each and every member of the High Council?
VALEYARD: Correct.
DOCTOR: [dist] Ah, but is it SIGNED by each and every member of the High Council?
VALEYARD: Uh-huh.
DOCTOR: [dist] Er, but it’s not SEALED by each and every member of the High Council, is it?
VALEYARD: Yes it is, pig features! Feeling confident now, huh? The moment you die, your unused lives will be transferred to me –
DOCTOR: [dist] I’m not dead.
VALEYARD: Give it time!
DOCTOR: [dist] I’m not buying this crap. Why didn’t you just kill me first chance you got?
GLITZ: He’s got a point there.
VALEYARD: Silence, oaf!
[He crosses over to the arm chair imperiously slaps Glitz in the face, repeatedly. Glitz looked at him, shocked. Then he punches the Valeyard in the stomach, and he falls over.]
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Scene 5 – Mud Flats
[The Doctor, arms folded, has sunk lower into the mud.]
VALEYARD: [vo] Ow! My intestines! Oh, I can’t see properly! It hurts! It hurts so bad!!
DOCTOR: You haven’t answered the question, lawboy!
VALEYARD: [vo] I... oh, my nasal cavity... I wish to savor... the moment of my death. After all, how many people survive successful self-murder?
DOCTOR: It’s called ‘suicide’, learned court prosecutor.
VALEYARD: [vo] Stop correcting me! I hate being corrected! It makes me want to destroy the universe!
DOCTOR: Garbage! I've heard more sense from a lobotomized speelsnape.
VALEYARD: [vo] Oh, so I’m a lobotomized speelsnape children’s entertainer now, am I?
DOCTOR: You wish!
VALEYARD: [vo] Charming!
DOCTOR: Cut the crap, Valeyard. You’ve lost your nerve! That’s why you haven’t killed me yet. The Matrix has been pissed about with by just about everyone. Hell, even I’ve hacked into it and irresponsibly edited it for a laugh on a rainy afternoon. You can’t trust the Matrix to work for you. And you can’t trust the reactionary middle-class stereotypes on the High Council either!
VALEYARD: [vo] I DON’T WISH TO DISCUSS THIS! But... for the benefits of the viewers, assuming there are still any... I wrote the bloody contract myself!
DOCTOR: Did you?
VALEYARD: [vo] Well, I dictated it. But my secretary is just as inviolable as the contract.
DOCTOR: Hah! She wouldn’t sleep with you either, would she?
VALEYARD: [vo] I am not rising to the bait, Doctor.
DOCTOR: So, your entire scheme rests on a temp getting the small print right. And not, for example, adding some small print after the deal was struck. I’d have another look if I were you.
VALEYARD: [vo] Hahaha! But you ARE me.
[A pause.]
DOCTOR: So go and look it up then, you retard.
VALEYARD: [vo] Again, feeble provocation!
DOCTOR: Again, feeble rejoinder. You think five hundred more years of experience and knowledge might make you be able to argue logically for more than thirty seconds.
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Scene 5 – the Valeyard’s TARDIS
[In the background, Glitz is throwing darts at a board showing Michael Grade’s face.]
VALEYARD: I know what you’re trying to do! You’re trying to send me round the twist! Make me insane with paranoia! That’s what you’re trying to do! Admit it! You’re making me think that the High Council have betrayed me and sabotaged the contract so when I kill you something halfway reasonable and logical occurs and I drop out of existence. Is that what you’re saying? Because they’re afraid if this whole Secrets-of-the-Time-Lords fiasco goes to court I will be the chief prosecution witness? And they think things will go much easier if I’m not around to contradict their lies, is that what you’re telling me? Is that it? That the High Council of double-dealing two-faced back-stabbing bastards might NOT have been completely honest with me, is that the particular strain of total bollocks you’re spewing at me?
DOCTOR: [dist] No. But now you happen to mention it, it does make lots of sense...
[With a wail of despair, the Valeyard headbutts the console. The screen turns to static.]
VALEYARD: Oh, Christ, now I’ve lost the picture! WHY IS LIFE SO HORRIBLE TO ME?!?!
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Scene 6 – Mud Flats
[The Doctor looks up as there is a loud, electronic noise. Floating dialogue boxes and error messages flash through the air above them.]
DOCTOR: What are you doing, you madman? Click control-alt-delete before it crashes!
[The Doctor struggles even harder to free himself from the mud and sees a shape of a man attempting to materialize nearby.]
DOCTOR: If I see a certain question mark umbrella, I may have to have a slightly psychotic episode.
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Scene 7 – the Valeyard’s TARDIS
[The Valeyard checks his control console with increasing panic. Glitz looks up from drawing glasses and beards on the faces on the music hall posters.]
GLITZ: You screed! You’ve done away with him!
VALEYARD: No I haven’t! Stop accusing me!
GLITZ: You mean he’s still alive?
VALEYARD: Yes.
GLITZ: You are such a loser, you know that?
VALEYARD: Feeble provocation! That’s all you are! Feeble!
GLITZ: You want proper provocation then? Only had to ask...
[Glitz leaps at the Valeyard and knocks him to the floor.]
VALEYARD: Ah! Don’t hit me! Don’t hit me! Not in the face!
[Glitz repeatedly kicks the Valeyard in the ribs. He screams again and again.]
VALEYARD: Changed my mind! In the face! IN THE FACE!
[An alarm starts to flash on the console. Glitz and the Valeyard look up – in the middle of Glitz snapping the Valeyard’s arm over his knee.]
VALEYARD: Is that the doorbell?
GLITZ: Well, I’m not expecting anyone.
VALEYARD: Be still, fool! Another mind must be trying to attempt to break into my illusion!
[Glitz opens his mouth to speak.]
VALEYARD: I said, be silent!
GLITZ: No you didn’t!
VALEYARD: Didn’t I? Well, I’m telling you now, microbe!
[Glitz snaps the Valeyard’s arm. He screams.]
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Scene 8 - Mud Flats
[The Doctor is still trying to get free as the shimmering shape comes and goes then slowly stabilizes into a familiar form.]
DOCTOR: Oh no! It would have to be you, wouldn’t it?
BASTARD: [for it is he] Well, I am credited as guest cast in both episodes, aren’t I?
DOCTOR: So’s Mel, I still haven’t seen her this week.
BASTARD: Are you complaining?
DOCTOR: Yes. Yes I am.
BASTARD: Well... don’t. Show a little gratitude, my dear Doctor.
DOCTOR: My apologies. I’m grateful.
BASTARD: [surprised] What? Really?
DOCTOR: GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF THIS QUICKSAND!
[The Bastard gingerly crosses to the Doctor, grimacing and ‘eww’ing. He reluctantly looks for a bit of the Doctor NOT covered in quicksand stains.]
BASTARD: Yuck. Eww... Did I mention that I am here at enormous inconvenience to myself?
DOCTOR: JUST GET ON WITH IT!
BASTARD: [shrugs] Oh, well, here goes.
[The Bastard lunges forward, grabs hold of the Doctor’s curly blond hair, twists it round his hands and starts to pull. The Doctor screams, purple-faced and goes cross-eyed as he slowly oozes out of the quicksand. Finally the Doctor is free and, still screaming, repeatedly punches the Bastard in the head to let go. He then clutches his scalp and moans loudly.]
BASTARD: [brushing himself down] I didn’t realize illusions could be so... messy. How am I going to hold my head up in Stringfellows now? I shall have to cancel dinner with Billy and Pamela – what a shame, we were having a particularly fine linguine to go with the cappuccinos...
DOCTOR: Oh, shut the hell up!
BASTARD: Temper, temper.
DOCTOR: We’ve already wasted five minutes of the episode, can we get back to the plot?
BASTARD: The plot. Oh, that old thing. Dear me, do you remember where we left it?
DOCTOR: Well, it HAS been fourteen weeks.
BASTARD: Yes. Well, we’ll have to concentrate and remember where we were up to.
DOCTOR: Sounds difficult.
BASTARD: Oh grow up.
DOCTOR: YOU grow up, you bloody yuppie!
BASTARD: Hey, I resemble that remark!
[The Bastard shoves the Doctor in the shoulder. He shoves the Bastard back and soon there is a punch up as they are surrounded by a thick patch of swirling fog. Soon it clears, and a flaw in the visual continuity means that the Doctor’s clothes showing no signs of his muddy encounter. The Bastard is a little breathless, as the Doctor is throttling him with a passion.]
DOCTOR: We’re still in the Matrix.
BASTARD: Of course we’re still in the Matrix, why would we have left it?
DOCTOR: Oh well, at least we’re not still in the Valeyard’s illusion.
BASTARD: Um. Actually... we are.
DOCTOR: Oh well, at least you can get me out of this.
BASTARD: Well, now you come to mention it...
DOCTOR: Surely you can get me out of something so... elementary!
BASTARD: Elementary and derivative this story scenario may be, Doctor, but the Valeyard is sustaining this illusion drawing power from the very core of the Matrix itself...
DOCTOR: You don’t mean...
BASTARD: Yes! Old Holmes scripts. He’s milking every cliché he can get.
DOCTOR: Hence the preponderance of unfunny double acts.
BASTARD: Yes, that’s – what do you mean ‘unfunny’?
DOCTOR: Well, since when were YOU in any way amusing.
BASTARD: Ken Brannah thinks I am hilarious. [long pause] Point taken. Yes, Doctor, you’re right. Although I may appear to be my usual suave, urbane self...
[The Doctor starts to giggle.]
BASTARD: Shut up. I am, in fact, using up massive amounts of energy to sustain my presence.
DOCTOR: Hardly seems worth it, does it?
BASTARD: Fine! Fuck you then!
DOCTOR: There’s no time for merriment, Bastard, we must find the Valeyard quickly before he can cause any more trouble and upset the narrative. We’ve got half a dozen story arcs to resolve!
BASTARD: Well, my thesauratic enemy, THAT you must do so alone. Alas, I fade.
[The Bastard groans theatrically as his image shimmers slightly.]
DOCTOR: Oh, very convincing!
BASTARD: Do you mind? I’m not the one with the Valeyard dare not harm until he’s confirmed the wording of the contract lodged in the Matrix, am I?
DOCTOR: Oh, did you listen to those fifteen hours of non-stop pedantic insults?
BASTARD: I skipped through some of the Ceefax captions and got the basic gist of it. Anyway, I don’t have to stand around here being insulted. I have to check up on the stock exchange and see how my shares in A-Team merchandise are doing.
DOCTOR: You bloody traitor.
BASTARD: Ahem. I am called "the Bastard" for a reason, you know.
DOCTOR: I thought that was because you had the annoying habit of vanishing in the middle of a conversation thus allowing you to win an argument...
[Suddenly the Bastard is gone. The Doctor looks around.]
DOCTOR: GOD DAMN!!
[He looks around, and shudders at the gloom and depressive atmosphere of the script.]
DOCTOR: Allied with my worst enemy against a future version of myself... this might actually turn out to be something worth watching!
[He then turns to move off, but almost bumps into the rainwater barrel. He smiles weakly as he sidesteps it.]
DOCTOR: [mutters] Careful. Don’t want another scene-shifter’s strike...
[But his smile fades when he notices on the ground the wet, grotesque footprints of whatever was in the barrel. The Doctor follows the tracks with his eyes. He turns one hundred and eighty degrees only to find another set of footprints.]
DOCTOR: Unknown water monsters to the left of me, unknown water monsters to the right of me, here I am, stuck in a script written by you! Is this the best you can do? So much power yet so little imagination! You don’t deserve to be a script editor you ungrateful bit of pondscum – no one even READS Starburst Magazine, anyway!
[A harsh, evil laugh is heard from a drunken hack sitting at a typewriter.]
AUTHOR: You were shit in Blake’s 7 too, Colin!
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Scene 9 – the Valeyard’s TARDIS
[Glitz is slamming the Valeyard’s head against the console again and again and again. Suddenly the screen clears to show the Doctor trashing the reputation of his own script editor.]
GLITZ: Oh. Look. It’s working again.
[He realizes the Valeyard, who spits out a ridiculously large amount of loose teeth.]
VALEYARD: [dazed] Huh? What’s he doing?
GLITZ: I think he’s shouting about you being an unimaginative twat.
VALEYARD: Hah! So you think I lack imagination?
GLITZ: Yes. I do.
VALEYARD: I wasn’t talking to you! I was talking to him!
[He points dramatically at the scanner.]
GLITZ: He doesn’t seem to have heard you.
VALEYARD: The point still stands. We shall see, Doctor, if I lack imagination or not.
GLITZ: So, the last two episodes aren’t proof enough then?
VALEYARD: No! I shall prove I have an incredible imagination!
GLITZ: How?
VALEYARD: No idea. But I’ll work something out. Something so massive, so merciless, that it will live in history itself!
GLITZ: You’re ripping off Terry Nation now?
VALEYARD: Am I? Oh. Well, that’s because I’m saving my imagination for being unleashed on the unsuspecting Doctor!
GLITZ: ...who you’re not going to kill.
VALEYARD: Not until I’ve fully demonstrated how amazingly imaginative I am, no.
GLITZ: The Doc’s right, inne? You’re dead frightened the High Council’s got at your contract.
VALEYARD: I am not!
[The Valeyard’s face screws into a crinkled ball of hate.]
GLITZ: Are you all right?
VALEYARD: No, I’m screwing my face into a crinkled ball of hate!
GLITZ: Oh. [pause] I thought you were constipated.
VALEYARD: Well, I’m not!
GLITZ: You LOOK constipated.
VALEYARD: The amount of fibre in my diet is not up for discussion, OK?
GLITZ: So you ARE constipated.
VALEYARD: I won’t waste time explaining things to a lesser intellect like you!
[Glitz nods. Then he kicks the Valeyard square in the nuts, and the evil Time Lord collapses, sobbing.]
GLITZ: NOW your face is screwed up into a crinkled ball of hate!
VALEYARD: [in mortal agony] Yes, thank you for that lecture in convincing facial expressions.
GLITZ: Glad to be of help.
[He kicks the Valeyard again. Just for the hell of it.]
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Scene 10 - Deep Space
[The gigantic yellow submarine is emblazened against the void of space. We pass the illuminated flashing signs saying "DANGER – FANWANK", to see the six court sections of the station: Varnax vs. Zilla; The Bastard vs. The Nestle Consciousness; Faction Paradox vs. Mad Larry the Pirate King; Salyavin vs. Dirk Gently, Holistic Detective; Astralabus vs. Shazar; and finally the High Council of Time Lords vs. The Doctor. This one has a flashing light marked ‘Adjourned for Lunch’.]
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Scene 11 - Trial Room
[Members of the court stand around quietly chatting, smoking, playing cards or having afternoon naps; including two of the Chancellery Guard – French and Saunders – who have taken off their helmets and drinking from plastic cups of BBC-issued revolting coffee.]
SAUNDERS: So, we are Gallifreyans. But we’re not on Gallifrey. We’re somewhere else with very convincing model shots that will be used in DVD menus for decades to come.
FRENCH: Yes, it’s all part of a kangaroo court set up solely to silence the Doctor before he discovers some corrupt secret at the heart of Time Lord society and sells it to the newspapers for the price of a cup of tea.
SAUNDERS: So, we’re in on the conspiracy, are we?
FRENCH: Well, we say we’re not, but otherwise it gets a little bit confusing.
SAUNDERS: So, it’s not actually confusing already then?
FRENCH: No, it’s incredibly confusing. You remember that bloke they dragged out of here in a straight jacket screaming we were all fools and that nothing can prevent the catharsis of spurious morality?
SAUNDERS: Yes. Why?
FRENCH: Well, that was just the continuity announcer.
[We pan to a corner where the Inquisitor is in earnest conversation with a senior member of the court.]
INQUISITOR: I can’t believe this. We’ve been in session for a good three weeks now listening to those pantomime gits hurling pun-based insults at each other. I became Inquisitor through centuries of careful studying, research, work experience and sleeping with the right people. The next time a corrupt administration needs a smokescreen to cover their own incompetence, well, they better not come crying to me.
SENIOR COURT OFFICIAL: Oh, so you’re in the conspiracy too then?
INQUISITOR: Of course. How else do you think someone so impartial can explain huge parts of the plot?
SENIOR COURT OFFICIAL: I thought you’d just got your lines mixed up.
INQUISITOR: Piss off! And don’t come back until you have some proper exposition to impart.
SENIOR COURT OFFICIAL: If there’s another season, I’ll remind you of this outrage.
INQUISITOR: No fear of that, arsewipe.
[The senior court official hobbles off. The Kipper of the Matrix and Mel are before the Matrix Screen, watching a slow-motion action replay of the last few scenes.]
MEL: He’s just buggered off as soon as he resolves the cliffhanger!
KIPPER: This is so typical of the Bastard. First he’s relevant to the ongoing storyline, then he’s just a glorified celebrity cameo. A most confusing script for such a straightforward fellow.
MEL: Does it matter? Just as long as he helps the Doctor finish the story!
KIPPER: I fear that that whatever the Bastard does will be exclusively for his own purpose.
MEL: According to the Doctor, most Time Lords are the same.
KIPPER: A very cynical observation. And bleeding obvious into the bargain.
MEL: Well, you seemed happy enough stating the bloody obvious, so I thought I’d join in.
KIPPER: The Time Lords aren’t a completely self-serving parasitical egomania-driven oligarchy. We are simply a very old civilization, prone to a certain eccentricity...
MEL: So trying to control the whole universe, altering time at a whim and cruelly manipulating entire civilizations so they can never be an intellectual threat is eccentric, is it?
KIPPER: It is... unless you want us to get eccentric with you, ginger!
MEL: Is that a threat?
KIPPER: Yes. Didn’t that come across?
MEL: Not really, I thought you were flirting.
KIPPER: You disgust me, ape primitive.
[The Inquisitor sweeps importantly across the room.]
KIPPER: Do you mind? We’ve got cleaners to that for us!
MEL: Yes, can’t you wait till the trial’s over?
INQUISITOR: I’m practicing for my new career.
MEL: You’ll certainly make a clean sweep of it!
[The Inquisitor and the Kipper stare at her.]
MEL: It’s a joke.
[They continue to stare.]
INQUISITOR: Go away. This is Time Lord business.
[She turns to speak conspiratorially in the Kipper’s ear. Mel does not move.]
KIPPER: What? The High Council has resigned? En masse? You gather that Gallifrey has been into turmoil? And you want me to stop repeating everything you whisper to me at the top of my voice? Oh right. Um, do they yet know of the events that have taken place here?
MEL: Oh, the stuff about deliberately sacrificing the entire planet Earth and destroying a large part of the timelines to hide our porn favorites and detailed lists about Page 3 girls? I think that might actually be the reason they resigned.
INQUISITOR: Were we talking to you, redhead? A clue: sod off!
KIPPER: Still, look on the bright side. It’s not as if there’s going to be civil war.
INQUISITOR: Why would there be civil war?
KIPPER: Well, imagine what would happen if they found out that the Matrix of All Knowledge was violated by a rather strange prosecution attorney in a stupid hat – the whole foundation of Time Lord society compromised by an ineffectual bit of Andromedan firewall software.
MEL: Well, if we help the Doctor find the Valeyard, no one need ever know.
INQUISITOR: What?!? What the hell makes you think that?
KIPPER: Yeah, show your working, earth girl. How exactly will us getting the Doctor and the Valeyard into one room magically stop the breakdown of Gallifreyan society and insurrectionist uprising.
MEL: Simple. Er...
[The Inquisitor and the Kipper fold their arms and nod expectantly.]
INQUISITOR: Yes. Go on.
MEL: If the Doctor... er... defeats the Valeyard and um... stops his evil plan...
KIPPER: WHAT evil plan?
MEL: OK, forget the evil plan bit. If the Valeyard is defeated, then, well, the Matrix will stop being violated and you know, people won’t actually want to go to civil war. [rapidly getting upset] Because there won’t be any... bad stuff... happening... you know...
INQUISITOR: Is that it? Is that all you’ve got?
KIPPER: Aren’t you supposed to be a computer programmer?
[Mel starts screaming and runs off crying and covering her ears. The Time Lords look on, confused and suspicious. Then they get bored and look away.]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Scene 12 – the Valeyard’s TARDIS
[Glitz is now sitting next to a black Harley Davidson with a toolbox, reading from a copy of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" in one hand. The Valeyard is standing by a mirror, fingering the numerous bruises and cuts he has received since the writer finds physical violence so much easier to write than genuine characterization. The Valeyard looks at the scanner - we see the Doctor moving along a section of dark alleyway lined with doorways.]
VALEYARD: Ahah! The Doctor is walking right into my trap!!
[Glitz doesn’t look up from the bike he is working on.]
GLITZ: What trap would that be?
VALEYARD: He’s in an illusionary world entirely at my command! Statistically speaking, there’s bound to be a trap that he is walking into sooner or later.
GLITZ: You mean your entire evil plan is working on the law of probabilities?
VALEYARD: Don’t say it like that is a bad thing!
GLITZ: Aren’t you supposed to be the evil future Doc or something? Can’t you just remember what he was going to do and then lay a vaguely useful trap?
VALEYARD: Of course I can! In fact, you know, I was doing that already!
[He starts to mooch around the control room, sulkily.]
VALEYARD: I’m doing it right now. I can sense his very thought patterns occurring in his head.
GLITZ: Yeah, sure.
VALEYARD: It’s true, damn it!
GLITZ: What’s he thinking about then?
VALEYARD: [clears throat] They’re very deep and complex multi-dimensional cognitive processes, Sabalom. I doubt your tiny mind could possibly understand them without going stark staring insane. Sort of an HP Lovecraft vibe going on there.
GLITZ: [picks up screwdriver] You don’t know, do you?
VALEYARD: I do! I bloody do! It’s just... well, LOOK AT HIM!
[They watch the Doctor on the scanner for a moment.]
VALEYARD: He’s a total loony! His thought patterns are beyond confusing! At the moment he’s concerned about something called "Melbush". I mean, how am I supposed to work with gibberish like that? Melbush? MELBUSH?! He is in the middle of a tacky computational matrix of illusions specifically designed to kill him and what does he think about? A FUCKING POT PLANT!
GLITZ: So you don’t think he might be thinking about that bit of siddle he knocks about with?
VALEYARD: [confused] ...what, Andromedan?!
GLITZ: You know. Mel. The woman in the trial room. The same one you’ve been reviewing evidence for over the last two months?
VALEYARD: Oh. Yes. Well. Possibly. He might be thinking about her?
GLITZ: You completely forgot about her, didn’t you? Your brain must have stretch-marks!
VALEYARD: Shut up! I have just come up with something truly evil... truly dark... truly...
GLITZ: Yeah?
VALEYARD: ...well, whatever it is, it’s dark and evil. That’s enough, isn’t it?
[The Valeyard taps at the console buttons. The scanner changes to a picture of Mel posing in front of a radio telescope in Pease Pottage.]
VALEYARD: Is that her?
GLITZ: What? You really don’t know?
VALEYARD: Shut up and answer the question!
GLITZ: Shut up AND answer the question?
VALEYARD: JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!
GLITZ: All right, all right. That’s her! Now can you switch it off, it’s making me nauseous.
VALEYARD: Perfect.
[The Valeyard starts operating control. Glitz isn’t happy.]
GLITZ: I’m not happy.
[See?]
VALEYARD: Oh, well, I better abandon all my plans for universal domination right away! Quick, demolish the constitution immediately! Contact the Guardians of Light and Time! A two-bit crook from Salostaphos isn’t happy!
GLITZ: Why do you have to bring Mel into it? Isn’t this mess irritating enough?
VALEYARD: Sentimentality does not become you, Sabalom Glitz.
GLITZ: At least I’m capable of fixing motorbikes!
VALEYARD: It’s a weakness and not a thing to boast about.
GLITZ: Like every single thing you say and do, you worthless time-wasting zobster you?
VALEYARD: Feeble provocation. Again. That’s all I get from people. You open up just a little and what do you get? Feeble provocation!
[Glitz hurls a spanner at the Valeyard’s head. It bounces off as the Valeyard is slammed, head-first against the console again. This causes the picture on the scanner to change back to the Doctor in his alley. The Valeyard gets to his feet, concussed.]
VALEYARD: All right. Ow. Moving on.
[Glitz points at the screen with a spark plug.]
GLITZ: So, what are you gonna with him now Mr. Imaginative?
VALEYARD: Stand witness, Sabalom Glitz! Look upon my work and MARVEL!!
[The Valeyard flicks yet another switch and a spinning circle is superimposed over the screen image of the Doctor. Nothing else happens. A long pause.]
GLITZ: What, you’re going to superimpose a screensaver over him? Is that all you’ve got?
VALEYARD: That’s not a screensaver!
GLITZ: Looks like a screensaver to me.
VALEYARD: It is not. It is quite clearly.... [checks the console] Ah. No. Sorry. That IS a screensaver. Shit.
[The Valeyard starts operating more controls. The circle vanishes.]
GLITZ: So what are you trying to do? Get him so nostalgic running up and down corridors he forgets all about you? Shouldn’t take that much doing.
VALEYARD: I am going, mental deficient, to lose him.
GLITZ: Lose him.
VALEYARD: Yes. Lose him.
GLITZ: Lose him.
VALEYARD: In a very safe place.
GLITZ: Lose him.
VALEYARD: Yes.
GLITZ: Lose him.
VALEYARD: STOP SAYING THAT!!!
GLITZ: OK. Why exactly, do you want to lose him?
VALEYARD: In a very safe place.
GLITZ: Yes. Why? To what end, you stupid twat?
VALEYARD: To keep him out of the way, safe and sound. Until I get round to confirming the wording of my contract. Which I will get round to doing. It’s on my daily agenda.
GLITZ: Shouldn’t you get on with it, then?
VALEYARD: [grandly] I work to my own pace.
GLITZ: Oo-er – sounds a bit rude.
[The Valeyard stares at him.]
GLITZ: But aren’t you running out of time?
VALEYARD: What do you know about time, you hirsuite loon?
GLITZ: Well, someone’s already managed to break into your illusion.
VALEYARD: What? Did they?
GLITZ: How do you think the Doctor got out of the quicksand?
VALEYARD: [in sudden realization] Oh my god, you’re absolutely on the button! Bloody hell! Things are getting serious!
[Glitz shakes his head and goes back to the bike as the panicking Valeyard races around the console, operating more controls and making stupid frightened noises.]
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