The Saviour Speaks

Alright?

You know who I am? Yup, I'm him: the bloke who saved Doctor Who.

Look at these other versions of me, sat around in their fookin' fancy dress. I tell ya, I wanna jus' giv' 'em a slap. That one in the scarf? Slap. That ponce in the cricket PJs? Slap. The ol' fella in the bow tie and the smokin' jacket? A double slap. Listen to 'em when they open their gobs, lah de da, la de dah! How are you meant to believe this bunch of RP meths could stand up to Cybermen and Daleks? I mean, get real! You don't save the Universe wearin' a fookin' cravat!

Let's be honest, everyone had forgotten about me. I was a fond memory, and an endless array of jokes about wobbly sets, crappy monsters, and Daleks not being able to go up stairs. I was totally in the past, a has-been, a never-again. I mean, my eighth incarnation had one adventure! One! No one apart from blokes called Clive gave a toss. It was embarrassin'.

And then I came along, and made everyone love me again. And I didn't do it by wearin' fookin' question marks, or by having a comedy hat, or by speakin' like Prince Charles. No, I kept it real, in me leather jacket, bovver boots and buzz cut. When the evils of the Universe saw me comin' they thought: "I ain't fookin' messin' wi' him!" And they'd be right. C'ere Davros, Slap! Oi, Slitheen, Slap! The Master? I'll slap that girly little goatee into next fookin' week! Seeing my simple silhouette advancing along a corridor would even make a Sontaran mess itself.

Ya don't save the fookin' Universe dressed like this!

When I was the Doctor, it meant somethin', my adventures meant somethin'. It wasn't just space stuff, it was drama, mate, proper drama! You think we went to Downin' Street and fought fartin' aliens! But really we were making a comment on the War in Iraq. Do you see? It was subtle: you might've missed it. They said there were alien weapons that could destroy earth in 45 minutes. D'ya see now? That's cutting edge social commentary. This is edgy, this is gritty, this is current; this is fookin' Art!

In another one we commented on the meedja. All news was contolled by an alien, drip feeding it to the masses. Bitin' satire, that was. I'd like to see them others doing that. What about that one with the Dalek? I did some proper drama in that! Should've won an award, or somethin'. I was fookin' emoting my arse off in that one. Did'ya see it? That was commenting on the effects of war an' stuff. Me and the Dalek had been traumatised by the fookin' Time Wor. That's real drama, not runnin' around on spacestations...well, I did run around on spacestations, but in a proper dramatic way. I may have been runnin' around a corridor, but if you look at my face, you can see I'm thinking about the Time Wor, in a proper dramtic way. It's like fookin' Shakespeare.

My adventures were like this, only without the cissy crown and gowns bollocks.

But it all turned sour. I had a little peek into my future and saw that I was lined up to fight robot santas on Christmas day, and meet cat nurses. Where's the gritty realism in that? I can't be doin' edgy drama, where I kiss a guy one week and then be poncin' around fighin' fookin' santa the next! It's demeaning. I'm the saviour of Doctor Who, and this is how they treat me, so I thought, Sod this, and regenerated. Now I'm back in a bow tie and mincin' about the TARDIS like one of the judges from Strictly Come Dancin' and I don't mean Len. So much for proper gritty, edgy fookin' drama!

Keep it real,

THE DOCTOR