WITH PETER CUSHING AS DOCTOR WHO

IT IS THE YEAR 2150. In a run-down North London suburb, Dr Who and his granddaughter, Susan, have infiltrated Davros’ underground hideaway.

Almost breathlessly, they make their way down through a series of whispering tunnels, eerily lit by some strange green-tinged luminescence and ripe with the tang of something indescribably unearthly.

After a while, they find themselves in a well-lit, diligently sterilized corridor.

With barely a sound, something shiny and metallic glides around a corner to confront them, a red light winking frantically in its black-domed top.

DALEK: A-larm! A-larm! Two hu-mans have in-va-ded our hide-away! Ex-plain your-self el-der-ly hu-man – before I ex-ter-mi-nate you and this scan-tily clad, vo-lup-tuous young fe-male.

DR WHO: [Chin jutting indignantly]

Really! This is my fourteen year-old granddaughter, Susan and I am Doctor Who – though I sometimes double as Doctor Van Helsing. And let me remind you that I have defeated Dracula in that role! Furthermore – as Sherlock Holmes, I ended the reign of the famous Hound of the Baskervilles! Also – as Baron Von Frankenstein, I created a creature that had better speech delivery than you –

DIRECTOR: Cut! Peter, luvvy! That’s not in the script! It sounds like the history of your film career – and we do have an agreement to make this film in the spirit of the television series.

PETER: Sorry, Richard – I wasn’t sure we were actually doing a take and I’m afraid I got a little carried away.

DIRECTOR: You can say that again!

PETER: Sorry, Richard – I wasn’t sure we were actually doing a take and –

DIRECTOR: No, I didn’t mean it literally, Peter, dearie. Ooh, you are a card. All right, darlings, let’s take it from where Peter defiantly confronts the Dalek’s challenge. Ready, Peter – and roll.

DR WHO: [Chin jutting indignantly]

Really! This is my fourteen year-old granddaughter, Susan and I am Doctor Who – and may I remind you, that we are British. Furthermore –

DIRECTOR: Cut! Peter, dear! Please refrain from ad-libbing and stick strictly to the script! The bit about being British is definitely not on! It might have held sway with colonials at the height of British Empire days but not in the late twenty-second century when this story is set – especially with a Dalek, who not only doesn’t care whether you are British, German, Chinese or Martian, but probably doesn’t even know what being British means. This is a cosmopolitan sci-fi series and Doctor Who is not even from Earth – let alone British! He’s a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey who travels through time –

PETER: In a British, police telephone-box!

DIRECTOR: Which is only a front to disguise the fact that it’s really a time machine called the Tardis!

PETER: But that only makes sense if the front is changed each time the Doctor visits a different timeline! I mean, why is it still a police telephone box if he appears in a remote Welsh village in – say – seventeen-sixty, or in the court of Henry the Eighth, or in Robin Hood’s hideout in Sherwood Forest in the twelfth century? This film, by the way, is set in twenty-one, something and we don’t even have any police telephone-boxes left now, in the nineteen-sixties! And what are all those dreadful asthmatic wheezings and grinding noises each time the Tardis appears – something wrong with its gears? It’s enough to alert people to its presence – or warn them off!

DIRECTOR: Peter – some things are beyond even me. I have no idea why it always remains as a police telephone box! And I don’t care! But it would make things very complicated for our budget if it weren’t. As for the wheezing and grinding noises, they are only in the television series, not in our film – in case you hadn’t noticed, Peter.

PETER: Oh, dearie me! But I thought we we’re making this in the spirit of the television series.

DIRECTOR: [Sighs]

We are! But not with that bit! So for crying out loud, please just play it straight, Peter sweetie and forget about Sherlock Holmes and all those other quintessentially British characters. All right, luvvy?

PETER: Yes, of course, Mr Director, sir. Who do you think you are, anyway – Richard Attenborough?

DIRECTOR: Yes! Yes I do, dammit – because, hell’s bells – I am Richard Attenborough – and I didn’t go saying I was David Attenborough’s brother in Jurassic Park, now – did I – just because the part I was playing was a dinosaur nut called John Hammond? I kept strictly to the character!

PETER: Sorry, Richard. I beg your pardon. Wait a moment – I’ve never heard of that film!

DIRECTOR: That’s because it’s in the future! It hasn’t been made yet! Don’t worry about it, Peter – take that shocked look off your face. We’re all time-travellers here. All right, crew! Again from where Peter defiantly confronts the Dalek’s challenge. Ready – Doctor Who? Let’s roll!

DR WHO: [Chin jutting indignantly]

Really! This is my fourteen year-old granddaughter, Susan, and I am Doctor Who! Furthermore, as a man of good breeding – I will explain myself – after I have given you a fair chance to explain yourself, Mister stuttering Tin Can!

DALEK: What? [Black dome swivelling side to side in confusion]

SUSAN: Titter – snigger!

DR WHO: [Hands on hips. Looking distinguished and charismatic in gold silk cravat, high-collared black cape and black satin jockstrap]

Well – I am waiting!

DALEK: [Coloured lights revolving agitatedly around black dome]

Oh, ve-ry well! I am a Da-lek! The word is an a-cro-nym for – Dust-bin And La-ser En-hanced Ky-ber-noid. Our an-ces-tors were dust-bins and we were meant to be the new gen-er-ation of whee-lie bins, but Dav-ros ac-quired and aug-men-ted us. Thus we are a-ble to serve him as guar-di-ans and kill-ing ma-chines.

DIRECTOR: Cut! Ronnie, my little nymphet – you do like having fun, don’t you? Try to forget for a moment that you’re doing a television sketch with Ronnie Barker and read what’s in the script– not some parody you concocted over lunch and cocktails at the golf club. We had Dudley in the tin armour yesterday and he just buggered about, too. Let’s not have a repeat from you, luvvi!

RONNIE: I am dread-ful-ly so-rry, Ri-chard. I say, turn off this voice syn-the-si-zer some-one and un-screw this dam-ned hel-met thing. Thank you! Ah, that’s better – fresh air at last. Do please excuse my little frivolity, Richard, dearie – but it’s so hot and stuffy inside this tin can that I simply couldn’t resist it. If you’d care to take it again, I’ll give it to you straight this time.

DIRECTOR: Right oh, luvvi. That’ll be swish-oh. We’ll take it from where Doctor Who says, Well – I am waiting! Ready and – roll!

DR WHO: [Hands on hips. Looking distinguished and charismatic in gold silk cravat, high-collared black cape & black satin jockstrap]

Well – I am waiting!

DALEK: [Coloured lights revolving agitatedly around black dome]

Oh, ve-ry well! I am a Da-lek! We Da-leks are the last of an an-cient race called the Ka-leds. When the crip-pled but bri-lli-ant sci-en-tist, Dav-ros was de-fea-ted by the Thals, he re-struc-tured the last of his dy-ing peo-ple with ad-vanced cy-ber-netic engi-nee-ring, cre-a-ting a su-pe-ri-or breed of be-ings and we are the re-sult! In our en-hanced forms we will help Dav-ros to take o-ver the u-ni-verse!

DR WHO: Ah! Upgraded wheelie bins – with very pronounced speech defects! That explains why you’re so full of rubbish!

SUSAN: [Hand held to rouged lips]

Snort – guffaw.

DIRECTOR: Cut! Peter!

PETER: But that is in the script, Richard!

DIRECTOR: My goodness me – so it is! My apologies! Okay, everybody! We’ll take it again from where Suzy snorts and guffaws. Ready and – roll!

PETER: Hold on, Richard! Just what is a wheelie-bin, exactly?

DIRECTOR: It’s another term for a dustbin, but with wheels – and it’s also in the future! Not now, Peter – let’s get on, please – from where Suzy snorts and guffaws, everybody. Ready and – roll!

SUSAN: [Hand held again to rouged lips]

Snort – guffaw.

DALEK: In-sults will not harm us, pu-ny hu-man – but you will be ex-ter-mi-nated!

DR WHO: [Studying an object in his hand]

Not so fast, my undear Dalek. This here is a powerful magnet. As your mighty microchip will deduce – when I hold it out, you will – [whoosh – clang] – be attracted to it and if I turn it upside-down – [gurr-karrk-aargle] – oopsy-daisy – you will become legless – [whirr-whirr] – or should I say, wheel-less and – dearie me, quite brainless – [scrape – scrape] – as I unscrew your domey bonce – [bounce – boyoyoing] – and remove your microchip. [click]

DR WHO: That’ll teach you – you overdressed, presumptuous dustbin.

SUSAN: [Bare shoulders and cleavage-top shaking]

Giggle – gurgle – guffaw.

DR WHO: [Looks at microchip and puts it in waistcoat pocket]

Easier than emptying a dustbin and a good deal less messy. [brushes palms briskly together] Now – let’s just unscrew this snorkel-like death ray on your metal fizzog. Oh, it doesn’t work – now it’s detached. Still, I can use it as a lever, or a cosh even – if I have to. [wields it in a graceful arc and nods approvingly] Excellent! [turning to mini-skirted granddaughter and recoiling briefly at sudden whiff of strong perfume] Now take this magnet, my dear and charm and disarm any more Daleks coming this way – while I try to find a way into Davros’s control-room.

SUSAN: [Taking the magnet]

Right! Then I’ll kick the shit out of them, Granpa.

DR WHO: Susan! [A pained look of shock upon Peter Cushings’ face] My dear! Please moderate your language –

DIRECTOR: Cut! Brigitte, darling – that word is definitely not in the script!

SUSAN: What word?

DIRECTOR: Shit, darling. Shit! It’s not in the script – definitely not!

[Richard leans forward, smiling condescendingly at brigitte’ and showing two gleaming rows of menacingly clenched teeth]

Now, listen, sweetie – This is family entertainment we’re filming here – a film all the mummies and daddies can take their little kiddies to see at the local cinema. The word in the script is “hell” Not “shit” – but “hell”! Have you fucking well got that, swee-tie? A good bit of improvisation there, Peter, by the way –

PETER: But I wasn’t improvising, Richard! If you’d care to check your script, you’ll see I followed it to the letter this time – much as I’d like to take the credit for presence of mind in this case!

DIRECTOR: My word – you did, too. All right, Brigitte, honey-pie – the key word is “hell!” Now – pass the magnet back to Peter – and let’s take it from where your granpa hands you the magnet. Okay, everybody – let those cameras roll again and – action!

SUSAN: [Taking the magnet again]

Right! Then I’ll kick the – hell out of them, Granpa.

DR WHO: Susan! [a shocked look on his face] My dear! Please moderate your language. Let us remember Who we are and what we stand for – and not descend into such savage barbarism so easily.

SUSAN: Sorry, Granpa. Only joking [Eyeing the detached death ray in the Doctor’s hand] But it does seem like double standards to me – and hardly fair! I mean, aren’t you going to smash the living daylights out of Davros with that thing?

DR WHO: Good heavens! If there is any other way, you know very well, I will not hesitate –

SUSAN: What are you going to do, then, Granpa – try and convince him of the error of his ways by reasonable debate, over a nice cozy pot of tea and bikkies?

DR WHO: Susan! Such cynicism! We are wasting valuable time!

[A deep rumbling sound interrupts them as a heavy door in the wall to one side slides open – and out rolls Davros, surrounded by a wheeling flotilla of gleaming Daleks, all screaming in unison: exterminate]

DAVROS: [Lifting a hand to silence the Daleks]

Ah! Doctor Who, I presume – in your imposing Peter Cushing incarnation – how very dashing –

DIRECTOR: Cut! Goodness me! John, luvvy! You’re Davros – an evil being, half machine – half goodness knows what – from the planet something-or-other on the dark side of goodness-knows-where – not John Hurt in piles of make-up and prosthetics – having a touch of matinee badinage with your peers! Now, you played it wonderfully in Alien, as the crewman who had his belly ripped open from the inside – and you were an absolute hoot as John Merrick, the Elephant Man. Do please stick to the script, Johnny, luv – there’s a dearie darling little dear!

JOHN: Oh, I’m sorry – Dickie, ducky. From now on I’m strictly Davros, the resuscitated demon spastic from elsewhere – in a technophile’s super-duper, mobile dentist’s chair.

Ah – by the way, Peter, my script notes say that you are actually a HUMAN whose surname is WHO in this film.

DR WHO: Oh! So we are NOT making this film in the spirit of the TV series, after all then. There you are, Richard – I am BRITISH after all!

DIRECTOR: [staring at his script and looking dumbfounded]

Wha – at?

[mutters agitatedly to himself, fuming and puffing his cheeks out]

JOHN: Never mind Dickie. We must obey the script now – mustn’t we? Why don’t we just pick up from there and let the cameras roll luvvy-wuvvy?

DIRECTOR: Er – Hmm. Okay, Johnny, baby – and straighten up that third eye, will you? It’s supposed to be in the middle of your forehead – not skew-whiff over one eyebrow! Barbara, darling – will you come and sort out Johnny’s third eye, dearie? Oh, that’s absolutely brill! Thank you, gorgeous! Right! We’ll take it from where Davros lifts his hand to silence the Daleks. Ready cameras – and roll!

DAVROS: [once more lifting a hand to silence the Daleks]

Ah! Doctor Who, I presume – and some young tart! My, word! You’re becoming whimsical in your dotage, Doctor – and wielding a deactivated death ray, too! Tut–tut-tut! Well! You’ve delivered yourself straight into the lion’s den this time – Time Lord! You are going to be robotized!

DALEKS: [surrounding Doctor Who and Susan]

Ro – bot – tized! Ro – bot – tized! You will – be – ro – bot – tized. Take them a – way to the – booths!

DAVROS: Heh-heh-heh – Heh-heh-heh – Heh-heh-heh – Ah – Hah-hah-hah – Oh – Hoh–hoh-hoh – Ah –

[The scene is suddenly replaced by a long whirling tunnel of shimmering coloured patterns, radiating outward from a point far off in the distance]

– melodramatic synthesized theme music accompanies the spiralling backdrop –

– oo–oo–oo wow oo–oo–oo wow
da dum da-da-da dum da dum da-da-da dum
fffwhishhh whheee whooshh – flange – flange – flange
shhoo–oo-oo wah–ah–ahh shoo–oo–oo wah-wah-wah
shh ffizz zizzizzizzizz oo–oo–oo wow-whistle–hum–howl–rumble
crackle–pop–splutter–wail–hisss dum da-da-da dum da-da-dum da–da- dum whoooshh wheee whizzzz fffwowww –

DIRECTOR: Cut! What idiot shoved that lot of tee-vee bubblegum shite in at the end of our scene? Cut it out and replace it with the incidental mock-classical music we had composed for the film! Phew!

PETER: Spirit of the television series, eh, Richard? Seems to me that phrase is an incredibly flexible one in this production.

DIRECTOR: Within certain acceptable parameters, Peter – such as a semblance of reasonable taste!

PETER: Taste? What’s that got to do with it? I don’t recall any film called, Alien, either!

DIRECTOR: For a Time Lord, you’re the least time-travelled among us, Peter!

* * * * * * * * *

Dave Draper 2004

Updated 2016