TARDIS Party

 

Now then, I think we all know what I have to say?

I’ve been away for about a week now and I left the keys in the door for everyone to make use of the TARDIS, because I’m not one to claim some philosophical concept of ownership over a vessel that combines time and relative dimensions in space as a de facto law. But there comes a point when liberties are taken; and liberties have.

We invested trust in you to look after the TARDIS and you promised us that you wouldn’t be using it to simply hare about the universe and almost certainly having fun. And yet on the morning of our return we find what can only be described as a half arsed attempt to clear up. It’s obvious, and please show me the respect of not treating me like a fool, that you’ve been having a party when we expressively forbade you to do so.

This TT Type 40 Mark 3 vessel, as we’ve already discussed, is never to be taken to either building sites, or music festivals. People think it’s a portaloo. But a portaloo would be a welcome result compared to what sits there, even now, for all to see. It’s bad enough that policemen though well equipped with modern radios feel the need to try the door and scratch their heads at its appearance, but to have them come round at 3am in the morning because of all the noise is frankly beyond a joke. Oh, you may snigger – and that is not permission to do so, but when I find the singularity of an artificial black hole has not been used to create the eye or harmony but a platform for your avowed (and so far unsuccessful) ambition to become a banging DJ I have to ask myself, are you really old enough to be entrusted with the last of the TARDIS to yet roam the universe? I think the answer is no.

They don’t grow on trees you know. No, they are grown from a particular coral only found on Gallifrey. Is it acceptable can I ask you to find the Zeiton 7 turned into some sort of ‘bong’? Is the Huon energy really best used only to throw dazzling shapes upon the wall? And most upsetting of all, is the Trachoid Time Crystal really something best served by being used by Richard O’Brien as a minor reward for flustered housewives and frustrated IT engineers seeking to gain more time in which to sort gold foil from silver after a series of moribund tasks involving for the most part, balsa wood?

It was most upsetting to be contacted yesterday evening by the Shadow Proclamation informing us that our TARDIS had been found, on its side, on the hard shoulder of the M3.

Now you go to your room and think very hard about your actions in the last week. We are very disappointed with you. Very. I think for the foreseeable future it would be best if you stopped bringing girls around. They’re all far too young for you. The TARDIS is meant to appear in fondly remembered science-fiction programmes produced by the BBC. And not as it seems nowadays, to an integral part in what I can only assume now to be Hollioaks.

If the world calls needing saving again it will just have to do without you for a bit.

Now I have some sonic screws that need attending to, I hope my screwdriver is in the toolbox where I left it?