The Mysterious Affair of Writing Styles
"Not a chance!" insisted Donna Noble.
"Oh, come on. It fits perfectly!"
"Yeah, *too* perfectly. It's just *obvious*. Besides, I've seen what
happens to people who babysit at that place, and I'm not going anywhere
"But John and VJ have been doing big Storytime stories, and I'm falling
"I don't care. You can find some other mug to read them; this isn't
Daibhid turned to Tenth, "Doctor?"
"Mmm, Donna's right, Daihb. It *is* a bit obvious."
"Okay, fine." Daibhid drained his Irn Bru and stood up. "I shall take my
copy of 'Roger Ackroyd' and depart..."
So I looked, and behold, a pale horse.
And the name of him who sat on it was Death.
And the name of the horse was Binky.