The Wrong Side of Bed

"A birthday present? For me?" The Doctor beamed at his first self.
"Yes, yes, yes, young man. Well, I know how fond you were of running around with him, so, you see, well," he indicated the android, still dripping blue paint from its freshly-applied naval uniform. The 4th Doctor waved an arm, almost lost for words,
"Well, he's the only one who could keep pace. Total idiot, mind you, but once he got his head round a problem, Harry'd get there."
"Hmm, well, you can er, that is you can do it all again." The 5th Doctor then leaned close and muttered, raising a quizzical eyebrow,
"You'll need to keep a bit of an eye. Its Genuine Person Personality keeps switching to that Blofeld chap. Interesting, really."
"Oh, you dear old thing," the android chuckled deeply. The young Doctor gave a brief smile and turned to the automaton, yelling in its face,
"That was never a fucking outside-edge, you pompous tossbag!" he paused, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets,
"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."