I Have Feelings, You Know!

Greetings. I am known as the Doctor.

Let's get a few things straight. Firstly, I've heard them all before, so don't bother. Yes, My outfit is ridiculous; yes, I am slightly more rotund that the average Doctor; yes, I was not everyone's cup of tea; and yes, I regenerated by falling over onto my own TARDIS floor. So, go on, say your worst; it can't be worse than what I've already heard in here.

I reside, in this Retirement Home for Ex-Doctors, with nine versions of myself. That's odd in itself, but at least you'd think I'd get some sympathy, but no, they all take the piss out of me. I had such high hopes, you know. I came bursting into existance, once Perfect Peter had sacrificed himself to save Peri, full of vim and vigour. I had such plans! No more Mr Sweet, with his manners and his stiff upper lip. I felt released, unchained, ready to do battle with whatever evils the Universe had to offer. I had curly hair again (I love curly hair) and could feel a bit more package in the old trouser department. Things were certainly looking up.

But I never had ANY luck. Has there been an unluckier Doctor than me? Has there?? HAS THERE?!? First I get Post Regenerative Trauma, which had a few unfortunate side effects, such as me attempting to murder my companion. Didn't really start off things well, did it? It also gave me unpredictable mood swings, you know, impulsive one minute, cowardly the next. It was almost as if there was someone up there writing my life and they really didn't like me much. I mean, what possessed me to pick this outfit? It is bloody awful. No one in the Universe would take this outfit seriously. Even Timmy Mallet wouldn't have worn it. One Dalek laughed so hard he exploded. The Master was always teasing me, and he had a goatee and wore velvet. Why didn't I just put on the old ruffled shirt and smoking jacket? A classic look. It would have made such a difference.

I had no luck with my companions either. Peri? Peri?? PERI?!? What a pain in the arse. Moan, moan, moan. If she wasn't having any fun why didn't she go home? I'd have gladly taken her. Why did Nutty Tom get Sarah Jane? I'd have killed for a Sarah Jane (not literally - I told you, that was Post Regenerative Trauma!), or even a Leela. Jamie would have been good. I met him, during that Sontaran affair. Should have asked my Second self if he'd fancied a trade.



What a surprise - she's moaning again.

 I was also pretty unlucky in some of my adventures. Yes, I fought Cybermen, Sontarans, Daleks and the Master but I kept feeling I'd kind of done it before. I'd throw myself into things, with a breezy air, but I don't remember it being much fun; it all seemed a bit violent and nasty at times. I ended up in some dodgy places too: the ice tombs of Telos, the prison planet Varos, a funeral parlour, the North; not the most desirable locations. Where was the glamour? Where was the wonder? And next to me, endlessly moaning and whinging, was Peri. Maybe I should have just strangled her in the first place.

I got quite down actually, and took a few months off, you know, to recharge and rethink things. I took to comfort eating, putting away two tubs of Ben and Jerry's in a sitting. I pretended things were fine, but I felt lost; I felt as if I wasn't fulfilling my potential. I truly believed I could be the best of the Doctors, the brightest, the most memorable. I planned to travel for years, yet something, I don't know what, was holding me back. My adventures seemed much less violent, and more than a little silly.

What AM I doing??

Then the Time Lords placed me on trial. On trial? ON TRIAL?!? Talk about bad luck! Who'd have thought, after being put on trial when I was Doctor Pat, that lightning would strike twice? My whole life seemed to be one long Deja Vu! I lost Peri and picked up that crazy ginger fitness fanatic, Mel Bush. (Mel Bush? If you had that last name, wouldn't you change it?) I ran around, doing my bit, but to be honest, I didn't really understand what was going on. The Master was up to something and then my Prosecutor, the Valeyard, turned out to be an evil future alternative version of me! I know! it's crazy! (He's probably in here somewhere, I mean, he is technically a Doctor.) Then I left with Mel before I'd even met her. Bonkers. I once tried to get the later Doctors (apart from the knome - he's in the psych ward) to explain it to me. They just looked at me, shrugged and laughed at my jacket.

Ha! I'm the only one man enough to grow a beard!

But I have feelings you know. I may seem arrogant and rude and repeat things in an increasingly louder voice but it's just insecurity. I just want to be loved; I just want to be accepted. To be honest, I tend to stay away from the other Time Lords. I wander into the other wing sometimes and mingle with some non Time Lord Doctors. There's a nice chap from the 23rd century, Dr McCoy, who plays some Scrabble with me, now and again. To him, my outfit is pretty tame by 23rd century standards. Primary colours were in then, apparently. Dr Watson seems nice, if a little serious.

Just remember this: I tried my best. No one wanted to be a better Doctor Who than me, you know. So think of that before you call me a colour blind lard bucket.