Hi folks!

It's been a long, long time since I was posting on this group, but I had
some rare time off the other week and, for whatever reason, I spent a bit of
it polishing off my ever-so-slightly-silly TDF piece, a non-stop riot of
action movie referencing and mickey-taking. Anyone who can spot every single
reference in this rollicking tale will get a lollipop.

Apologies for any formatting errors, it really has been a VERY long time...


The karaoke night was not going well. The sixth Doctor had insisted on
performing, despite the fact that the author couldn't be bothered writing
any filks. He was currently staggering around the small stage singing Any
Dream Will Do, raising his voice even further whenever he came to a bit
about his coat.
Behind the bar, Adric was getting an ear-bashing from all
the other regulars for breaking the House rule about not serving the sixth
Doctor ten pints of Fox's Nob on karaoke nights.
"With golden LIIINNNNNNNNing. Ahahahhh. BRIGHT COLOURS
sheeiining. Aahaaah."
"I've never heard that!" the Alzarian protested, almost in tears. He felt a
light touch on his shoulder and turned to see Sgloomi Po bouncing around in
a state of some agitation and waving the list of House rules. At the bottom,
in crayon, was written.
"Is bad form make pretend-sing Doc tiddly-squiffy. Is much
Adric's heart sank. His lip began to quiver when he saw a
short figure in brown weaving through the crowd of angry Doctors and UNIT
troops towards him.
"It might be your shift, weasel, but I don't think they'll
object this time," said Nyssa with a nasty smile. The fifth Doctor looked
alarmed as she started rummaging in her Sean the Sheep rucksack.
"Nyssa, don't do anything hasty," he murmured, before
blanching under her stare. He hastily corrected himself. "I mean, under the
circumstances, you could at least let us hold him down for you."
"To see for certain. What I thought I knew."
Everyone in the bar turned and groaned with dismay as the
sixth Doctor began again. When they turned back again, something was wrong.
Nyssa was getting up from the floor, a red mark swelling on
her jaw where she had been punched. Adric was rubbing the knuckles of one
hand against his green trousers, while training Nyssa's own gun on her with
the other.
"Young man," began the third Doctor, shocked. Adric sneered,
his aim unwavering.
"Young? For god's sake, I'm nearly forty! I've been wearing
this damn wig for nearly twenty years, just so the Bohemian and Romana could
pretend we were a normal family!" He gestured with his free hand at the
couple, who decided to beat a hasty retreat upstairs.
Nyssa stared down the barrel of the gun, and raised her
hands. For one moment, their eyes met.
Then Adric shot her hand.
"You're barred, bitch! Now get out, and take your hand with
you!" He began to laugh as Nyssa lay curled around her shattered limb,
sobbing. He laughed until Sgloomi interrupted him.
"Is not rule. All pretend-acting characters is using nice
hostelry for chit-chatty vignettes, drinkies and much jiggy-jiggy."
Adric stopped, and considered. Then reached a decision.
"Fine. Then I'll leave."
He dropped his apron on Nyssa and then jogged out of the
door. The crowd parted before him, quite quickly.
The fifth Doctor dropped to Nyssa's side and examined her
hand. The bone was shattered, but at least the bullet had passed straight
through (in fact the slug had carried on to take out the microphone, but the
sixth Doctor was just singing louder, so no one had noticed). He bandaged
the hand with some of the frills from the third Doctor's shirt. Then he
"Soon be good as new, I expect. Now," he indicated the
apron, "it looks like it's your shift. Ten pints of Fox's Nob, please."
* * *

Later, Nyssa slipped away from the pub as two Doctors, Peri and most of UNIT
caroused their way through a filk of Richard O'Brien's Timewarp. She found a
Harley in the car park.
Adric had left his star badge pinned to the apron. She
slipped it between the handlebars. With this injury, she might never
synthesise a cure for a space plague again. She still had the Sean the Sheep
rucksack full of weapons, however. She would be needing them.
"I remember, doing the Timelash! Grabbing that tinsel when."
She started the bike, and slipped into the maze of country lanes around the
pub. Away she rode. No luck. No hope. No love.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

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