Doctor, wherever, whenever you are — pay close attention now, ‘cause this is a postcard from the past. Do not ask how on Earth did the Tylers manage to breach the void and end up here without causing the end of the world (we don’t know that either, and the more questions we ask, the clearer it becomes they’re not so sure themselves) or why is a fairly startled Jackie staring somewhere awfully far from where she’s supposed to (this was the only photo Jack accepted, he apparently looked hot enough so yeah, there’s that) or what’s the meaning behind our little festive decorations (we think you have a pretty good idea, actually) or are the ball bearings edible (yes, says Rose, she has checked) or how do we know when is your birthday (you told us. The single-hearted you. He’s really quite obsessed with the abundant amounts of candles).
Because the point is, it is your birthday and even though we have no idea which one exactly and no idea where you are or what you’re currently feeling like (we hope you’re not sad), we still want you to know there’s still a bunch of fairly crazy and potentially jeopardy-friendly humans somewhere, somewhen in the Universe who love you a lot. Happy Birthday, Doctor!
Signed, respectively: Sarah Jane Smith (the last remnant of sanity), The King and Queen of Pete’s World and the Rest of Everything (why, not pretentious at all), the Intergalactic Princess (don’t even ask), Martha Star Jones-Smith, Mickey Mouse, Everyone’s Favourite Reindeer and, obviously, Jackie.
I finally finished. It’s not even half as good as I would like it to be, but oh well. I hope you enjoy it. And also, I’m still upset I couldn’t include Donna properly.