Izzy looked at her near-namesake with some trepidation. No-one ever came to the creche except to complain or to hatch an evil plan, and Isobel Watkins wasn't doing anything to change that state of affairs.
"I've been hearing things about the stories that get told in this nursery," Isobel began. "And it seems to me that they're not at all suitable material for impressionable young children."
"Personally, I'm inclined to agree," Izzy said cautiously. "But the little ones seem to like the violence. If I leave it out I get complaints."
"Violence?" Isobel shook her head. "Never mind that. What about the outmoded anti-feminist patriarchical value system that these stories impose? Every single one of them seems to involve a princess who spends her whole life mooning after a wholly inadequate prince, or being given away in marriage to some buffoon for killing a dragon."
"Didn't you meet your canonical fiancé when he helped to save you — and the rest of the Earth — from the Cybermen?" Izzy asked innocently.
"That has nothing to do with anything," Isobel retorted. "My point is that these children are badly in need of strong female role models."
At this point the proceedings were interrupted by the appearance of Baby Mel.
"Miss," she announced, with all the priggishness she could muster. "Fourth and Second have pinched the tin of jelly babies, and they're eating them all."
"Not again!" Izzy muttered, and set off at a run.
Mel looked up at Isobel.
"What are you doing with the Book?" she asked. "Are you going to tell us a story?"
"I wasn't planning..."
Mel began to grizzle.
"All right," Isobel hastily amended. "I'll tell you a nice story with lots of female empowerment."
Mel brightened up at once.
"Come quickly, everyone!" she called. "We're going to have a story!"
Isobel suddenly found herself very much the centre of attention.
Isobel / Narrator:
Once upon a time there was a prince who had a fiancée whom he loved very much. Once when he was sitting beside her very happily, news came that his father was deathly ill, and wanted to see him before he died.[The Prince is the Eighth Doctor. The princess is Sarah Jane Smith.]
Sarah:
That's terrible news. You must go at once.Eighth Doctor / Prince:
Here, have this ring to remember me by. And as soon as I'm king, I promise I'll come back for you.Isobel / Narrator:
Then he rode away, and when he reached his father...[The base of the radio telescope, as at the end of 'Logopolis'. The Fourth Doctor is lying there, mortally injured. The Eighth hurries up.]
Fourth Doctor / King:
My son, I wanted to see you one more time before my end. Promise me to marry the woman of my choice.Isobel / Narrator:
And he named a different princess. Of course, it was none of his business, but that's men for you.Eighth Doctor / Prince [automatically] :
Yes, dear father, your will shall be done. [He realises just what he's agreed to.] Oh b...[Fortunately he is drowned out by the Fourth Doctor's exaggerated groans.]
Isobel / Narrator:
Then the king closed his eyes and died. And good riddance.[We see the Fourth Doctor beginning to regenerate; then the scene changes to the throne room. The Eighth Doctor is sitting on the throne, a crown on his head.]
Isobel / Narrator:
After the son had been proclaimed king, and the period of mourning had passed, he had to keep the promise that he had given his father. Note, not the earlier promise he'd given to his fiancée, because he wrongly thought men were more important than womyn.
"Than what, Miss?" Baby Victoria asked.
"Womyn," Isobel repeated. "W. O. M. Y. N."
"But my governess says—"
"Never mind what your governess says. She's an outmoded relic of a male- dominated society, and you can tell her I said so."
[Rose enters and smiles winningly at the Doctor.]
Eighth Doctor / King:
So, er, how about it, then?Rose:
I thought you'd never ask! [She throws her arms round him.]Eighth Doctor / King [struggling for breath] :
OK, OK. That's it for now. You can go back home until the wedding.Isobel / Narrator:
His first fiancée heard about this, and was so saddened by his faithlessness that she nearly died.[Sarah is standing in a busy marketplace, reading a letter she has received. She mutters various imprecations and, in fury, starts pacing up and down in the middle of the road. Carts and wagons swerve to avoid her, missing her by inches.]
Isobel / Narrator:
Then her father said to her:[Sarah is standing by herself in a boudoir, still fuming.]
Isobel / Narrator:
Come on, where's her father?[Brigadier Bambera enters.]
Isobel / Narrator:
Very empowering, I'm sure, but the script calls for a father.Bambera:
Lethbridge-Stewart said he'd done too many of these already. You've got me and if you don't like it, tough.Isobel / Narrator:
Very well. Then her mother said to her:Bambera:
Dearest child, why are you so sad? You shall have whatever you want. Within reason, of course.Sarah:
Then I want eleven girls exactly like myself in appearance, figure and size.Bambera:
Oh, shame. I dread to imagine why you'd ask for something like that.Isobel / Narrator:
And she had her entire kingdom searched...[Outside the palace. A UNIT troop lorry is parked outside. Companions are climbing out, one at a time, and lining up in front of it.]
Sarah:
Right. Let's see what we've got here.[She starts walking down the line.]
Sarah: [Looks at Barbara.] Too old. [Looks at Movie-Susan.] Too young. [Looks at Romana I.] Too tall. [Looks at Zoë.] Too short. [Looks at Lucie.] Oh dear, this won't do at all. Bambera:
You're being a bit picky. There's some fine material here.Sarah:
Are you serious? I've never seen such a mismatched bunch!Bambera:
Well, see what you make of the rest.
Sarah: [Looks at Nyssa.] Too aloof. [Looks at Tegan.] Too brash. [Looks at Adric.] Too male. [Looks at Victoria.] Too feminine. [Looks at Jenny.] Too short. [She double-takes.] Just a moment. [She looks from Jenny to Zoë and back.]
There aren't nine more of you, are there?Jenny and Zoë:
No.
Sarah: Pity. We might have done something with platform boots. [Looks at Jo.] Too blonde. [Looks at Dodo.] Too thick. [Looks at Leela.] Too savage. [Looks at Peri.] Much too feminine. [Looks at Channing.] Is this supposed to be some sort of joke? Channing:
Not in the least, my dear young lady. For a suitable consideration I can provide you with as many extremely realistic auton replicas as you need.[Sarah looks at him, then along the row. The next candidate is Mel, who gives her a hopeful smile.]
Sarah [to Channing] :
You've got a deal.Isobel / Narrator:
When they came to the princess, she had twelve huntsmen's outfits made, each one like the others...[Sarah is now dressed as a huntsman, accompanied by eleven Auton replicas of her, which are about as realistic as the replica Mickey in 'Rose'.]
Isobel / Narrator:
And they rode to the court of her former fiancé.[The throne room. The Eighth Doctor is seated on the throne. Sarah and the autons enter.]
Sarah:
Afternoon squire. D'you need any huntsmen? We're huntsmen, you see, and we thought you might be willing to offer us a job.Isobel / Narrator:
He was so self-absorbed that he didn't recognise her.Eighth Doctor / King:
Huntsmen, eh? Any good?Sarah:
Give us a target and we'll prove how good we are.Eighth Doctor / King:
Guards! Bring in a target![Two guards drag in a straw archery target and set it up.]
Sarah:
Right, lads. Take that out.[The autons point at the target. Their hands swing open to reveal guns, and they blast the target to shreds.]
Eighth Doctor / King:
All right, you've got the job. And send the maid in to clean up all this straw.Isobel / Narrator:
Of course, only an oppressive chauvinist pig would think that it was automatically a woman's place to do the cleaning.[Martha enters, dressed as a maid, with a dustpan and brush.]
Martha:
Yeah. And can I point out that I'm getting typecast here?Isobel / Narrator:
Anyway, the King took them on, and then they were the king's twelve huntsmen.[Woodland. The 8th Doctor / King is present, as are Sarah and the autons. Sarah has her rifle from 'Pyramids of Mars'; the autons have their weapons armed.]
Eighth Doctor / King:
Pull![Clay pigeons start flying into the air. Sarah expertly aims and blows one up. The autons open up on the rest. Clay fragments rain down.]
Isobel / Narrator:
Now, the king had a lion that was a miraculous animal, for he knew all hidden and secret things.[A lion's cage. The 8th Doctor / King is standing outside it. Inside, Biroc is sitting at a desk, dressed rather like a bank manager.]
Biroc:
You think that you have twelve huntsmen.Eighth Doctor / King:
Yes.Biroc:
No. They're girls.Eighth Doctor / King:
I don't believe you. Prove it.Biroc:
That's easy. Just have some peas scattered on the floor. Men have a firm step, and when they walk over the peas none of them will be moved. On the other hand, girls trip and skip and shuffle their feet, rolling the peas about.Isobel / Narrator:
As you'll have realised, this lion is the most bigoted and sexist character yet. Anyway, the King liked this advice, so he obviously wasn't the brightest bulb in the box.[We see Martha scattering peas on the floor, while the Doctor looks on approvingly.]
Isobel / Narrator:
Fortunately one of the king's servants liked the huntsmen, so she tipped them off.[Sarah's room. The autons are lined up along the wall like so many dummies. Martha enters.]
Martha:
Some empowerment I'm getting here.Sarah:
Would you rather have been the rebound princess?Martha:
Point. Anyway, you're not going to believe this. The lion reckons you're all women dressed as men.Sarah:
Rubbish. What would a lion know?Martha:
Yeah, ridiculous, isn't it? Anyway, he told the king to sprinkle peas all over the floor, because men would tread on the peas but girls would trip and skip and...[Both Sarah and Martha burst out laughing.]
Sarah:
I think this lion's been smoking prohibited substances. Anyway, thanks for the tip.[Martha leaves. Sarah turns to the autons.]
Sarah:
Right, you lot. You see any peas on the floor, you tread on them. Got that?Autons:
Yes, Mistress/doxy/sweetheart/courtesan.Sarah:
Wrong meaning of 'Mistress'. Get it right next time, or else.Isobel / Narrator:
The next morning, when the king had the twelve huntsmen called before him...[The throne room. There are peas all over the floor. Sarah enters, and walks confidently over the peas. The autons follow her, see the peas, and start systematically stamping on them.]
Sarah [through gritted teeth] :
I didn't mean tread on every pea in the room...Eighth Doctor / King:
All right, you lot, get out. And send in the maid to clean the floor.[Sarah and the autons leave. Martha enters, with a mop and bucket. She looks down at the floor.]
Martha:
I'm never eating mushy peas again.Isobel / Narrator:
After they had gone, the king, being a man, looked for someone to blame. So he went to see the lion again.[The lion's cage, as hitherto.]
Eighth Doctor / King:
You lied to me. They walk just like men.Biroc:
They must have known somehow. But this one's sure to work. Just put out twelve spinning wheels. They will go up to them and admire them. No man would do that.[Dissolve to Sarah's room.]
Martha:
I don't know why I'm doing this after the mess you lot made last time, but that lion's been on the magic mushrooms again. He reckons that if the king puts spinning wheels in the chamber, no girl will be able to resist admiring them...[Sarah and Martha collapse in helpless laughter.]
Sarah [still laughing] :
What a fiendish plan! How could any woman possibly pass up a chance to admire a spinning wheel?! OK, thanks for the tip.[Martha leaves. Sarah turns to the autons.]
Sarah:
You lot. Any spinning wheels you see, ignore them. Is that clear?Autons:
Yes, Mistress/purchaser/legatee/proprietrix.Sarah [rolling her eyes] :
You lot can't even handle a thesaurus, and you think you're going to take over the world?[The throne room again. Before the king is a semicircle of spinning wheels. Sarah neatly skirts them. The autons plough through them, reducing them to matchwood.]
Eighth Doctor / King:
Get back to your hunting. And send in the maid...[Martha enters with a broom.]
Martha:
Yeah, already onto it.[The lion's cage, as hitherto.]
Eighth Doctor / King:
You lied to me. They didn't even look at the spinning wheels.Biroc:
Someone's warning them in advance what's going to happen. But listen, this one's foolproof. All you need to do is put a few dozen bottles of perfume here and there...Eighth Doctor / King:
And when they inevitably get smashed there'll be broken glass everywhere and the place will stink of cheap perfume for weeks. I've got the cleaning staff on the point of resigning as it is. Face it, you're going round the bend.Isobel / Narrator:
And after that, he finally got a clue and refused to believe the lion any more.[Woodland. A number of stuffed animals are standing in a clearing.]
Isobel / Narrator:
The twelve huntsmen always accompanied the king hunting.[The Eighth Doctor / King creeps into the clearing. Sarah and the autons follow him. He gestures at the animals, and the autons blow them to bits.]
Isobel / Narrator:
Now it happened that once when they were out hunting, news came that the king's bride was approaching. When the true bride heard this, it hurt her so much that it almost broke her heart, and she fainted and fell to the ground.[Sarah is standing among the trees with her arms folded, tapping her foot.]
Sarah:
Oh, very feminist, I don't think. I'm supposed to faint like some Victorian maiden because...[She is hit over the head with a branch, and collapses. Rose is revealed behind her, holding the branch.]
Rose:
Yeah, that's about the size of it.[She creeps off into the bushes again.]
Isobel / Narrator:
Still thinking that the huntsman was a man, and therefore worthy of consideration, the king ran up in order to help 'him'.[The Eighth Doctor / King rushes up, pulls Sarah's glove off, and sees the ring.]
Eighth Doctor / King:
My true love! Now I realise how wrong I was to jilt you. I shall marry you at once.Sarah [opening her eyes] :
What about Rose?Eighth Doctor / King:
I'll think of something.Isobel / Narrator:
He sent a messenger to the other bride and asked her, in the most insultingly patronising and chauvinistic terms, to return to her own kingdom.[The Eighth Doctor / King hands a parchment to the Ninth, who is dressed in his usual leather jacket. The Ninth Doctor waits until the Eighth has gone, and then reads it to himself.]
Ninth Doctor:
Oh, fantastic. Rose, you're gonna love this.[Rose enters.]
Rose:
What is it?Ninth Doctor:
He says go away, he's already got a wife, and someone who's found an old key doesn't need a new one.Rose:
So he's comparing women to keys? What a twit. And anyway, that analogy doesn't make any sense. You should cut a new key while you've got the old one, so you've got a spare.Ninth Doctor:
Yeah. You're well rid of him. Let's take the scenic route back, shall we?[They board his TARDIS, which dematerialises.]
Isobel / Narrator:
After this their wedding was celebrated, and the lion was accepted back into favour, because, after all, he had told the truth.[The throne room. Sarah is standing beside the Doctor, wearing a wedding dress. The autons are lined up in front of the throne.]
Sarah:
All right, you eleven can run along now.[The eleven autons turn to face her. Their hands swing open, revealing weapons.]
An auton:
Surrender or the girl will die, Doctor/sawbones/medicament/adulterate.Eighth Doctor / King:
All right. [He puts his hands up.] Just leave her alone...[The autons turn to face him. Sarah produces a super-soaker from somewhere and sprays the autons with blue liquid. They dissolve instantly.]
Sarah:
Anti-plastic. I knew they'd try something like this at some point. [She eyes his costume speculatively.] Do you know if that's natural fabric or polyester?Eighth Doctor / King [alarmed] :
I hadn't given the matter any thought.Sarah [narrowing her eyes, and aiming the super-soaker at him] :
Some experimentation may be called for.Eighth Doctor / King [hastily] :
But first, send the maid in to clean up the mess.[Martha enters, and looks down at the floor, which is awash with anti-plastic and dissolved autons.]
Martha:
That's it. I resign.Isobel / Narrator:
And the princess lived a happy and empowered life ever after.
Isobel closed the book and sat back with the satisfied feeling she always got at the end of a consciousness-raising session. It was short-lived.
"No-one got killed!" Tegan protested.
"A rifle is a coward's weapon," Leela complained. "A true hunter would not use one."
"Not enough Daleks," groused little Davros. "Dalek android replicas are much better than those silly autons."
"If the pwincess weally was good at hunting," Nyssa said, "Then she should have kept on doing it and told the king where he could stick his pwoposal."
"There should have been more funny beasties," Jamie said. "And real ones, not stuffed."
"Sarah said I was thick!" Dodo wailed.
Isobel found herself wondering if she'd have done better to stick to photography.
John Elliott