A STRANGE DOCTOR

a completely alien Dr Who helps out

A STRANGE DOCTOR

The doctor had three eyes and five legs. And he arrived in my bedroom at the crack of dawn, in an old-fashioned police telephone box the sort that used to be scattered throughout the land should a police officer need one and the mobile phone hadn’t been invented.

“Excuse me,” he said in a beautifully modulated voice that didn’t seem to have much to do with his physical appearance and certainly not with the three lips that formed a triangle for his mouth ro rest in, ”I hope I haven’t disturbed you. Could you tell me: is this Earth?

I was not quite dumbstruck, so I replied, “if you mean the planet Earth, yes it is,” I replied, cleverly I thought.

“Oh goody goody gumdrops!” he said, “then let me introduce myself. I’m the doctor.”

“And I’m Sidney Creambridge,” I told him, “and about to get up and get ready for work.”

“Fantastic!” he smiled at me, his lips struggling to find the right shape for a proper smile but his eyes doing their bit to make up for it and succeeding in making him look at least good humoured. Then he added, “would it offend you if I parked my Tardis just here It won’t be for long, and in return I’ll give you s lift to work if you like.”

“The Tardis?” I gawped, “you mean, off the telly?”

“Not exactly. This is the real one,” he said with a reassuring three-lipped grin.

“If you’re anything like the good doctor off the telly then you can move through time in it,” I said, “and that might be a little bit useful.”

“Meaning what, Sidney?” If it was possible for the strange array of facial features that adorned the doctor’s face to form a question mark, then I swear that his did.

I felt a little silly as I told him what had plagued my life from my infancy to that moment, so I might be excused for sounding somewhat hesitant as I began explaining.

“Well,” I said, “I’m sorry if this doesn’t sound like a planet blasting problem, the sort I note from the television you enjoy solving, but it’s been a shadow on my life for as long as I can remember. You see, there was this boy at school…”

He nodded. “I can see where you’re going,” ne murmured, “you want to destroy a bullying individual so that he spends the rest of his days leaving you in peace…” he said.

But that wasn’t exactly what I wanted. “No, I told him firmly, “I don’t want anyone to be destroyed. I just went to see if what has plagued me, all the memories I have of being in the same class as him at school, are true. Maybe if I could assure myself that they are then I might be able to forgive and maybe even forget… after all, he was only a kid!”

“What a decent human being you are,” smiled the weird doctor somehow contriving to do a happy little jig with his five legs. “I tell you what,” he continued, let’s nip back to your past and see what was going on. Does that sound like a plan, or does it not?”

“But can we?” I asked.

“Time and relative dimensions in space. That’s my Tardis! How about you getting out of bed and joining me inside it. I should imagine you’re acquainted with the shock of finding just how big it is once you’ve gone through the door, so don’t let that make you jump.”

I didn’t exactly jump, though to say that inside it was huge is an exaggeration. I got the impression that some doors off the main deck might lead to whole other countries, so “wow,” I almost shouted.

“Now sit yourself down and let me analyse you…” he began, and waved something that looked like a screwdriver in front of me, and because I’ve watched the television version of him and his brilliance I knew it as his sonic screwdriver.

When he’d finished he nodded his head. “Jolly good,” he said, and the entire inside of the Tardis started humming and whirring until it stopped.

That was all that happened, of course, but it was enough to impress me. Then, when everything was sort of still (which it had been all the time but hey, how else can I explain it? A screen on his console started glowing.

And in the light of another place and another time I saw myself, not as I am now, aged thirty-four, but as I was almost thirty years ago.

And there was my arch enemy, shorts with creases so sharp you might cut yourself on them and the unholiest of expressions on what had to be an evil face as I crept up behind the little me and debagged me in one sadistic tug!

Yes! With one expert yank he had my shorts round my knees and I started yelling as if I was facing death. Which I might have been because Mr Harris, the only male teacher in the school, saw me in a state of undress and bellowed for me to go straight to his room. And I knew what was going to happen. I know such punishment was forbidden to teachers even then, but he took a huge slipper from a draw, ordered me to bend low, and smashed it onto my bare bottom.

“That,” growled Mr Harris, “Creambridge, and that’s the daftest name I’ve ever known, is for the despicable behaviour of you exposing your private parts to all the boys and girls in the playground!”

I remembered the occasion as clearly as it ha ppeared on his monitor, and nodded at the Doctor.

“That’s exactly what I remember,” I murmured, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes you are, you poor fellow,” he whispered sympathetically, “and I’ve arranged a little treat for you before I return you to your bedroom. The boy who tormented you is now a highly placed minister in the Government and if news of what we’ve just watched leaks out he’ll have to do quite a lot of explaining.”

“That would be justice,” I agreed, hoping beyond hoping that this wonderful five footed doctor could arrange such a thing

“Do you use the Internet?” he asked, and of course I do. Doesn’t everyone these days?

“Well, that scene, all of it, including the bullying teacher, can now be found just about all over the Internet where it will stay until someone’s bright enough to work out how to delete it, and the bully’s name is already under discussion. You’ll find out when you get back home, And to protect the innocent your own name isn’t so much as whispered. Babby-dabby doo!”

And he tapped a knob on his console and almost immediately I was back in my bedroom.

“Wonderful stuff, time,” he grinned, “there’ no risk of you being late for anything! This is the exact moment that we left for your past! And you know that a certain Government minister is due to get married soon? Well his bride to be has had a special delivery of the bully’s works as well, and, if you don’t mind me saying, she’s a pretty decent young woman...”

© Peter Rogerson 28.07.23

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