TTR: The Topys of Domo
Warning: SPOILERS for End of Time Part 1 & 2. This isn’t really a
comment or even a parody. Mere random silliness, inspired by
Clocketpatch’s lovely typo in her LJ review.
Any mistakes are obviously, in the context of the story, completely
Ten breezed into the Round, whistling to himself.
“You seem cheerful for someone who’s about to bite the dust,” said
Benny, taking a seat next to him. “No last minute nerves?”
He thought about it. “Well, the Master’s been gloating about stuff
for days, but that’s nothing new, is it? I’m quite looking forward to
it. I mean, as it is, I have to go off all on my own, all angsty and
whatever, while Nine and Handy swan around here with Rose. Bit naff,
“Well,” said Benny, raising her eyebrows, “there’s always fanfic. The
things you two get up to in those stories, I tell you -. Ace and I
were having a good laugh only the other day about that one where -.”
He drew back. “Can we *not* talk about the fanfic?”
The Simm Master pulled up a third stool, on the other side of the
Doctor. “Hello there, gorgeous. Looking forward to our date, were
“Benny,” said Ten. “Can I have what you’re drinking? I don’t think
ginger beer is going to hack it this time.”
The Master grinned. “Oh, trust me, I wasn’t any happier about it than
you. Well, except for -.”
Ten put his hands to his ears. “No spoilers, okay!”
“Hmm,” said Benny, nodding behind him as a silent visitor appeared by
the First Doctor’s table. “An Ood. Wonder what he wants, eh,
Ten swallowed and moved forward.
The Ood said, “We are sorry, Doctor. There has been a terrible
mistake. We are sorry.”
“What?” he said. “And where’s Ood Sigma?”
“We will explain. Read this.”
He passed Ten a sheet of paper and they both vanished.
Somewhere in a snowy landscape, Ten choked. “What? WHAT? *WHAT*?”
The script in his hands that melted away in the light had read:
THE END OF TIM
Benny glared at the Simm Master. “All right, what have you done this
“Me?” he said, miming innocence, pointing his fingers towards himself
and waving a bundle of papers around. “I didn’t do this. An early
draft has escaped onto the internet. It has typos.”
She snatched them from him and read them in dawning horror. “The End
of Tim? Who the hell is Tim?”
“Tim himself is ending,” continued the Ood.
Ten paused. “*Tim*? Who’s Tim? And where’s Ood Sigma, anyway?”
“He is now known as Odd Sigma and chooses to hide himself. We are
sorry, Doctor. Tim is ending.”
“Tim,” mused the Doctor, walking back to the TARDIS. “Tim… Let me
think: do I even know any Tims? There’s Timmy the dog, I suppose, but
that’d be ridiculous.”
“Typos?” said Benny. “Dear goddess, who knows what a hasty typist
might make of Gallifrey, Rassilon and regeneration.”
He chucked. “Or the Master for that matter.”
“Well,” said Benny, “I think you’ve pretty much exhausted the
possibilities there, haven’t you?”
He folded his arms and sulked. “I never did. That was the cryptic
crossword duo over there.” He nodded towards the Ainley Master and
the Delgado Master who were sitting a table pointedly ignoring each
“Anyway, we need to help him,” she said. “No one deserves to be
trapped in an ungrammatical first draft, however self-pitying they may
“You’ve noticed that too?”
“Oh, shut up.”
The TARDIS landed and the Doctor stepped out cautiously. An early
draft, he thought. Never meant to see the light of day. Who knew
what disastrous or comical spelling mistakes or grammatical errors he
It dawned on him that he had something unusual around his shoulders,
and once he’d offloaded the disgruntled brown goat, he set off.
“Sounds as though you could use my help,” said Thursday Next, walking
across to Benny.
She said, “I don’t think there’s anything sinister about this. Just
bad typing. I mean, look.”
“True,” she said, examining the script. “However, I do have some
expertise when it comes to extracting characters from their stories.”
The Brigadier glanced at her. “I’m sure you do, miss, but this -.”
“She took Jane from *Jane Eyre*,” murmured Benny. “No patronising
He said, “Nonetheless, rescuing the Doctor is my job. And I notice
here there’s a mention of two soldiers. It doesn’t say anything about
them not being well-known UNIT soldiers. Benton and I are going in.”
“Good thinking,” said Benny. “I’m going to peek ahead, see what
horrors await if you don’t succeed.”
Thursday coughed. “Actually, that’s not how it was -.”
Ten surveyed the group of old age pensioners hopefully. “Now, are any
of you called Tim by any chance?”
“Doctor,” said an unexpected voice from behind him, as two soldiers
arrived at the wasteland.
“Well, I was only trying to help, Doctor,” said the Brigadier moments
He glared at him. “There was no call to order Benton to do that!”
“I said fire at *will*,” he told him. “Or, at least, I certainly
Benton was trying not to be there. “Well, you *said* ‘Fire at Wilf’,
On the ground, Wilf whimpered, and the Doctor knelt down.
“Just you leave me here, Doctor,” he said. “You go and find Donna and
this Tim bloke. I’ll be all right; it’s only one of my vital organs
punctured and a few pints of blood lost. Don’t you worry about me.”
Ten said, “Brigadier, you and Benton get Wilf to hospital. I’m going
to find Tim if it kills me.”
“Isn’t that rather the point, Doctor?”
He shrugged. “Right now, for all I know, this might turn out to be my
dehat, so let’s not worry. However, the Ood said Tim was ending and
that doesn’t sound good for Tim, I can tell you. Now, get Wilf out of
here, before Benton’s a murderer all over again.”
The Doctor nodded. “Well, I know nothing was ever proven, but have
you seen The Ambassadors of DEATH?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Benton coughed. “The Doctor’s right – better get the poor old fellow
out of here, sir.”
“That went well,” said Benny. “Congratulations, Brigadier!”
Ace had joined them. “Look, this is nothing a can of nitro 9 couldn’t
“We could try burning the script,” suggested the Delgado Master.
As ever, this was dismissed as an evil plot.
“Look,” said Ace, “I go in there, blow everything sky high, including
Tim. Problem solved, right? I mean, the Doctor’s got other places he
needs to be today.”
The Simm Master gave another grin.
“Oh, shut up,” said Benny, before he could open his mouth. “Ace, that
is a spectacularly bad idea and I think we all know that. So, what
the hell: why not?”
After all, she thought, any minute now, the other Doctors would get
wind of this, and then they’d probably start trying to correct the
script or write in new sections and it’d be worse than her diary. She
wasn’t even sure the spelling would be any better.
The motorbike skidded to a halt in the middle of the great hall.
“What’s going on, Doc?” said Ace, hopping off, and over to him.
He said, “Mmph.”
She removed the gag.
“Well,” he said, “I dunno. There’s some sort of giant healing agate
over there and I’ve just been tied up and gloated at by some bloke
called Mestar who actually isn’t the Master in disguise, which is a
first, so blow me if I know. I still haven’t met anyone called Tim,
She said in a loud whisper, “Right, then, I’m going to blow the whole
place to kingdom come and that’ll be the end of it.”
“Can you do that?”
“Try stopping me!”
At that moment, everyone else turned into Mestar, Ace included.
“Nice try,” said the Doctor, to be fair. He had to admit he was
getting a very bad feeling about this.
“That was well weird,” said Ace, on returning to the Round. “Anyone
else want to have a go?”
Benny paused. “Yes, because we haven’t demonstrated our combined
incompetence sufficiently yet this evening.”
“I daresay I could find some solution,” offered the original Master.
“After all, it would be perfectly logical to assume this Mestar
actually will turn out to be me. Therefore -.”
Three, who had arrived by now, rounded on him. “Yes? And what would
you do then? This is probably all your doing in the first place!
What fiendish plot did you have in mind?”
“My dear Doctor,” said his arch enemy, after paling slightly, “I
treasure your high opinion of me, but do you really suppose me capable
of writing anything this illiterate and incoherent?”
He coughed. “No. Sorry, old fellow.”
“Besides,” added Benny, “if he had, it’d have ‘BY COLONEL WILKIE
CHARLES THACKERAY MAGISTER on the title page, or something equally
obvious. Does anyone else have any ideas?”
Three leant back in his chair. “Yes. You see, I thought -.”
“No,” said everyone else as one.
Jo patted his arm. “Not the Venusian aikido, Doctor. Not today.”
“I was only going to suggest that we reversed the polarity of the
neutron flow, thereby restoring the humans to their original selves
“What say you to a sonnet?” offered Will Shakespeare. “It could offer
the good Doctor a brief respite.”
“Well, you’d better hurry,” said Benny, “because Raddilob, Precedent
of the Timw Lors is about to turn up and I’d imagine he’s not going to
be in a good mood with that sort of spelling flying about.”
“So, Doctro,” growled Raddilob. “We meet again!”
He thought about thought, screwing his face up. “Again? Because I
don’t remember a Raddilob, and you’d think I would. Your first name’s
not Tim, is it? If it is, I need to tell you that this might not be
“You lie there, broken -.”
The Doctor picked himself up and brushed the green strands from his
clothes. “Yeah, off that, isn’t it, falling right throw a window and
winding up covered in grass. Only goes to show what an odd place the
universe is. Now, where were we?”
“Doctor, you try my patients.”
“Yes. In fact, so much so, I am… feeling the sudden need to spout
“I’m sorry?” said Ten.
“From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die…”
He said, “Look, I only asked if you knew anyone called Tim who might
be in trouble. There’s no need to go on about my old girlfriends. Or
death for that matter. Sensitive subject right now. Honestly.”
“Oh, all right,” said Benny. “I suppose I’m the one who’s always
rewriting things. I’d better go in. I’ll just stick a post-it note
or two here and – wait a minute. That’s odd.”
“What is it?” asked Ace.
She turned the last sheet over. “I don’t think the writer actually
got to the end of this draft…”
As Ten was about to ask Raddilob yet again if he knew anyone called
Tim, the world went black briefly and he found himself back in the
“It was not yet finished,” said the Ood. “We are sorry.”
Ten stared back at him. “What? Not *finished*? You mean… I’m going
to DIE and I’m never even going to know who Tim was? Well, that’s not
He found, as he spoke, that even the snow had faded away and he was
back in the Round, lying on the floor, in the centre of an interested
“Never mind,” said the Simm Master with a grin. “You wait till
later. You’ll have a few billion of me to cheer you up. It’s gonna
He looked at Benny.
“I can’t help,” she said. “I know I’ve got a reputation to keep up,
but this is lemonade. Go on. It won’t kill you. Well, oops.
Sorry. It will, but hey, you won’t have to deal with the return of
The Master smirked.
“As for you,” said Benny, getting to her feet, “I see your destiny
His smile grew.
“Yes,” she finished. “A big fat PLOT hole is going to swallow you.
Could take *years* before they fish you out again.”
The Doctor was paying little attention to Professor Summerfield’s
quashing of the Master. It was bad enough as it was, he thought, and
now he’d been *spoilered* on top of everything else.
Ten exited the Round in a black mood, ready to meet his fate.
Thursday Next belongs to Jasper fforde
Doctor Who etc to BBC, BBC Wales & BBC Worldwide.
Benny to Virgin and Big Finish.
For the rest, I blame Clocketpatch. ;-)