Dr U Who

By Darren Bane

In 2005, television's most famous time traveller made a triumphant return to the Saturday night schedules, and began a journey which saw him achieve huge worldwide success and popularity. Times have never been so good.

But it wasn't always this way. Between 1989 and 2005, the "wilderness years", the future of the beloved medically-monikered maverick was far from safe.

So what happened to prompt the mighty BBC to finally return our intergalactic hero to prime time television? This affectionate parody of one of the longest-running television series in history finally answers one of its greatest mysteries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326604585

Book preview

Dr U Who

Dr U Who

Darren Bane

db

books

2016

Darren Bane was born at a very early age and has persistently refused to grow up ever since.

His earliest memory of watching the BBC television programme Doctor Who was of seeing the third Doctor, played by Jon Pertwee, fighting the Sontaran Lynx in The Time Warrior. He soon became an avid fan of the programme.

Darren Bane is an award-winning communications professional; he is married, with one son, and has not yet lived in the south west of England all his life.

Reviews for Dr U Who – A Parody

Dr U Who was first published on Amazon Kindle in July 2014, before the author discovered Lulu.com, and the means to make it much more widely available, including in hard-copy form. But during its short original time in the Amazon   Kindle Store, it was downloaded more than 200 times, and earned several positive reviews, including:

The best Doctor Who parody…great satire humour…it’s a funny story.

Fantastic! Particularly amused by the author’s take on the Cybermen. His love for and knowledge of the franchise shines through in an affectionate parody.

Great fun! I’m not really a Dr Who fan but this is triggering childhood memories and is inspiring me to watch it more.

Must read! A must for all fans! Great yarn. This guy sure loves his puns. Quite a giggle.

A right riveting read, this is a fun trip back down memory lane and was clearly written by a true fan of Dr Who!

Dr Who fans will love it…well written, affectionate Dr Who parody. The author has a nice way with words, making this an easy read.

Copyright © 2016 Darren Bane.

All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

This book is not, in any way, officially licensed, authorised or endorsed by the British Broadcasting Corporation, any of its associates or affiliates, or any individual or organisation connected with the BBC television programme Doctor Who. No deliberate attempt has been made to infringe any copyright in any way and no claim of ownership was intended in creating this affectionate, tongue-in-cheek, parody.

First Published on Kindle in July 2014

Second, revised, edition published in hard copy in October 2014

Ebook edition published November 2014

All editions published under name of Darren M Bane.

First edition under the name Darren Bane published April 2016.

ISBN: 978-1-326-60458-5

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[e-mail]

www.darrenbane.co.uk

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For Whovians everywhere, everywhen.

Also for ‘Bunny’; you never got to hold a copy of a book written by me in your hand, but you, more than anyone else, first nurtured and encouraged my love of books and my literary aspirations.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank my family and everyone else who have endured my many ramblings about how I dream of holding in my hand a book I’ve written without paying an absolute fortune, that I don’t have, for the privilege; particular thanks to Mrs B for her support and patience when I go into writing mode and shut myself away in the computer room for hours on end. Grateful thanks also to Kate S at Lulu.com, for her patience and rapid responses to my numerous and persistent queries during the production of this book, and for empowering me to make my dream come true. Thank you all.

Proepilogue

(…a cross between a prologue and an epilogue, as this story starts at the end, chronologically speaking or, to put it a little more philosophically, what goes around comes around, in a wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, kind of way.)

ONCE upon a time to come, as all good stories start; that is to say, a long time ago in the far distant future, there lived, lives or will live, depending on your temporal perspective, a tenacious time traveller named Dr U Who, a man not of this race, not of this Earth, but a runaway Time Lad from a planet long since lost.

Of course, depending on your own biological, evolutionary, philosophical and theological beliefs around what constitutes a true, conscious, corporeal, existence, there might never have lived, is living, or will live, such a life form, if, indeed, you would even recognise him as a sentient life form. But, for the sake of argument, let’s put any personal prejudices, beliefs and/or knowledge, aside and simply assume that, at one point or another in eternity, and quite possibly at several points all at once, he did, does and/or will exist, otherwise we’re done already.

Our story begins in August 2014 on the runway of Heathrow Airport, London, England, Earth, Milky Way, etc. Dr U Who had temporarily abandoned his trusty (???) timeship in favour of more traditional transportation, and was about to set off on the biggest ever promotional tour since he first arrived on our tiny little planet in 1963.

The meddlesome, medically-monikered, maverick was off to visit Seoul, Sydney, New York, Mexico City and Rio de Janeiro on a tour to acknowledge the fact that he had finally succeeded in doing something he had spent the past five decades fighting against; alien domination over our primitive little planet.

Standing at the side of the runway, ready to wave him off, was the mighty media matriarch known as Auntie Beeb, together with a pack of journalists, including as many national newspaper hacks and mainstream movie magazine scribes as representatives from specialist science-fiction and other fringe publications; another sign of how Dr U Who was now a national treasure, almost universally loved. It was now cool to say you were a fan of Dr U Who. Anoraks are cool!

Auntie Beeb wiped a tear from her eye as the plane taxied along the runway.

A world tour, she said, who’d have thought it.

Who, indeed, said the nearest journalist. Um, Auntie Beeb? he asked, awkwardly.

She turned. Yes?

I, um, well, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Just one question. But it’s the last question, the big, unanswered, question.

I remember you, said Auntie Beeb, warily. You were at the anniversary do last year, weren’t you? You started pestering me after that heckler shouted out.

The journalist looked a little embarrassed. Auntie Beeb was, of course, right. In November 2013, London’s Excel International Exhibition Centre hosted a huge 50th anniversary celebration. Auntie Beeb was there, of course, together with her nerdy nephew Norton, a computer whizz-kid and long-term fan of Dr U Who.

It had been his nagging voice which had persuaded her not to axe Dr U Who altogether, way back in 1989.

Also at the celebration was the current sci-fi showrunner, Grand Moff Tartan, and RTD, too (that’s a little pun for any Star Wars fans among you, although RTD was only actually there in spirit in the end. But hey, any excuse for a decent pun).

Dr U Who was a different man back then, of course, quite literally. But more of that later. As the anniversary hour approached, he twiddled his bow tie, smiled, and said, I love anniversaries, now. Anniversaries are cool.

Auntie Beeb then got to her feet. It’s almost time, she said, smiling knowingly, but the moment has been prepared for.

As the large digital clock on the wall flickered to reveal that the time was sixteen minutes past five in the afternoon, Auntie Beeb started singing.

Happy Birthday to Who…

Me!

Happy Birthday to Who!

ME!

Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday to Who!

ME! And me, and me, plus eight more me’s, or a few more, if you count Cushing, Hurndall, Hurt and a few others.

Rapturous applause echoed around the room as the guest of honour rose from his chair, a beaming smile on his face.

A heckler then shouted from the crowd, It’s much better than the non-event that your 40th anniversary was!

The journalist then jumped up as the heckler skulked away into the shadows. She’s right, said the hack, a decade ago, things were very different.

Someone else on the head table, sitting near Auntie Beeb and Norton, retorted angrily, Let’s not dwell on the past, shall we? Let’s think about the future!

Auntie Beeb gestured for this new voice not to rise to the bait of the heckler. She smiled, and said, Don’t worry, Peter, you’ll be in the thick of it soon enough.

I’ve already been in the Thick Of It, you *&^%$*&%&%ker, I’m talking about when I become Who.

ME! laughed Dr U Who, and the jovial mood was restored, and the celebrations continued.

November rolled into December 2013, and Dr U Who’s world domination was confirmed. His 50th anniversary adventure had been broadcast simultaneously in nearly 100 countries in over 1,500 movie theatres, setting a new world record for event cinema in the first three days on general release.

Then came Christmas; a whole generation of children had grown up with Dr U Who being an integral part of their seasonal holiday routine. This Christmas was particularly poignant, riding on the back of the 50th anniversary, and laying firm foundations for the future, the next 50 years, heralding the dawn of an epic new era.

As the plane carrying Dr U Who around the world disappeared into the distance, Auntie Beeb looked the heckling hack in the eye, and said, So, what is this burning question?

The journalist shuffled awkwardly, and then found the courage to seize his chance. Well, he said, his voice shaky. None of us could possibly deny Dr U Who’s world dominance today. But what I said back in November was right. The 40th anniversary was a non-event, wasn’t it? Things were very different.

It was Auntie Beeb’s turn to feel awkward.

The journalist continued; It’s not as if Dr U Who has enjoyed prime time for 50 continuous years, is it? There was quite a period where he didn’t enjoy any significant time at all.

Auntie Beeb blushed and lowered her head, but then quickly regained her composure. Well, she said, as you all now know, Dr U Who did go through a lot of Hurt during those wilderness years.

We’re not complaining, said the journalist. These truly are halcyon days. But ten years ago, what new adventure did we have? An internet cartoon? And you, Auntie Beeb, were keeping Dr U Who at a distance.

Auntie Beeb opened her mouth, as if to reply, but was unable to find the words.

The journalist went on. "All we want to know is what really happened to make you change your mind, and bring Dr U Who back to prime time?"

Auntie Beeb was silent for a moment, but then she lifted her head, and she was smiling widely.

You’re right, she said, "there is an untold story. And this is as good a time as any to tell it. These are halcyon days for Dr U Who. But that was now, this is then…"

Part One: Who’s Who

Chapter One

SUMMER 2003. The midnight oil was burning in Auntie Beeb’s private penthouse on the top floor of Broadcasting House.

Although it was August outside, the mind of the mighty media matriarch was focused firmly on the forthcoming festive season, and the highly anticipated traditional Christmas Day televisual treats.

She rubbed her tired eyes as she pondered the draft seasonal schedule for the early evening entertainment; Dale Winton, Eastenders, My Family, Michael Parkinson’s Christmas With The Stars, more Eastenders…

Auntie Beeb sighed. She had the ace up her sleeve, a brand new episode of the much-loved sitcom Only Fools And Horses, for later that night, but the early evening line up was lacking something that she just could not put her finger on, something buried deep at the back of her mind, and it troubled her.

The bedside clock chimed, and Auntie Beeb sighed heavily again. The solution to whatever it was that was missing was clearly not going to come to her now. She climbed into bed, switched off the light, and quickly slipped into a deep sleep, while muttering something missing over and over again.

She woke with a start and had the unnerving feeling that she was not alone. The large French windows were wide open and the long net curtains were swirling gently in the warm summer breeze. But a cold shiver shuddered down her spine.

Then she spotted a tall figure in the shadows beside the open window. As it stepped forward, Auntie Beeb gasped, for he looked unlike any man she had ever seen before if, indeed, he was a man.

The bizarre-looking creature had a tall, thin, narrow head with slightly slanted, beady, eyes which blinked vacantly, and a whole mass of tentacles hanging out of its mouth.

Who…? Auntie Beeb whispered.

The figure held up a white ball, which glowed brightly, as he replied, We are Odd, in a calm, friendly, somehow reassuring, voice.

I’ll say, Auntie Beeb evidently did. What’s with the tentacles?

An evolutionary accident. A greedy ancestor was eating an octopus when it entered a cloning machine, which could not tell the two apart.

And the glowing ball?

My voice box, said the Odd. Since we are all born with a mouthful of tentacles, it makes talking in the traditional manner somewhat difficult. This voice box is directly linked to my vocal chords.

I see, said Auntie Beeb, who had concluded that this dream clearly indicated she had been overdoing it, and was over-tired.

I can help you, said the Odd, in that unwavering, soothing, though slightly unnatural – or unearthly - tone. Your sleep is troubled, you seek something, and we know what it is or, more correctly, Who it is.

Go on, said Auntie Beeb.

What’s missing from your Christmas Day schedules is Dr U Who.

Auntie Beeb laughed. It seemed as if her own subconscious self was teasing and tormenting her. Dr U Who? she laughed. If you believe that, then you truly are odd. U Who hasn’t been screened on Christmas Day since 1965, when he broke all protocol by turning to the camera and directly talking to the viewers!

Dr U Who will win the ratings war. He should be restored to prime time.

Prime time? Auntie Beeb shook her head. I don’t think so.

What better way to mark his 40th anniversary than by bringing him back?

Look, I’ve agreed to a new animated adventure being made for the website, I can afford that. The official ninth manifestation is something I can, ahem, Grant you. But prime time? I think not.

The Odd blinked vacantly, apparently unmoved.

Dr U Who must return to prime time, before it is too late. If he is not returned soon, then he will be lost forever.

I’m sorry, Auntie Beeb said softly, with a sympathetic smile, but if memory serves me right, Dr U Who had become something of a laughing stock.

That is the problem, interrupted the Odd, just a little more assertively, "your memory is not serving you correctly. You have been infected with a virus, and it is affecting your memory of Dr U Who, making you forget all that you once believed in so strongly, making Dr U Who nothing more than a memory, but one that has been corrupted. And if you don’t fight it, he will fade into nothing. We have foreseen the Doctorgoner."

The who what?

The Doctorgoner. All Odd-kind sing of the Doctorgoner.

Assuming I believe you, said Auntie Beeb patiently, just how do you suggest I fight this memory-altering virus?

You will be visited by three spirits, representing Dr U Who’s past, present and future, although, the Odd paused, almost as if he felt a little embarrassed, not necessarily in that order. And they will help you.

Isn’t this the sort of thing that usually happens on Christmas Eve, and not a hot summer night?

It is your vision, Auntie Beeb and, after all, you have been thinking about the Christmas Day schedules.

Of course, nodded Auntie Beeb. Well, if it’s all the same to you, I think I should probably wake up from this dream now.

As you wish, said the Odd, its voice not wavering at all. Just remember, three spirits. Three spirits, and if you do not heed their warnings, then Dr Who is a goner, the Doctorgoner.

Auntie Beeb rubbed her eyes, suddenly alone again. What an odd dream, she thought; quite literally Odd, it would seem.

I must tell Norton in the morning, he’ll love it, she muttered to herself, as she thought about the vision. He’s been nagging me to bring back Dr U Who for ages. Prime time, indeed!

She yawned, snuggled back under the covers, and once again slipped into a deep, deep, sleep.

She woke again with a start, and once more had the unnerving feeling that she was not alone. Instinctively, she glanced across the room to the shadows beside the window and, sure enough, there was a figure there. But it was not the Odd this time. Instead, it was a rather attractive, older, woman.

Hello darling, she purred. I’m Joanna Lovely, and I’m the spirit of Dr U Who present.

Auntie Beeb sat herself up fully, grateful at least that this dream already seemed far more normal. She regarded the elegant woman carefully and then composed herself.

I know the Odd fellow told me that my memory isn’t serving me correctly, apparently, said the media mother figure, and while it’s absolutely fabulous to see you, sweetie, you are a very long way from my recollection of Dr U Who.

Well, you do have a virus, darling, that’s why I’m here, purred Joanna. As for Dr U Who; I did say I am the spirit of Dr U Who present, and I’m afraid that the very last time he appeared on prime time television, he looked like me. And that was four years ago now, 1999. All that morphing and changing went a bit wonky, and he had finally got well and truly in touch with his feminine side, and became a ‘her’, or, in fact, a ‘me’; it was the curse of his apparently fatal death. Kind of.

But…

You told the Odd that Dr U Who had become something of a laughing stock, and you were right. And I was there, as a bit of Comic Relief.

But that’s exactly why I removed him from prime time, said Auntie Beeb. He had become too much of a comical character. He was meant to be the star of a far more serious sci-fi drama, not a pantomime parody.

So you removed him from prime time. Yet you didn’t cancel him completely, did you? You could have done. But something prevented you, and that’s why I’m here. It’s not too late to save him, and somewhere, deep down inside your sub-consciousness, your belief in him is still burning; it’s just been buried. And I am here to help you find it again. If we find it, and you return him to prime time, and give him his strength back, you can save him.

Save him? From what? From who?

From being eradicated from existence, said Joanna. When you removed Dr U Who from prime time, you weakened him, and set in motion a process which has been slowly sapping him of his strength ever since. Someone else, someone really rather quite clever, is taking advantage of this. They are using a virus to erase memories of Dr U Who, and he is too weak to fight back. If they are not stopped, it won’t matter if you didn’t have the heart to kill him off completely, because someone else is going to save you the trouble. And it will be as if Dr U Who had never been born in the first place.

Auntie Beeb scratched her head.

Joanna Lovely stepped forward, her expression stern and strong. If Dr U Who is allowed to fade away into nothingness, then the whole universe becomes vulnerable to the forces of evil.

This is getting a bit heavy for a dream, said Auntie Beeb. But you are right about one thing; I couldn’t bring myself to kill off Dr U Who completely. But the thing is, I just can’t afford to bring him back; I can’t afford the kind of production values today’s audiences demand and he would become a bigger joke than ever.

Times change, said Joanna Lovely. But you are not yet strong enough to fight for him. The virus has been working on you for some time.

How do I fight it, then?

You must go to see Dr U Who. But not in your current form, with your prejudices, preconceptions and contaminated memory. You must forget everything you know, or think you know, about Dr U Who, and learn it all over again, unlocking the memories the virus has attacked, corrupted and hidden.

What do you mean, not in my current form?

I’m a magical spirit, my dear, empowered by the Odd, and I can do pretty much anything. You will regress to a younger version of yourself, an Auntie Beeb who had never heard of Dr U Who, an Auntie Beeb not infected by the virus. Not yet, at least. You will meet him, learn about him, and re-discover your belief in him.

OK, said Auntie Beeb, not altogether convincingly.

It is something you were destined to do, said Joanna. Think about it, darling. Before you got married, what was your name?

It was Ann, said Auntie Beeb. She stared wistfully into the distance, searching for the memory. She found it, and composed herself again. Ann T Orac, she said.

Unusual name, Orac, observed Joanna.

I know, said Auntie Beeb. We used it for the name of a powerful computer in another sci-fi show, as a little in-joke, if you will. But that’s another story.

Quite, said Joanna.

With my middle name beginning with ‘T’, when I became more powerful, we thought Ann T sounded like Auntie, which sounded kind of maternal, which was the image I was going for.

Indeed, said Joanna, a little impatiently. But don’t you see? It’s written in your name. You were meant to be the ultimate Dr U Who fan, so you must be the one to save him, for you are the one that all other fans were named after; you are the first sci-fi Ann Orac; the original, you might say.

But technically, I’m the one who cancelled him, said Auntie Beeb. Which probably makes me public enemy number one.

Ah, but by then you were already infected with the virus. You cancelled him, but now you can be his saviour. It’s time for you to revert to your younger form, visit Dr U Who, and then return with memories and faith restored, with a bit of luck. Then, in this 40th anniversary year, you can do something different, give him a new lease of life, and save the day.

I, I, I….

Just close your eyes, sweetie. And remember…

Chapter Two

In a lost dark dimension somewhere between reality and fantasy, fact and fiction, living and limbo, lies the planet Hiatus.

Hiatus is a barren, forlorn, wilderness where the forsaken roam, neither truly alive nor forgotten enough to be allowed the comfort of being cancelled completely.

The inhabitants of Hiatus wander aimlessly in the usually vain hope of finding the fabled promised land; for here, it is said, it is possible that a mythical door which leads back to prime time can be found and, if you are very, very, lucky, unlocked.

One such character roaming this desolate, bleak, terrain was Dr