Lost WHO Scripts: The Return

[Spoon of Ploff]

Those of you with long memories, and empty lives may remember (despite your best efforts) the Lost WHO scripts which I presented to H.S.Art many years ago. Here then, as an early Christmas treat, and as a response to some of the shite that's being penned by the shows current, eh, show runner, is the final, final lost script...

Well, two lost scripts actually. Parts One, and Two of Doctor WHO and the Spoon of PahhRaxis*

Part One was written some time around 2000, the second about ten years or more later. They are both a collaboration work. My partner in crime is not of this board, and will remain nameless, but not blameless.

_{*original title: Spoon of Ploff, but if felt weird reading it back now so I changed it.}

Lovingly restored in it's original bad spelling, and inaccurate screenplay format... I give you the first part, of part one of...



EXT SHOT: A barren and desolate landscape. Windswept grasses cling for dear life to unforgiving rocks. Sleet begins to fall.

The camera pans round and zooms in on a bad composite of what appears to be an alien space ship. It looks like a golf ball supported upon a tripod made from old ballpoint pens. The whole arrangement is painted metallic black. It looks for all the world like the kind of special effect a workshop might produce if they were severely strapped for cash and suffering from extreme low morale.

A caption appears on the screen:

"The part of Earth that will one day become Coventry, during the last Ice Age 10000 years ago"

CUT TO INT:Spacecraft. Two hunched figures dressed in black capes are sitting at the control panel. Their faces are obscured by hoods. They seem to be arguing:

Hooded Figure 1: ....I tell you Gazblogg, we must return the spoon to the Galactic Council. It's not safe to keep it. I-it's too powerful...

Gazblogg: Nonsense, Blerfwyn. Only a weak minded cannot control it. Don't you see that with the Spoon of PahhRaxis at our disposal, we have unlimited power to rule...?

Blerfwyn: Your mind has been corrupted by the evil sorcery of the spoon. If you don't return it, I will.

With this, Blerfwyn snatches the spoon from Gazblogg's grip, and runs out of the air lock of the space ship.

Gazblogg: Stop you fool! Where do you think you're going to run to...?

He draws a gun from his belt.

Gazblogg: Stop, or I swear I'll shoot....

CUT TO EXT: A barren and desolate landscape

Blerfwyn keeps running, and Gazblogg shoots him in the back. Bler's dying reflex is to throw the spoon into a nearby, fast flowing stream. Gaz lets fly a howl of anguish, as the Spoon of PahhRaxis is swept away and vanishes for all time...
... o-or does it?

CUT TO EXT: A drab city on a drab afternoon. A caption reads:

Spon End, Coventry, England, Earth. Present day.

We join Don Swa'hallen, curator of the Spon End Spoon museum as he's unlocking the front door. He pauses long enough for us to read the headline of the local rag he's carrying:
RARE SPOON FOUND IN THESE PARTS.

CUT TO INT: Inside the museum, a little time has passed and Don is about to be interviewed by a TV crew from East-West Midlands News Today. The interviewer identifies himself as Tony Glass

TG: Hello East-West Midlands. I'm here in the Spon End Spoon Museum, here in Coventry where I'm joined by Don Swa'hallen, the curator. Thanks for having us along today Don.

DS: A pleasure Tony.

TG: I understand that you've just taken receipt of a new and unusual spoon, found in Coventry it's very self?

DS: That's right Tony. The builders constructing the new Kwik-Save noticed it when they were digging the foundations, and brought it along for us to look at. We're all very excited by this find.

TG: So what makes this spoon such a special... eh spoon Don?

DS: Well, apart from the fact that it was found in the local vicinity, the archaeological evidence suggests that this spoon is at least 10000 years old. This is well before the previous earliest estimate for when mankind first started using cutlery. In addition to this, it appears to be made out of a material not known to science.

TG: Not known..?

DS: That's right Tony.

TG: To science? Well, that certainly sounds like an unusual find. Can we take a look at it..?

DS: of course. We keep it under lock and key in the stock room, until the exhibition starts.

CUT TO INT: Stock Room. Don lets them inside, and they gawp at the spoon. It seems to be constructed from a metal that glows a faint green intermittently. The hilt of the spoon is covered in what appear to be microchips of an alien design. None of this seems to worry anyone unduly

TG: Wow! It's an impressive specimen alright. When does the exhibition start?

DS: we hope to kick it off on the 1st of May, and will last for as long as there is popular demand to stare at it for money.

JS: Thanks Don. This is Tony Glass reporting for the East-West Midlands News Today from The Spon End Spoon Museum, Coventry.

A dissolve effect is used to signify the passing of time. A new caption helps to ground us:
May 1st

CUT TO EXT: Spoon Museum. Don turns up for work as usual, and he's satisfied to notice that a small but respectable queue is already starting to form. Tegan Earl, the admission girl, is already doing a brisk trade.

CUT TO INT: Spoon Museum. Its 9:15, and Don is ready to take the first party round to look at the strange new spoon.

DS:......and the spoon was located only 8 months ago, less than 500 yards away from where it currently resides. The fascinating thing is that the spoon was found in Holocene mud flows, which dates it between 9000 and 10000 years old. It's far, far older than any other spoon hitherto yet already discovered.

At this point, an irritating stereotype tourist laden down with cameras starts taking photos, in spite of the prominent sign that says "Flash Photography Strictly Forbidden" above the spoon's display case. After the first flash, the spoon's unearthly green glow seems to become brighter. After the second flash, the spoon starts humming in an angry manner.

DS (intervening): Do you mind? The sign quite clearly says that flash photography is forb....

The tourist ignores him completely, and keeps snapping. On the third flash, the microchips on the spoon's handle start to flash in a rhythmic pattern.

DS: Look, will you stop that...?

On the forth flash (and to everyone's surprise) the spoon sprouts tentacles that expand rapidly, bursting through the display case, until they're at least 6 metres long. Everyone starts screaming, panicking and running about. The stereotype tourist, laden down with camera gear, is too slow and one of the tentacles picks him up and hurls him against a wall where he falls in a crumpled heap, clearly snapped.

One of the tentacles sneaks its way along the corridors to the admissions desk, where is reaches for Tegan Earl. She starts screaming in an ear splitting shriek.

Don arrives on the scene with a viciously sharpened ladel and begins hitting the tentacles with force and feeling.

DS: Have at you!

The tentacles fall back briefly unable to comprehend such middle-aged resistance. Tegan recovers enough to realise the admissions desk opens out into the street and the two of them flee to relative safety.

Only several other C: list actors escape from the spoon museum, the screams of the dead and the dying can be heard above the sounds of the mutant alien spoons squelching noises...

Clist#1: My god what the blazes is that... thing?

Clist#2: It is monstrous

Clist#3(hamming it up nicely): The horror! The horror!!!

Don looks on impassively. Tegan by his side has taken to chewing listlessly on a piece of gum.... behind them an old fashioned police box materialises from nothing, after several moments Tom Baker (for it is he) emerges looking old and mad. He creeps up behind Don, and taps him on the shoulder scaring the crap out of him.

TB (grinning inappropriately): Hello! (and then with gravitas) would anyone care for a jelly baby??

Just then screams of agony are heard coming from nearby houses. An extra who looks like he may have starred as background popcorn fodder in grange hill during the seventies staggers out of no57 Spon End with two tea spoons jammed in his ears and bleeding arms.

D'SH: Lord god no!!!

TB: This is worse then I'd anticipated. Already the Spoon of PahhRaxis is strong enough to direct nearby spoons to commit acts of carnage through the powers of telek-enisis.

D'SH: Spoon of-?

TB: We must remove ourselves from this place to a distance of at least 50 yards. Ah!!!

Tom points to a hastily prepared police cordon at the end of the road. One of those flimsy yellow and black striped tapes has just been strung across it.

TB: That should keep the monster at bay for a time. Hurry..

As they flee spoons from nearby buildings crash through doors and windows, survivors from the museum fend them off as best they can with flailing arms and fists and bits of fallen masonry. Several more people who may or may not have been 'person in the crowd number 4' in the second series of Only Fools and Horses are picked off. Only the Doctor, Don and Tegan make it to the tape barrier.

PoliceMan#1: Who the bleedin' hell are you? An Wha's going on!?

TB: Why I'm the doctor of course. And as for what's going on -

The Doctor is cut short by the closing credits to Episode 1, unsettling the traditionalists who expected a proper cliff hanger ending.


The restoration work continues. More to follow.. or not. I mean I was practically running on fumes that last time..

[Glebe]

Nice one SoP! Karma galore!

[Spoon of Ploff]

The Spoon of PahhRaxis One: PART 2:

EXT SHOT: Spon End, Coventry: Scenes of chaos. Cut to a close up of Don Swa'hallen looking very worried indeed. A packet of sweets is being rattled under his nose.

TB: They're not real jelly babies if that's what you're thinking...just confectionery... although the inhabitants of Socrates 12 do in fact have babies made of jelly. They grow up to -

DS: Wha....? Look I'm afraid I have rather more pressing things to consider than eating jelly babies. My entire museum has been taken over, and it's patrons killed by a glowing green mutant spoon.

TB: Really....? Oh yes! Of course... Well now things seem to have calmed down a bit I think we'd better go in for a closer look, don't you...?

DS: Bugger that! I'm off before I get pulped too. Come on Tegan.

He grabs her arm and tries to pull her away, but TE is made of sterner stuff.

TE: but wait, Don! Surely we must try and do something. Who knows what this thing will do if we don't try and stop it now.

TB: Ha haaa! Good. The girl's got some spunk in her! I think it's safe to go in now, it seems to be asleep.

Tom and Tegan tippy toe back to the museum, followed by a reluctant Don, who's muttering to himself. Sure enough, the spoon seems to be in a dormant state, tentacles are hanging limply.

TB: It's as I thought! The Spoon of PahhRaxis. This little fellow's been out of circulation for a good long while.

DS: You mean you know what this thing is..?

TB(distracted as he studies the spoon): Oh yes....

Tom pokes at the spoon for several minutes. The less than subtle background music suggests this is a tense scene. Eventually Don loses patience.

DS: Well go on then! Explain...

TB:  This is the Spoon of PahhRaxis. It was constructed many millennia ago by a race of spoon worshippers from the Andromeda Galaxy. It has rather unusual properties as you may have gathered, and was designed as a kind of doomsday weapon to defend the spoon worshippers against their mortal enemies... the cult of the fork.

TE: Blimey,

TB: Two dissidents from the spoon worshipper's clan stole the spoon about 10000 years ago in order to further their own aims of personal power. Soon after they stole the spoon, they went missing, and it has been lost... until now.

DS: Ok......where did you say you were from...?

TB: I don't believe that I did....

DS: Are you sure it wasn't Broadmoor, or somewhere equivalently mad...?

TE: Oh come on, Don. There must be some truth in his story. I mean, a spoon which can sprout tentacles and kill people is hardly an everyday occurrence...

DS: Hmm, ok. I'll have to accept it for the time being. Anyway, turning to more practical matters, how do we kill it?

TB: Oh, we can't kill it. It has to be returned to its rightful owners, in order to restore cosmic harmony... against the forks.

DS: Have you ever heard of a mental condition called paranoid delusion...? It can be treated very effectively these days, I promise you.

TB (ignoring Don's insult): Besides which, if we were to kill it, the resulting explosion could wipe out this half of the galaxy... possibly.

DS (irritated): So what do you suggest we do...Doctor?

TB: Tell me, what happened immediately before the spoon came to life?

DS: Well, some tourist was taking photos of it. That seemed to annoy it...

TB: Of course! It's light-sensitive. That explains why it's been dormant for so long...it was buried underground. We need to deactivate it by putting it back in the dark.

TE: We could put it in the stock room....it's dark in there....

DS: Yes, but how are we going to get it there...? It must weigh several tons now, what with all those tentacles and everything.



An obscure accident involving water and magnets results in the rest of the episode being lost to humanity. We pick things up again half way through the third part.


INT SHOT: Spoon Museum. Don Swa'hallen, the Doctor and Tegan, are cautiously making their way through the dark brooding corridors of the spoon museum.

Whether they're trying to get out or penetrate further within is unclear. There are several unconvincing actors dressed as police men. Their careers are likely to peak as extras on the market scenes in East Enders.

All around them are spoons. They appear to be in a sleepy docile state. The humans edge by a group of ladles hanging from a light fitting. Tegan supresses a scream as one of them twitches... This is a feeble attempt to re-create the suspense generated at the end of Alfreds Hitchcox -The Birds...

Suddenly Don kicks a discarded camera, activating the flash mechanism. The spoons begin to wake.

TB: That was unfortunate! Aha ha!!

DS. Quickly this way!!!

Don leads the party down some steps. The spoons attack. The coppers scream as they clutch cutlery to their chests and slump to the ground. Our trio make it to some secure underground bunker type place.

DS (shutting and bolting a secure heavy door): This was an old nuclear shelter. We should be safe here for a while.

TB: Are there any spoooons in here?

DS: A couple of tea spoons... and maybe a dessert spoon I think...

As he speaks the said spoons attack. In a cunning pincher movement they rush in at lightning speed. Don receives a pump on the head. The Doctor manages to entangle the spoons in his scarf and dispatches them with his sonic screwdriver.

Spoons: eeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeee e . .

TE: Cool

TB: Thankyou my dear, but I fear we have just won the battle, but are about to looooz the war.

TE: imagine

DS (regaining consciousness): Hhhh wha happnd?

DW: Don't worry old chap... You just received a bump on the noggin from two telekinetically enslaved teaspoons.

Don looks nonplussed for a few moments, before recent events start flooding back to him, accompanied by a look of growing horror on his face.

DS: Oh my God, yes, I remember now I had a terrible dream about a gigantic alien tentacle-wielding spoon, and an escaped maniac who believes that we should conceal the spoon in the dark!

He shoots a quick glance at Tegan as if seeking confirmation that he's delusional as a result of the blow to the head. The desired confirmation is not forthcoming.

TE: Sorry, Don...I'm afraid it's all true...

DS (holding his head in his hands, in abject dismay): Oh no....and I suppose you're going to tell me that man with the loopy grin and ridiculous outfit standing behind you is....

DW: Nnyess! I'm the Doctor!

TE: Yes, I'm afraid he's the escaped maniac.

DW (clearly still dazed): Well anyway, I intend to get back to work straight away. Spoon museums don't run themselves, you know!

He makes a groggy beeline for the door.

DW: No! Wait! Don't open it...!

Too late! Don opens the door, only to find dozens of spoons hovering in menacing formation. One particularly large and disgruntled looking(?) wooden spoon swoops in to attack Don. Fortunately, he manages to duck in time, and the spoon smashes into the wall behind him where it shatters into splinters. Tegan slams the door closed before any more spoons can get in.

DW: Now do you believe we're in danger...? Good. I suggest we return to our original plan of cutting the Spoon of PahhRaxis off from any source of light, so it returns to a dormant state.

TE: But how are we going to get past all the other spoons...there's no other way out of this room?

The Doctor strokes his chin for a few moments. He notices the two teaspoons that knocked Don unconscious are still lying on the floor, now seemingly inert.

DW: Hmmmm....

CUT TO INT: Outside the underground bunker. The swarm of spoons is still hovering outside the closed door which suddenly swings open. After a moment, a rhythmic tapping sound starts up from inside the room. The tapping sound seems to have a mesmerising effect on the spoons, as they start bobbing up and down in time to the rhythm.

The Doctor appears from round the edge of the door. He's revealed to be playing the two teaspoons across his thigh in a smooth jazz style that Sylvester McCoy would have been proud of. Anyway, the Doctor prances out of the room still playing the spoons. The hovering spoons follow him in a "Pied Piper of Hamlin" kind of way. The Doctor does a complete circuit of the outer room, gathering hovering spoons behind him. Tegan and Don cautiously exit, when they're sure that the spoons' attention is focused on the Doctor.

Eventually, the Doctor returns to the door, hurls the teaspoons inside. All the other spoons follow, and Don slams the door shut behind them, trapping them inside.

DS: Yes! You dumb bastards!

An angry pounding starts up on the other side of the door.

TE: Well, that should hold them.

DW: Ahhh yes, but not for long I fear. The power of the Spoon of PahhRaxis is growing all the time. Soon it will be able to take control of other objects not traditionally considered to be spoons, but that could conceivably be used as spoons at a pinch.

TE (horrified): You don't mean....?

DW: Yes, I'm afraid it will be able to take control of such things like those little wooden fork things you get at chippies, coffee stirrers, flat-headed screwdrivers, trowels, spades, even.....

TE: Even.....?

DW: ....eventually, even doors.

DS: What the flip are you talking about? How can a door...?

As if on cue, the door that the just slammed in the face of the hovering swarm of spoons starts to creak and shudder, as if under the influence of some invisible force trying to tear it from its hinges.

Don lets go a really girly shriek, and all three of them leg it for a safer part of the museum.

They end up next to full-size model of a family of ice-age woolly mammoths. In a scene that's entirely consistent with current archaeological theory, the mammoths are holding crude wooden spoons in their trunks, and appear to be using them to dig into the snow in order to get at the succulent pineapples beneath...

DS: My God, Doctor....what can we do to defend ourselves against this terrible peril?

           to be cont..

[Spoon of Ploff]

Part Next:

DS: My God, Doctor....what can we do to defend ourselves against this terrible peril?

DW: Don't fret my curating friend! I've a little trick up my sleeve for situations such as this.

The Doc whips the sonic screwdriver out, indeed from his sleeve.

DW: I simply calibrate the sonic screwdriver to emit a "field" like so... hit the control knob thusly, and...GERTCHA!

The sonic screwdriver gives off a high-pitched whine, accompanied by some sort of flashing lights. The sound and lights die away.....nothing appears to have happened...

DW: Um..

Suddenly, there's a splitting, cracking kind of noise from behind our trio....they whirl round....the model of the largest mammoth is splitting open, and a hooded figure is emerging from within...!

Hooded Figure (bellowing): Tremble in terror, all ye who have beholden this visage!

TE: Ehh..?

HF: Gazblogg the Mildly Influential is arisen after 10000 of your Earth years!

TE: What, from the arse end of a woolly mammoth?

Gazblogg: No you idiot. This is merely a portal to my space vessel.

TE: A mate of yours, Doc?

DW: Not exactly... (addressing Gazblogg) To what do we own the pleasure, O mildly Gazblogg?

Gazblogg: I am here to claim what is rightfully mine: The Spoon of PahhRaxis, with which I intend to conquer a small part of the universe, and live out the rest of my days in reasonable comfort, exercising adequate power over my immediate domain.

DW: I see. Then you must understand that, for reasons that aren't entirely clear, I will endeavour to thwart your twisted ambition and return the Spoon to its rightfully rightful owners?

Gazblogg (sneering): Fool! To ensure your compliance in handing over the Spoon, I shall kidnap this woman (he turns to Tegan, and casts some kind of force-field around her – depicted by a shimmering blue light). You have one hour to surrender the Spoon to me, or I shall start doing unspeakable things to her.

He retreats back inside the model of the mammoth, taking Tegan with him. The model closes up again, with no visible means of entry.

DS: The fiend! Where on earth did he come and go from to?

DW: I fear that I may have accidentally reversed the morality of the tarragon flow, resulting in a time space destabilization field. Allowing that Gazblogg fellow to awaken and return to this realm.

DS: Realm?

DW: Yes realm. We've got an hour to come up with some sort of plan. Lucky for us he didn't realise that he could have just taken the spoon since we're not the ones controlling it... Now we need to come up with a ruse. I think I know just the thing...

CUT TO INT: Stock room. No explanation as to how Don and the Doc made it here unmolested by rogue homicidal spoons. For some reason, Don has been wrapped from head to toe in tin foil, an old Sky dish has been strapped to the back of his head, and his face painted silver.

DS: I'm still not sure about this, Doctor ...

DW (irrepressibly cheerful): Nonsense, man! You look the absolute spitting image of the Spoon of PahhRaxis! Besides which, Gazblogg's been out of circulation for 10000 years....his eye sight is probably buggered and he didn't look all that bright to me.

DS (unconvinced): Hmmmm....

DW: So, let's run over the plan one last time: Gazblogg emerges from the mammoth; he demands the Spoon; I hand you over to him instead; He returns Tegan – he'll probably crow for a bit; whilst he's spouting on, you leg it out of the backside of the mammoth and effect your escape.

DS: Yes, but then what? God, it's as if this whole situation was a poorly written screen-play.

DW: Bah! Details, details.....I'm sure something will turn up.

DS: But....!

DW: Right! Time to get into position!

Right on the hour, the mammoth opens up, and Gazblogg's head appears from within, in a less than dramatic fashion.

Gazblogg: Greetings again, Dok-tor! Have you come to your senses and decided to surrender the Spoon?

DW: Only with great foreboding, Gazblogg. I hope you will come to YOUR senses and return the Spoon to the Galactic Council before you, and it, can do any mischief.

Gazblogg: Doubtful. I intend to make good use of it. Now, where is it?

The spoon cultist peers around myopically. Eventually he spots a silvery blur that could be the Spoon, but is actually Don Swa'hallen.

Gazblogg: Ah! There it is!

A very poor "beaming in/out" effect kicks in: Tegan is returned and Don disappears.

Gazblogg: Ta very much!

Gazblogg disappears back inside the mammoth, and it closes up again.

DW: Good! That seemed to go perfectly.

He marches off...Tegan is left standing there.

TE: Yeah...I'm fine, thanks for asking.....

CUT TO INT: Mammoth/space ship. Don is standing amidst some control panels, looking somewhat bewildered after his "beaming in" experience. He looks around, as if trying to fathom some way to sabotage the equipment. He spots a panel that looks like it's been removed for maintenance purposes, exposing the electronics below, making it a likely candidate for fucking things up.

Don makes towards it, but manages to trip over and fall against it. Still covered in (highly conductive...) tin foil this has the effect of shorting out the entire panel in a spectacular shower of sparks, dimming the lights and leaving Don charred and smoking.

Unknown to him, the satellite dish strapped to his head has been activated by the surge of current, and has sent out some kind of signal. At that moment, Gazblogg enters the compartment

Gazblogg:  Time to hook the Spoon of PahhRaxis up to the Quantanium Telepathy Enhancement Module, and start making some Galactic mischief! Christ it's dark in here, I can't see a thing.

Seeing his chance, Don flips Gazblogg the Vs and slips through an emergency escape hatch, exiting through what appears to be the mammoth's rectum. The whole scene is very anticlimactic.

CUT TO INT: Some other part of the museum. The doctor and Tegan are having a whispered conversation.

DW: Now, of course, all we have to do is get the Spoon of PahhRaxis back under control, and we're laughing.

TE: Yeah. Easy peas.

DW: Yearse...

They are interrupted by an out-of-breath Don, who's been running to catch up with them.

DS: Turn...out....the....lights...!

DW: What ARE you talking about, my dear fellow?

TE: Of course!

DW: Eh? I'm in the dark here....

DS: Don't you see Doctor...? We've been faffing around for so long that it's now the middle of the night....

DW: Ah Yes! The Spoon of PahhRaxis is only active when it's light! So if we can make it as dark in here... as it is out there... t-then the Spoon should return to some kind of quiescent state

A few moments later, and our trio are creeping along a corridor to where the Spoon of PahhRaxis is now thrashing its tentacles about, in a generally lethargic but disconcerting manner. They approach the light-switch. As they do so, the Doc pulls his yo-yo from his pocket.....aims it at the light-switch...unleashes....and misses totally.

Fortunately, Tegan is quick-witted enough to dash forward and flip the lights off before the Spoon of PahhRaxis can react. The whole room is plunged into darkness. The Spoon of PahhRaxis emits a hideous shriek.

SoP: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhh....... Eehhhh.

Followed by an unpleasant gurgling and finally a disquieting hiss as its tentacles retract and it returns to normal size. Luckily, the hissing sound continues long enough for the Doc to locate the Spoon in the dark, and slip it into his pocket.

DW: There we are...all sorted.

TE: Are you sure it's safe in there Doctor?

DW: I can't think of anywhere safer.

Suddenly Gazblogg arrives on the scene. Breathless and pissed off. And waving the same gun he dispatched Blerfwyn with.

Gazblogg: Not so fast, Dok-tor! Your attempt to fob me off with this, pitiful counterfeit –

DS: Oi!

Gazblogg: - Has failed! Now, hand over the Spoon! The REAL Spoon.

DW: Damned nuisance!

At that moment....a blinding light pervades the entire scene.. Gazblogg drops the gun and doubles over in pain, dazzled by the light.....the ceiling starts to cave in, and through it bursts another space ship, in the shape of an oversized cow!

The space ship opens, and from it emerge bizarre looking aliens, whose bodies are shaped like spoons, and heads like gigantic hard boiled eggs.

Lead Alien: Greetings Earth beings! We are representatives of the Galactic Council. We received a signal from the recidivist Spoon cultist known as Gazblogg and half come to take him into space custody.

Upon this proclamation Gazblogg is "beamed out."

Gazblogg: Noooooooo....

Lead Alien: We'll take The Spoon of PahhRaxis as well thank you very much.

The spoon whisked out of the Doc's pocket, and into the pocket of the lead alien.

Lead Alien: Well, that's all sorted. We'll be off then... Bye.

The egg-faced aliens beam back onto their spaceship, which promptly flies away.

TE: A bit abrupt yeah..? All that...

DW: Sometimes things just work out like that.

DS(chagrined): Oh my God! How am I going to explain this all: the deaths....the damage to the museum...the loss of the star exhibit.....? I'm ruined....!

DW: Ha haah! Never mind old man. It may seem like a MAMMOTH task at first, but I'm sure you'll come up with a convincing answer!

DS: ...I'll probably go to prison... health and safety violations... be in the frame for murder...who's going to believe that a giant alien spoon committed all the killings?

DW: Come along Tegan, fancy a look around all of time and space?

TE: Yeah. Alrighty.

DW: Wonderful! But I should warn you... I've a nasty feeling I'm about to regenerate into Peter Davison.....



The End of Part One. Part Two to follow.

[Spoon of Ploff]

.. and so, ten years after the first script came the sequel:




EXT SHOT: A rural scene. It's clearly a field in Medieval England. We know this on account of the hoard of peasants covered head-to-toe in shite. They are laboriously tilling the land with much sweating, and cursing.

The scene widens somewhat. Into view comes a sinister looking castle on a hill. A crow begins balefully cawing.

CUT TO INT: The castle, a great hall. It is in a state of considerable neglect and decay, but was clearly a very grand place once upon a time.

Perched upon a throne at one end of the hall is an elderly man, who appears as dilapidated as his surroundings. This is Thomas, Lord D'Lerious Third Baron of Clifton Shap. He is slumped forward, as if in deep and troubled thought. He is awoken suddenly and rudely by the unnecessary loud and bustling entrance of an arrogant younger man. This is Sir Eckbert Unche, Equerry to Lord D'Lerious. Sir Eckbert's clothing appears to be in much better repair than Lord Thomas'

SEU: My Lord! I trust I have not disturbed your ponderings?

LTD'L: Verily, you have. I trust you have done so with good reason?

SEU: Indeed I have, my good Lord! I bear tidings from Grand Wizard Blogggaz!

LTD'L (clasping his head in despair): Oh Christ! What does he want this time?

SEU (a touch of menace in his voice): His Eminence the Wizard Blogggaz reminds you once again that he is your humble servant, and of his extreme embarrassment for his continual demands upon your resources. He further reminds you however, that they are crucial for his metaphysical and alchemical researches, by which YOU hope to profit.

LTD'L (annoyed): Profit???!! He promised me unlimited gold and the Elixir of Eternal Youth! Look at me! I look like a tramp who's leaked most all the fluid from his body! I haven't moved my bowels in over a week! Something I'm actually grateful for, since my piles are hanging exceedingly low at the moment! Profit, my blistering arse! I'm a physical wreck! When's this bloody elixir going to start coming on stream???

SEU: Please be patient My Lord! The Grand Wizard assures me that results are very close now. A few more – errrr - "consignments" should do the trick....

LTD'L (sighing): Cut to the chase, then. What does our (here he does Fry quotes) "Grand Wizard" need?

SEU (unfurling a scroll): Three pounds of silver, a quart of black pearls, the hardboiled egg on an whale, the tooth of an Oozlum bird and, of course, the usual ten gallons of human blood.

LTD'L: I can't keep doing this, you know. Even the peasants are starting to notice that their numbers are dwindling and it's not even Black Death season. Thank God they ARE only peasants!

SEU: I'm sure you'll find a way to satisfy The Grand Wizard's demands, My Lord. After all, we wouldn't want any harm to come to the Lady D'Lerious......

CUT TO EXT: Somewhere in the Space-Time Continuum... the TARDIS spins.

CUT TO INT: TARDIS. It's a "classic series" console room. The Doctor is present. He's still in Tom Baker mode. His assistant this time round is Peri (in an attempt to get the dads on board). The Doctor is hunched over the controls, making adjustments. Peri is reading a book on astrophysics. On many of the pages are post it notes with messages like 'HA! WRONG!!', 'Don't give up the day job Hawkins', and 'LOL!!.'

Suddenly, the whole console room starts shaking violently. The Doctor hurls himself against the wall in a vain effort to persuade the viewer that it really is the room shaking, and not the camera. Peri screams and falls over unconvincingly.

As suddenly as it started, the shaking stops. The Doctor and Peri pick themselves up and dust themselves down.

Peri: W-what was that?

DW: What was what?

Peri: That!

DW: Oh that... What?

Peri (annoyed): What was that violent shaking all about?

DW: If I was to guess I'd say that the Tardis has just passed through a Temporal Peculiarity Field. A very powerful one, at that.

Peri: And if you were to review the event scientifically?

DW: I'd say the same.

At this point, his voice tails off to almost a murmur, and he delivers direct to camera.

DW (a twinkle in his teeth): Almost as if someone was reaching out across time and space, trying to reach me. Someone....or some... thing...

Snapping back into the present the Doctor claps his hands in a business-like way.

DW: Come on! No time for standing around!

Peri: Where are we going?

DW: To find the source of the field, of course!

Peri: Mightn't that be dangerous?

DW: "Mightn't"??? Who still says "mightn't" these days...?

Peri: It's a perfectly good word!

DW: Alriight. Alright. Otherwise we willn't hear the end of it.


CUT TO EXT: Medieval England, and the village of Lower Dunstpilfor on Gloming. A few scattered huts are done up to look like some theme park designers idea of an olde English settlement. Its peasant population is composed entirely of nonspeaking parts – like the back row home guard in Dad's Army. They stand around some knight on a horse, backed up by some camp looking soldiers.

Sir Eckbert Unche (for it is he): Be it known that the Lord D'Lerious your master hath deemed you all chattel, and hence forth the property of the Grand Wizard Blogggaz! You are to immediately transport yourselves into his possession by way of that road (points off toward the left). These most loyal of my Lords guards will see that you do just that."

The guards attempt to look menacing, and the peasants slope off murmuring amongst themselves. One of them can be heard saying "rhubarb, rhubard" over and over. One clumsy guard drops his sword and a peasant helpfully picks it up and hand it back to him.

CUT TO EXT: A different POV shows where the peasants are heading: a strange looking castle perched on three pillars has been painted onto the background.

Cut to a contented looking Eckbert, who rides off in the opposite direction laughing, leaving the village deserted. It is at this precise, indeed exact moment that the TARDIS appears, literally out of nowhere.

TARDIS: nnnnnahhhhhhrrr, nnnnnahhhhhhrrr, nnnnnnnahhhhhrrr

After a moment the Doctor and Peri emerge being careful to obscure the interior of the blue box from the camera.

DW (bounding about, grinning): Ah! Yes of course!!

Peri (unimpressed with the site of Dunstpilfor): but where are we doctor?

DW (licking his finger and waving it about in the air as if checking wind direction): Hmmm, if I'm not mistaken this is earth. Medieval England... or possibly 21st Century England after Brexit... o-or perhaps 22nd Century Scotland after devolution.

Peri: Well which is it?

DW: The finger is not an exact science my dear and the visual cues don't help. Look around... The lack of any meaningful infrastructure and no evidence of any technological achievements... Copious amounts of dung.

The doctor appears to have a brain wave, doing that thing with his eyes.

DW: Ah..! No... It's gone.

Peri: Perhaps we should find someone and ask them.

DW: Of course, clever girl, what could possibly go wrong with a plan as well structured as that?"

It is not clear if sarcasm has been deployed.

DW: "I suggest we head in that direction" Points off toward the left.

Cut to another POV, and yes they are heading toward the same odd looking castle.


CUT TO EXT: A path through a wood, viewed from afar. In the distance we see the Doctor and Peri wander along having some sort of discussion. In the foreground we see a blurry arm and shoulder. There is heavy laboured breathing. For the more 'challenged' viewer there are some musical queues as to the sinister nature of this scene.

Cut to new POV. We're now following the two time travellers from close up.

DW: ...of course he completely failed in the part, and spent the rest of his days a bitter, bitter man... didn't even show up for his own regeneration, which may well have been a mercy. And that's why you should never cross your own time stream unless it's vital. Same goes for picking up again where the other fella left off.

Peri: But then, I mean... how did I end up here? I'm still not clear on –

DW: Yeees it's a mystery I mean to get to the bottom of.

This last is Spoken with a leer and said in such a way that could be deemed inappropriate for Saturday Sunday evening viewing.

Cut to previous POV. We see the wheezing figure in stalking mode. In the distance the doctor and Peri laugh hysterically.

CUT TO EXT: A badly realised model of the castle of the Grand Wizard Blogggaz.

CUT TO INT: It looks nothing like a redressed Great Hall of D'Lerious Third Baron of Clifton Shap. On the Walls are numerous tapestries featuring epic battles in which spoons appear prominently for some reason.

A hooded figure shuffles into view, chuckling to itself.

Grand Wizard Bloggaz (for it is he): Excellent, ex-el-ent. That last batch of feckless, shite shod scum have nearly filled the blood reserves.

The camera directs our attention to a large thermometer type object on the wall. It's filled almost to the brim with a bright red liquid. Just shy of a chalk mark with '100 peasant' scrawled next to it.

GWB: "Just one or two more should see it done, and then the restoration will be complete. Aha! Ha ha!! Ha.

The wizard pulls back a curtain to reveal a standard, if slightly green glowing, Sheffield 78 tea spoon on a plinth. The camera zooms in dramatically and the famous 70's cliff hanger music kits in.

END OF EPISODE ONE

[Spoon of Ploff]

START OF EPISODE TWO

EXT SHOT: Woods. A POV shot following the Doctor and Peri closely. They're still heading towards the odd looking three-legged castle, chattering away to one another. Suddenly, a band of men burst out of the undergrowth and bar their path.

The band of men is led by a fellow who looks like a camp re-imagining of Robin Hood. He's dressed in a large, floppy felt hat with a peacock feather sticking out of it, and outrageously tight green tights. He sports a large handle-bar moustache, and speaks in an incredibly florid way. This is Sir Guy DeRogering.

The rest of the band is yet more zombie-like extras (likely ones from before, hastily re-wardrobed). One of them appears to grinning like an imbecile at something shiny off-camera.

Sir Guy addresses DW and Peri

SGDR: Halt! Halt in the name of the Baron! Who go-eth there? Art thou friend or foe? Speak now, wretched curs!

DW: How do you do (he takes a step forward, as if to shake hands with Sir Guy)? I'm The Doctor, and this is my companion Peri. Would you care for a jelly.........

The Doctor is cut off, before completing his sentence, as the band of men fall upon him and Peri, without any explanation for their actions.

The Doctor is pinned to the ground by two burly extras. Peri is grabbed by another, but manages to wriggle free of his grasp, and disappear into the undergrowth.

SGDR: Take him away! The girl is of no importance...let her go.

DW: I say! Is this any way to treat a visitor to these parts?

SGDR: Cease thy inane prattle, poltroon!

The band of men bundle the Doctor off in the direction of Baron Thomas' castle.

CUT TO EXT: Hill Overlooking woods. The hooded figure of Grand Wizard Blogggaz has observed the whole scene through his telescope. His laboured breathing quickens in pace. He turns to another figure. It's Sir Eckbert Unche. He addresses Sir Eckbert in a wheezing, sibilant tone.

GWB: Return to your castle, and bring me this "Dok-Tor"....he intrigues me.

SEU: As you command, Master...

CUT TO INT: The Great Hall of Lord Thomas' castle. The Doctor has been dragged before the throne by Sir Guy and his henchmen, and is being forced to kneel.

LTD'L: Who's this prick?

SGDR: We found him wandering in the wood, My Lord. Up to no good, I'll wager! Poaching the king's deer... Probably...

DW (sighing): If I might just be allowed to explain......

SGDR: Silence, dog!

Sir Guy strikes the Doctor with a cerulean blue silk glove.

LTD'L: So! Poaching on my land, were you? I'll see you hang for this!

DW: Actually, I was investigating the source of a Temporal Peculiarity Field. You don't happen to know of the existence of a TPF generator nearby, do you?

SGDR: I'll cut that insolent tongue from your head!

Before Sir Guy can act on his threat Lord Thomas emits an unexpected groan of pain.

DW: Are you having some medical difficulty there. I may be able to help. My expertise is not confined to the realm of Temporal Peculiarity, you know.

Lord Thomas studies the Doctor with sudden keen interest.

LTD'L: What do you know of haemorrhoids? Mine have been gyping something rotten in recent weeks.

DW: So! The old "Farmer Giles" playing up, eh? - My Lord.

LTD'L:Any man who could rid me of these satanic arse imps and their constant, throbbing irritation would indeed be a friend of the realm.

DW: Realm..?

LTD'L: Yes.. realm.

DW: I've studied one or two backsides in my time. I dare say I can be of service hare.

In a scene that's CERTAINLY not suitable for Saturday early-evening viewing, Lord Thomas stands up, turns round and drops his kecks right in the face of the still kneeling Doctor. Fortunately, all actual detail is angled away from the camera.

DW: My word! They ARE fine examples, to be sure. All the same, I think I can cure them.

At this point, The Doctor whips out his sonic screwdriver and fires a burst of sonic radiation directly into Lord Thomas' backside.

Lord Thomas yelps in pain, but then a look of surprised relief suffuses his face.

LTD'L: The throbbing! I-it's Gone.....! How can I ever thank you? (He addresses Sir Guy) Don't just stand there! Help this man up! Fetch him wine!

Sir Guy complies

DW: Oh, there's really no need to thank me... Actually....there is one small thing you could do for me...

LTD'L: Name it!

DW: My companion is lost somewhere in the woods....perhaps I could borrow a few of your chaps to go help find her...?

LTD'L: Of course! Sir Guy! Form a search party, and assist the Doctor in any way you can.

SGDR: At once, My good Lord!

The Doctor, Sir Guy and a bunch of extras depart to look for Peri. No sooner have they left than in bursts Sir Eckbert.

SEU: My Lord! The Grand Wizard Blogggaz requests that he be allowed to interrogate your prisoner.

LTD'L: How does he even know I have a prisoner?

SEU: Well, he is a wizard....

LTD'L: That's as maybe, but I'm afraid he's bang out of luck. The prisoner has just departed with Sir Guy.

Sir Eckbert departs swiftly muttering 'state of this' under his breath.

CUT TO EXT: More Woods. Peri is still wandering aimlessly. By sheer luck, she stumbles across the clearing in which the odd, three-legged castle is situated. She starts talking to herself.

Peri: I'm lost, tired and stranded... again. I wonder if there's anyone here who can help me.

She wanders up to what looks like a door in the base of one of the three legs. She taps on it gingerly....it opens by itself....she wanders in....

Peri: Hello? Anyone there....?

The door closes silently and automatically behind her....

CUT TO INT: Some hastily cobbled together hallways painted to look like old brickwork, the odd flickering torch and of course one suit of armour.

Peri proceeds to investigate with caution. She is oblivious to the hooded and stooped figure stalking her despite the frantic warnings from the incidental music. At last she comes to the great hall, and is drawn toward the curtained section, something moves behind it. Tension mounts as despite the screams of all logic and reason to leave well alone, she pulls back the curtain.

In a moment of supreme anti-climax the camera switches to a static shot of the Sheffield 78.

Peri is relieved by the discovery.

Peri: Ha, Scotland it is then.

Behind her the hood figure looms, finally she turns alerted to its presence.

Peri: Who are you?

HF: One might well ask the same question of you my dear, being as this is my home and you have entered uninvited therein, herein,,, therein.

Peri: Oh I sorry. My name is Peri, I'm lost and came here looking for help after I was attacked in the woods by some, junkies I supposed they must have been.

HF: Junkies?

Peri: Yes, and they have the Doctor.

HF: Doctor?

Peri: Who knows what they plan on doing to him. They're probably off their noggins on crack pipes of something.

HF: Pipes?

Peri: Or something.

HF: Don't worry my child, I think I know the Serf Scum you mean, I'll have my best men search for this Doctor fellow, and bring him back here... Meanwhile let us find you some refreshments. You must be shaken after your ordeal.

Peri: That's very kind of you, eh, what's your name again?

HF: I am Grand Wizard Bloggaz!

He leads her away, rubbing his hands unpleasantly. The camera pans back to the spoon, and we hear the fading conversation continue off camera.

Peri: Shouldn't we phone the police?

GWB: Phone?

Peri: A-and what's so special about that spoon?

GWB: Oh nothing, it's just a family heirloom. It is of.... sentimental value, nothing more.

As the voices fade into the distance the spoon is seen to wobble, this is accompanied by a single jarring chord.

CUT TO EXT: Woods, not unlike the ones seen before. The Doctor and a few extra meander about in an ineffective search pattern.

DW: Peri! Peri! It's all right you can come out now. We've sorted everything out – they're really a very decent bunch once you get to know them... Peri!

Cut to new POV. In the foreground we see the same blurry arm and shoulder from the previous episode. There's that heavy laboured breathing again.

Cut back to the Doctor. He's given up any pretense to looking for Peri and is playing with his yoyo. Some of Thomas D'Lerious men look on awestruck.

Generic Figure #1: Tis sorcery!

DW: Oh not really, just tremendous amounts of skill that's all.

GF #2: Nay. Tis magical indeed, perhaps enough to rival the Grand Wizard Blogggaz what plagues our lands this last five and Twifty years.

DW: Interesting. Do tell me more about this Blog-g-gahhhs..

Cut back to POV of the observer/stalker. There is the classic twig snapping sound effect and the camera pans madly around to show Sir Guy, pointing his sword menacingly and grinning.

SG: Yield or die you scoundrel!

He lunges before all options can be considered.

Scoundrel: urahhhharrghhh!  Uhhh.

Camera fads to black, with one final ill timed "uuurrhhhhh"

Cut to Doctor applying a sling to the bandaged arm of a glum looking peasant. Sir Guy stands nearby looking unhappy.

DW: You should be alright, apart from the gangrene... now who are you and why have you been spying on us.

Scoundrel: Thay's call me Tom Riflebutt. I used to be the Millar at Upper Dunstpilfor... till we waz ordered to the castle of the Grand Wizard Blogggarse.

Cue disturbed murmurings from the rest of the extras

TR: We waz herded into his gaff like we waz cattle.... and his men butchered every last won of uz... sept me. I managed to escape buy hiding behind a torch an then legging it. I've been hidin' art in this ere wards effer sense.

Despite his wildly varying accent his words cause great excitement. At least one non actor can he heard saying 'I fucking knew it.'

DW: But why? Why would anyone do such a diabolical thing? Eh?

TR: they never telt us... but I heard one of em. Hooded bloke he were, talking to Sir Eckbert Unche about a spoon of great power, needin' sacrifices.

DW (looking stunned): Spoon of great power?

SG: Surely we cannot believe such a wastrel Doctor?

TR (protesting): Tis all truth wot I speak eth!

SG (red faced with anger): Get whipped you scum!

Just as things are about to degenerate – things degenerate as one of the extras is shot in the neck with an arrow. As he finds a safe spot to fall dead on various blood curdling cries go up as Sir Eckbert Unche and a dozen or so men fall upon Sir Guy and his men.

In the lazy and inept swordplay that follows the Doctor and Tom make their escape. When at one point they are confronted by a sword wielding jobbing actor the Doctor uses his scarf to lasso the weapon from the man's grip. He flees crying.

DW: Buffalo Bill taught me that little trick... or was it Billy Smarts circus??

TR: Where to now Doctor?

DW: We need to head to Blogggaz castle... I've a horrible feeling I know what I'll find there... oh and Peri of course – but that's a different horrible feeling altogether. A ha ha HAAA!

CUT TO EXT: Yet More Woods. The Doctor and Tom enter the clearing in which Blogggaz' castle is located. If you squint, you can just about make out the traffic speeding up the M1, in the far distance.

Tom (gesturing towards the castle): Yarp! Thare it be, Doctor...caaaarstle of Grand Wizard Blogggaz....may the devil curse his bones!

DW: Yeeeeearse, I see! Tell me, Tom, was no-one ever puzzled by the curious three-legged design of the castle?

Tom: Not I, Doctor, but then I am no more than an ignorant peasant, not well acquainted with the architecture or aesthetic sensibilities of my betters... bejebus..

DW: Clearly....but what would you say if I told you that it's not a castle at all, but a Ploo-Loogian Class 84 Interstellar Battle-Schooner, upgraded with tri-axially redundant landing podules? Eh? Speak up, man!

Tom: S'blood. I would say firstly that I don't have the merest conception of any aspect of space travel, since a scientifically accurate model of outer space has not yet been established, what with this being Medieval England (or possibly 21st Century England (or maybe 22nd Century Scotland)) an' all, hence your question is frankly unfair. Secondly, even if I was aware of the advanced engineering techniques required for interstellar travel, I'd still contend that what you just said was a load of old horse droppings. Elsewise thaahs wot I thanksss.

DW: There's more than you to meet the eye Tom. What an astute fellow you are! You'll need all of those smarts to stay alive when we challenge Blogggaz on his home turf! Come along!

The Doctor sets off at a brisk pace towards the Battle-Schooner.

Tom: Where are we going?

DW (Calling back from over his shoulder): To challenge Blogggaz on his home turf!

CUT TO INT: Castle/Battle-Schooner. Some kind of living-quarters. The same suit of armour that was in the corridor has been hastily repositioned into this room. Peri is sitting in an elaborate, old fashioned leather chair. Blogggaz is hunched over what appears to be some advanced scientific instrument. He presses a button on the instrument....its lid flips open, and from its interior rises a tray of drinks.

Blogggaz: Would you care for a glass of wine, my dear?

Peri (wrinkling her nose): Got any WKD Blue?

Blogggaz (somewhat taken aback): Errrr.....no.....'fraid not. How about the fermented lacrimal fluids of the Rigellian Skvvvk Beast? I think you'll find it a most.........."refreshing" beverage.

Peri: Oh, OK then, I'll give it a whirl.

Blogggaz pours her a glass. The drink is bright green, and steams furiously. The visual clues fail to concern Peri, who wolfs it all down in one go.

Peri: Hmmmm.....not bad, I suppose...tastes a bit like vodka and Lemsip.

The conversation lulls. Blogggaz is clearly waiting for something to happen, but nothing does...he starts to get a bit rattled...

Blogggaz: How about another? I've got a range of exquisite drinks from all parts of the 9 Galaxies...I'd strongly recommend the Andromedian Berry-Spooge.

Without waiting for a reply, he pours her a glass....it's a gloopy purple liquid this time. Peri again necks the whole lot in one.

The scene fades to black, and then fades back in again almost immediately, signaling the passing of time. The room is now strewn with a vast array of empty bottles and glasses, all presumably quaffed by Peri, who is exhibiting no ill effects whatsoever. Blogggaz is becoming increasingly exasperated.

Blogggaz: This is astounding! I had no idea you humans were so resilient to intoxi-faction! You've cleaned out my entire collection! All I've got left is this spiced, orange beverage from the Crabbie Nebula.

Without waiting to be asked, Peri swipes the bottle from his hand, and gulps it down in under three seconds.

Peri: Ahhhh! You're right, that was pretty refreshing!

Peri lets out the most almighty belch, and has a right old laugh... Blogggaz is less amused.

Blogggaz: Someone ought to give you a lesson in good manners, young lady!

The prospect of any kind of "lesson" is too overwhelming for Peri's youthful brain, and she immediately lapses into unconsciousness.

Blogggaz: Finally I'd better get her hooked up to the blood draining apparatus.

He busies himself with attaching Peri to the machine. The oversize-thermometer thing is hovering perilously close to "target" level.... Blogggaz is just about the flip the "on" switch on the blood draining machine, when he is interrupted by a knock on the external airlock of his space ship...

DW (through the door): Hello, there...? Anybody at home? I'm not a Jehovah's Witness, you know...I wish to speak to Grand Wizard Blogggaz, under a flag of truce.

Blogggaz (whispering to himself): Ahhhhhh Dok-Torr I may have need for your superior Time Lord intellect when it comes to controlling The Spoon....yes.....perhaps I will spare your life.....for the time being.....A-ha....A-hahahahahahahaHAHAHAAAA!!!!

CUT TO EXT: Castle/Spaceship. The Doctor is getting impatient

DW (addressing Tom): I don't think he's going to let us in, you know....maybe he's taking a....

The Door/airlock suddenly and alarmingly springs open.

Tom: I think I've just joined him.....

DW: Good for you! Come along! The Doctor vanishes inside...a reluctant Tom follows him...

The Doctor and Tom find their way into Blogggaz' chamber...it's apparently deserted, apart from the still unconscious Peri, lying on the medical couch of the blood draining machine.

DW: Ah, there you are girl! Come along now, there's no time for slouching around, there's work to be done!

Suddenly, a fully be-hooded Blogggaz emerges from a shadowy corner, where's he's remained unseen until now.

Blogggaz: Greetings, Dok-Torr!

At this sudden apparition, the already jumpy Tom shrieks and cowers backwards, in the process knocking the "on" switch of the blood draining machine with his elbow (on the second attempt).

The blood draining machine whirs into life...various transparent plastic tubes filled with some kind of red liquid attempt to convey the impression of blood being pumped from Peri's arteries....the oversize thermometer pings to "target" level almost immediately.

The curtain covering the alcove in which the unimpressive looking spoon is located falls away.......party-poppers automatically go off, and a couple of balloons fall from the ceiling......more alarmingly, the unimpressive spoon starts to vibrate, glow green and expand in size.

Blogggaz(fist pumping): Yuussss! Witness, Dok-Torr, the awesome power of the Spoon of PahhRaxis!

DW: So it IS the Sp'yune of PahhRaxis....I rather suspected it might be.... but then again, I thought there was at least a possibility that it mightn't be, since I was there when the Galactic Council took it into their possession.

Blogggaz: Those fools screwed up. I was able to escape and recover a small fragment of the Spoon of PahhRaxis consciousness that resided in that insignificant Sheffield teaspoon. I have been nurturing it back to full health through nefarious means, black magic and blood sacrifice.

All the while, the Spoon of PahhRaxis continues to grow...so much so that it starts to burst out of it's alcove.

Blogggaz: Something is wrong! The Spoon is absorbing too much energy!

The Doctor studies the read-out of the blood draining machine.

DW: I'm not surprised....the last sample of blood you gave it contained an impressive alcohol level of 1007 ml/litre....(he looks over at Peri)... Ahhh yes, I see it came from my thirsty young friend.

Blogggaz: But it will soon grow so large that it will crush us...!!!

All concerned cower in the corner of the room screaming.

END OF EPISODE 2

It's dawned on me that there are references to spoons made in Sheffield. Given that this was drafted years ago I'm going to put this down to extraordinary levels of prescience on my part.

[Spoon of Ploff]

following on from the disappointment of Chibbers Dr WHO I bring you...

DR WHO AND THE SPOON OF PAHHRAXIS EPISODE 3

INT SHOT: Blogggaz chamber. The Doctor, Blogggaz and a barely conscious Piri are once again seen cowering from an enlarged and glowing Spoon, which advances upon them slowly.

Suddenly Sir Eckbert Unche prances into the room, grinning triumphantly and failing, somehow to notice the large spoon.

EU: My lord Blogggaz, we have crushed the Barons forces, we – ARRRHRRHHHGHHHH, urrh (ar)!

The spoon falls upon the Earl and cracks him open in a way reminiscent of a teaspoon cracking a hardboiled egg.

DW: Rassilon in shitty napkins!

Peri (coming round): whah happring?

The spoon resumes it menacing approach, but just as it appears our eponymous heroes are about to suffer the same fate as Unche it staggers back, stumbles around for a bit, lets out one enormous belch vomits some green and crashes to the floor, mumbling to itself in some alien tongue. It also begins to shrink back to normal size, thus saving on further special effects costs.

Peri: Wait, are we still in Scotland? Ahh my head, I think that bloke spiked my drinks.

DW: Never mind that now, Blogggaz – now where has that fellow got to?

Peri notices the gruesome corpse of Sir Eckbert Unche, and lets out an unconvincing yelp. The Doctor approaches the now inert spoon cautiously.

DW: Seems to have been inebriated... Of course!

He strikes a pose, staring just passed the camera lens

DW: The Spoon of PahhRaxis clearly can't handle its drink, and has shutdown as a defensive reflex. Peri your boarder line alcoholism has just saved our lives... again.

Peri: Well thanks, I think. But what is this Spoon of Paralysis that which of you speak?

DW: A source of almost pure evil, created millennia ago by the Gourd Faced people of GalFraxia Six, forged in the ice flames of Proxy Nine that were fueled by the feces of the great beast of O'WatfordGapnasm,,, which was feed on nothing but the screams of the tortured races of the seven conquered Systems of –

Peri: Yeah, it's bad. I get it.

DW: I first encountered it in Spon End, Coventry. It had lain dormant for centuries only to be awakened by the nondescript curator of a spoon museum.

Peri: When was this Doctor

DW (grinning dangerously): Oh, somewhen in the future... before your time my dear

Peri: Well, it seems harmless enough now, how do we kill it?

DW: Kill it? What do you take me for? I don't know what sort of adventures you had with those other incarnations, (at this point Peri grimaces and rubs her neck) but that's not how I do things I can assure you. The spoon was to be taken to the Galactic council –

Peri: Galactic? Never heard of it

DW: Why doesn't that surprise me?

At this point Tom Rifflebutt, who everyone including the writers had forgotten about, steps forward. His fake yokel accent is gone, replaced by a fake Alien accent instead.

TR: The Gel-ark-tic Count-cel iz the own-lee force off Juurh-stice een da You-nee-verse thit kan alti-mately contain the Spoon.

Peri: who's this comedian again?

TR: I aim Blerfwyn, I half bin searching for da spun, eever since eet waz lost.

DW: Riiight.

Peri: well, there it is, get to it.

Suddenly the entire set starts to rock. Our characters flail about in an inspired fashion, as if they'd been instructed on how to perform this feat through repeats of classic StarTrek.

Blerf: Oh no. Blogggarz must been attempting to start up this space vessel that's been disguised as a castle if you remember from before.

CUT TO EXT: and the aftermath of the off camera battle scene between the Eckbert's men and Guys men. A mortally wounded Guy is crawling about in pain. In the background a badly rendered castle on three legs begins to shake, with curled smoke coming from its three legs.

SG: What is this new devilry?

Brickwork falls from the model of the castle, revealing a shiny looking craft with a few flashing lights thrown in for good measure. It proceeds to take off awkwardly as if lifted by someone pulling on bits of string. Fireworks spark at the base of each of the three legs.

SG: Bless me, uhhhhhhggh,., ghh.... .

He dies.

CUT TO INT: Blogggaz space vessel: Blogggaz is in the control room, at the helm. He has been observing the Doctors conversation via a monitor. He starts monologing...

Blogggaz: So! Blerfwyn, my old nemesis- you survived. Not only that, you have the audacity to turn up just as my plan is about to come to fruition. Still, no matter....it will simply add relish to the act of killing you once and for all! Haaaaaaaaarrrrrrr HAAAAAAAARRRRRRR HHHHAAAARR!!!!

But first, I must retrieve the Spoon!

He moves to a different chair....this one has a kind of cowl attachment for the sitter's head...the cowl looks like a plastic colander painted silver. Blogggaz presses a few buttons on a panel on the arm of the chair...too hard....the whole panel wobbles alarmingly, but luckily doesn't break.

Blogggaz (cryptically): Contact established!

CUT TO INT: The Great Hall. The Doctor and Blerfwyn are engaged in animated discussion. Peri is draining the remaining dregs of all the alcohol bottles into a single glass.

Blerfwyn: Ve must contact ze Kalaktik Kouncil as zoon as pozzible....if not zooner! Only zay can safely contain ze Zpoon ov ParrrhhRaxis!!!

DW: Yes, yes, of course....but our first priority must be to ascertain exactly what Blogggaz is up to, and stop him. I think we can safely assume that his motives are evil....after all it's incredibly unlikely he plans to use the Sp'yune to build a space orphanage, or something like that....

They continue to rabbit on at each other for a few moments....suddenly they are interrupted by loud creaking noise, not dissimilar to a high pitched fart....The Doctor shoots a suspicious glance at Blerfwyn, but doesn't mention anything....He continues.

DW:.....errrr....anyway, as I was saying, we could try reasoning with Blogggaz before concluding that he's completely bonkers and killing him....

There's yet another creaking/farting. This time it's apparent that it's coming from the suit of armor... it's limbs are slowly starting to move and creaking due to lack of oil.....because it's not a suit of armor at all, but a god damn robot!!!!!! One that is being remotely controlled by Blogggaz.

Blerfwyn: Zhitting Krikey!! Vat iz dis....???

DW (grimly): Unless I'm very much mistaken (and let's face it, I rarely am...), it's an Akka-Neem-Nop Heavy Combat Droid, programmed with level 7 AI-psychopathic response simulations, and in-built blade weaponry.

As if on cue, plates on the robot's forearms open up, and out slide large, cruel looking knives. The robot steps down from it's pedestal and starts advancing menacingly on Peri. Peri appears transfixed with terror. Blerfwyn reacts first, and manages to snatch Peri out of the path of the advancing robot.... The robot continues on the same course, oblivious to Peri, since it was actually making for the Spoon of PahhRaxis, still lying forgotten in the corner behind where she had been.

The robot snatches up the Spoon, and lumbers out of the room towards the bridge of the spaceship.

DW: Well, that's a bit of a bugger!

CUT TO INT: Control room. The robot delivers the Spoon to the waiting Blogggaz.

Blogggaz: Well done, robot! There'll be an extra helping of diodes in your pay packet this month!

Robot (in the voice of Alan Tichmarsh): Ooh! Ta very much!

Blogggaz: Now all I have to do is wait for the Spoon to recover from it's alcoholic stupor, and I can carry out my evil plan, which I will now elaborate on. I will launch the Spoon into the Earth's sun. The Temporal Peculiarity Field of the Spoon, when subjected to the extreme temperatures and pressures of the sun's core will cause the sun to implode into some  queer dimensional state, turning it into an inside out cube.

Of course, it will mean the end of all life on Earth, but.. well... fuck it. And since the Earth will cease to exist in the Middle Ages the events of the Spon End Spoon Museum will not be able to occur in the 21st century... even though they're did so earlier Spoon's time line. Meaning... ehhhh.  Wait a minute... Um.

Whilst he's thinking about this, a blip of light has appeared on a screen behind him....the blip becomes two...and then several....rather belatedly, the ship's computer issues an audible warning. Blogggaz whirls round and clocks the blips.

Blogggaz: Curses! Galactic Council vessels! That devious bastard Blerfwyn must have some kind of homing beacon on him!

The ship-to-ship communication system comes on...a voice comes out of a speaker.

Speaker Voice: Gazblogg....? Come in Gazblogg! Zis is Keptain Frumptus of ze Kalaktik Kounzil Wessel "Butt-Kicker". Ve know you havv ze Zpoon ov PahhRaxis aboard. Zurrender immediately, unt prepare to be boarded.

Blogggaz: Cock Off! If I can't have the Spoon, then no-one will!

Blogggaz flips a few switches on the control panel....the whole room begins to vibrate slightly, as if the ship is changing course and accelerating....

CUT TO INT: The Great Hall. The vibration is also felt in the Great Hall...The Doctor, Blerfwyn and Peri look at one another nervously

Peri: What's that, Doctor?

DW: What's what?

Peri: Oh, don't start all that again! What's that vibration?

DW: I'd say that we've changed course, and sped up...I wonder whyyy...

Blerfwyn: Yas, I agree Doctor....I haff a nazty feeling that ve are heading towards a black houle. I zuzpect that Blogggaz intends to destroy ze Zpoon, unt uz along wizz it...!

Crash Zoom on The Doctors face.

DW: That's not good. Not good at all!

END OF EPISODE 3

[Spoon of Ploff]

DR WHO AND THE SP'YUNE OF PAHHRAXIS EPISODE FOUR THE CONCLUSION

EXT SHOT: Space. Several model space craft are being pulled left to right against a black background with a few pin pricks of light signifying stars. A button flashes at the bottom of the screen. Next to it are the words "Switch to Enhanced CGI effects now"

On pressing the button, basic computer renderings of the craft replace the models, all a bit disappointing really.

CUT TO EXT: Space elsewhere. A round spiny thing that looks like sand disappearing down a funnel is superimposed on the black background. The vessels appear to be heading t'ward it.

CUT TO INT: Flight Deck of the Butt-Kicker. It's sparsely furnished to say the most. A few wooden desks and chairs have been painted white, most of the controls look drawn on. The crew are dressed in bin liners spayed silver. In a slightly posher chair sits Keptain Frumptus.

KF: Vot ess the full doing heading struh-rate fur thet blik hull?

Some anonymous crew member pipes up.

ACM: Sir I have a communiqué from the captain of the Sizeable Leverage. He says, at this rate we will be caught by the black hwhole's gravitation pull in less than eight parsecs to the ninth. We must desist from our pursuit.

KF: Damp't! Damp't to Hades! (He leans forward to speak into an inverted lamp stand, misreading from the script notes written there) Frumptus to fleet. Okay give the order to all the fleet. Reverse course now. (He thumps the desk in frustration) Are sis!!

CUT OT INT: Gazblogg's vessel, and the man himself.

Gazblogg: Ha! The cowards!

A light bulb just to his right begins to flash. He responds by pressing a random stud on the chair arm.

Gazblogg: What is it dock-tor? I am somewhat busy right now, so if you are impatient to die then be my guest and throw yourself out of the airlock. Aha, aha ha ha!

CUT TO INT: Great Hall. The doctor has found the intercom.

DW: Listen Gazblogg, you can't seriously be planning to enter a black hole, you'd have to be mad as an Ice Warrior on Crystal Meth to try something like that.

He winces at the cackling that is Gazblogg's reply.

DW (turning to Peri and Blerfwyn): I guess he really is that cracked in the brain pan.

The ominous sounds of a vessel under duress signify the end is near.

CUT TO EXT: Space. The lead model space craft disappears into the spiny thing. The music is dramatic in its attempts to make up for the bad visual effect.

CUT TO INT: Control Room. Glazzblog is seen writhing in his chair at the camera pulls focus on a continuous loop. There appear to be disco lights behind him and a tremendous amount of lens flare.

Glazzblog: Arrrhhhhhhha hhhhh ggghhhhhh

CUT TO INT: Great Hall. Much the same is going on. A trio of gurning faces fall in and out of focus.

DW: Arrrhhhhh

Peri: Arrrhhhhhhahhhh

Blerfwyn: Uuhhhhhhhhh

The picture begins to warp and swirl in on itself. We see a series of morphing images.

Blerfwyn (face twisted into a still of Johnny Morris, wearing his zoo keepers cap): Nooooo!

Peri (face dissolving and reforming as Bonnie Langford): The horror!

DW (face flipping inside out to become Sylvester McCoy): Ace Holes!!

Gazblogg (shape shifts into Darth Vader): I find your lack of faith disturbing...

Robot Thing (turns into Metal Micky): Ghaaaaaahzzz

Spoon of PahhRaxis (turning inside out): eeeeeeeeeeeeee


And then everything goes back to normal.

CUT TO INT: The Great Hall: When the last warning siren dies down, everyone stands around wondering what to do next.

Peri: Ah we... dead?

Blerfwyn: Could we really have survived entry into a black hole...? Doctor?

DW: In theory... almost certainly no. Steven Hawkins would be having a fit right now if he'd been here to witness this, and, well, can someone have a fit if they can't move I dunno, although he can do the blinky thing can't he? Perhaps he could have a blink fit?

Peri: Doctor, you're straying off topic again. Is it really possible that we have traversed a black hole, and entered some sort of alternative universe?

DW: You'd like that wouldn't you my dear? One where a once favourite family show doesn't get cancelled for being utterly rubbish, killing certain peoples careers stone dead?

Peri: Well, that's neither here nor there –

DW (cutting her off with a waving motion): My Gravy that's it Peri! You've hit the nail on the head once again.

Peri: I have?

DW: Don't you see, at this precise moment, we're neither here nor there.

Blerfwyn: eh?

DW: Oh people please it's obvious. Our journey through the black hole is not complete. Oh but this is horrible! (His freakish grin is at odds with this statement). There are only two possible explanations for why we're having this conversation on board this ship and not at the gates of Val Halla!

Peri (agitation growing): And they are..?

DW: One – that wasn't an actual black hole Peri, just a very very very very dark mauve one.

Peri: Is there such a thing as a dark mauve hole in space.

DW: Not to my knowledge there isn't.

Blerfwyn: So in actual fact there's just one possible explanation?

DW: Well yes, if you want to be pedantic about it. The second and only explanation is that we've somehow been caught in an information eddy, right at the advent horizon of the black hole. We could be stuck here forever, or sucked off at any moment.

CUT TO EXT: Space, where yes indeed the model space ship is stuck in the middle of a patch of sand at the edge of the swirly thing.


SPOON OF PAHHRAXIS II – PART FOUR - "THE LAST BIT" - VIEWER NUMBERS 3.1 MILLION (DOWN 7.3% ON LAST WEEK'S EPISODE)


DW: ...that we've somehow been caught in an information eddy, right at the advent horizon of the black hole. We could be stuck here forever, or sucked off at any moment.

CUT TO INT: Great Hall, the Doctor has removed two Jelly Babies from his bag of sweets and is conducting a conversation with them.

JB1 Purple (high pitched squeaky tom baker voice): But how is this possible?

JB2 Green (low pitched authoritative voice): And more importantly how do we escape?

Peri: ehhh...

JB1: What if we reverse thrusters Doctor?

JB2: Don't be foolish, even if this ship has the power to pull us clear of the information eddy we will still fall into the black hole, and our almost certain dooooooom.

Blerf: Eh Doktor, veer just heer you know

DW: Shhh! You're right Jelly Baby number two, and so...

He returns the purple jelly baby to the bag, and consumes the green one.

JB2 (disconcerting scream): whhhhhyyyyyyyiiieeeeee?

DW (turning to the justifiably worried companions): Now then, the most important thing right now is to reach Blogz –

Blerf: you min Gazblogg

DW: Yeah, whatever, reach him and take back the spoon. Now that his plan to drive the spaceship into the black hole has been thwarted he will most likely make for the airlock and launch himself into space, taking the spy-une with him.

Blerf: wudn't thet destroy the spun in da process? Vi knot led him?

DW: spun?

Blerf: Sp'yune?

DW: Spon?

Blerf: Spewn?

DW: Spam?

Peri: Oh for f –

CUT TO INT: Flight Deck (whatever). Gazblogg is coming round. He presses a few random buttons and curses under his breath, and then proceeds to spell out his contingency plan to no one in particular, unless you consider the Alan Titmarsh robot slouching in a corner.

Glazblogg: Now that my plan to drive the spaceship into the black hole has been thwarted I should most likely make for the airlock and lunch myself into space, taking the spy-une with me. It willll bee..... a glorious death.

He grabs the inert spoon and heads for the exit (oddly marked EXIT in green lettering). On his way out he addresses the robot armour suit.

Glazblogg: Come on Dumpies Rusty Nuts, you too. I need you to stop that meddling Doctor and his interfering friend, and that hindering K hole Blerfwyn if they attempt to.... get. In. My. Way.

Swift cut through various scenes of the Glazblogg party and Doctor Who party moving rapidly through what is probably the same bit of corridor slightly redressed and lit differently each time. The incidental music informs us that this is a particularly tense moment in the plot.

CUT TO INT: Large white room with a big garage like door at one end. The word AIR LOG is stenciled across it. The Words "Crossditches Garage MOTs and REPAIRS" can be made out through a fresh coat of cheap matte paint.

Glazblogg's party is the first to arrive, swiftly followed by the Doctor

DW: Give it up Glazblogg, it over, finished, last orders, time... gentlemen... please, the fat lady is singing, it's the final cut so it is, done with, curtains, role credits and take your uneaten popcorn with you you heathen prols... End of the line Glazzers, the last buttered scone has been eaten the wine glass empty, the summer rain has begun to fall and we've to return to the pavilion... do you see? Do you?

Blerf: Hund et offer you can't

Glazzblogg: Never! Get them my faithful robot, kill them without mercy!!

Robot (advancing menacingly): Ta very much! Ta very much! Ta very much!

The doctor, Peri, and now noticeably useless Blerf back away.

Glazzblogg: Aha ha haaaah!

Peri: Oh no! What are we going to dooo?

DW: Now that I think about it, the Akka-Neem-Nop Heavy Combat Droid, programmed with level 7 AI-psychopathic response simulations, and in-built blade weaponry, has one major floor.
He retrieves the jelly baby he saved earlier.

DW (addressing said confectionary): sorry old friend, but needs must what.

He rolls the sweet in front of the advancing suit of armour which promptly does a banana peel-esc slip, landing on its arse, and after an unsubtle jump cut falling apart in the process with a few electrical pops and sparks that convince no one.

DW (grinning from ear to ear, and beyond): It suffers from poor balance

Glazzblogg: Curses! But it's too late Dok-torah, you have failed in your attempts to stop me!

He punches a large red button next to the garage doors, which squeak open revealing the heart of the spiny thing, beckoning them all to their destruction. The superimposition is not good, and half of Glazzblogg's leg appears to have gone missing.

Glazzblogg: All I have to do now is step through the force field and-

It is at this point that a fed up Peri decides enough is enough. She penalty kicks the downed robots head which hits the evil villain square in the nads.

Glazzblogg: Fahhhhhh!

He staggers backwards through the force field and out of the ship.

Peri (smug): Jobs a good 'un

DW: You idiot! He still has the spoon!

Peri: So?

DW (removing his scarf): There's no telling what affect the black hole will have on that spy'une! It could increase its powers exponentially. It could be – well... it could be. Here' hold this.

The Doctor hands a corner of the scarf to Peri, and ties the other end around himself, then throws himself out the airlock

DW (chanting the theme tune as a battle cry): dah dah dah dah..! Dah dah dah dah..!

CUT TO EXT: Space: A scene of appalling special effects follows. The Doctor approaches Glazzblogg slowly, both are suspended on clearly visible harnesses, they move their limbs in slow motion to signify weightlessness.

CUT TO EXT: Space: Close up of the doctor's scarf. We see that it's unravelling, extending its length and anchoring him to the ship.

CUT TO EXT: Space: The Doctor bitch slaps Glazzblogg a few times and grabs the spoon from the villain. They grapple for the prize. Glazzblogg eventually wins it back.

Glazzblogg: Pyrrhic victory!

He falls into the black hole. The doctor is left hanging by a thread (literally), a toothy grimace on his face.

From the centre of the swirly thing that has just swallowed Glazzblogg a light appears. The light grows in intensity, and starts to coalesce into a figure....the figure eventually resolves.....it's a full body-shot of Stephen Hawking, completely surrounded by a bright, white aura....he's grinning his customary loopy grin (possibly just a hint of drool coming from the corner of his mouth). In a scene rich with heavily laboured imagery, he is stirring a cup (labelled "The Cosmos") of coffee with the spoon of PahhRaxis. The bright, white aura continues to expand, accompanied by a "whooshing" sound.

DW: Eh?

Eventually, the whole scene fades to white. We fade back in....

CUT TO INT: Space Ship hanger. The Doctor (returned somehow), Peri, and Blerfwyn have been rendered unconscious, but are just starting to recover. An exterior shot reveals that Gazblogg's spaceship is still near the black hole, but a safe distance away. Vessels of the Galactic Council are closing in fast.

DW: Well that was something eh? Eh?

CUT TO INT: Space Ship. The Great Hall. Some time has passed and the Doctor, Peri, Berf, and various bin liner clad members of the Galactic Council troops are gathered. Captain Keptain Frumptus wanders onto set.

KF: Yow haf are gratitude dok-tor.

DW (very pleased with himself): Oh that's quite all right old chap.

KF: Now, ef you wud be so gut as to hend offer the spun, way well take it from hair

The Doctor slowly produces the spoon from his coat pocket, it looks like a normal Sheffield 78. He holds it aloft.

Assorted Galactic Council cronies (awed): Ohhhhhhhhhh!

He hands the spoon to Frumptus, who very carefully places it in what looks like (and is) a Tupperware container painted green.

KF: Thit shud kep it contained until we can bring it befour tha count-cil.

DW: Excellent, now if you could just drop myself and my lovely companion back on earth we'll be on our merry way.

CUT TO EXT: The village of Lower Dunstpilfor on Gloming. The Doctor and Peri waving at a badly rendered space craft rising into the sky. Smiling they head back into the Tardis

TARDIS: nnnnnahhhhhhrrr, nnnnnahhhhhhrrr, nnnnnnnahhhhhrrr

As the tardis vanishes we see a peasant interrupted midway through taking a piss against the side of the famous old police box. He stands bemused soaking his legs and feet in urine. He is wearing a Man Utd FC shirt.

CUT TO INT: Tardis. The doctor is looking despondently at the pile of unravelled wool that used to be his scarf.

Peri: Well, that was interesting I suppose. Do you think the Galactic Council will be able to handle the Spoon of PahhRaxis doctor?

DW: Oh I doubt it, bunch of bureaucratic numbskulls with bad accents. They don't stand a chance.

Peri: Why give them the spoon then? You don't seem too concerned.

DW (yet another grinning opportunity): I didn't

Peri: Whaaaaa!!?

DW: I gave them an actual Sheffield 78, and they couldn't even tell the difference. Here's the real PahhRaxis

He brings out the actual spoon of PahhRaxis from another pocket. It glints green.

Peri: But – you – what – are you mad? We can't keep it with us!

DW: Don't worry old gal. There is only one man in the known universe who we can entrust with the guarding of this spoon. A man who has faced the spy'une at its most powerful evilness and lived. A man of such high morals, and standards, of devotion to his task and dedication to his duty and devotion to boot.

Peri: Oh yes, and who might that be.

DW: You'll see.

He pockets the spoon with a disturbing lack of care.

DW: Now in the meantime there's an important task for you to perform.

Peri: Oh god, not that again –

DW: No, not that. Here...

He gathers up the wreckage that was once his scarf, and throws it at his companion.

DW: Be a good girl and knit me a new one would you?

This is seen as somehow acceptable by the BBC.

CUT TO EXT: A Street, a sign reveals it to be Spon End. Tardis materialising noises can be heard in the background.

CUT TO EXT: Front entrance of a museum. A sign on the door reads "Don Swa'hallen Presents The Spoon Museum" with a list of opening times and prices. The Doctor approaches and casually posts the Spoon of PahhRaxis through the letter box. As he walks away he stops suddenly, a thought has struck him.

DW: Wwwait a minute, what year is this? I wouldn't want to create a temporal loop of some kind by posting this artefact before it was first supposed to appear... Ah sod it I'm sure it'll work out all right in the end. These things usually do. Ahaa ha aha ha haaa heee.

Roll Credits.

The Lost WHO Scripts will return to H.S.Art in 2021