dw rewrite

DW rewritten - The Meta-Crisis Tenth Doctor as Eleven’s companion

Human!Ten: Doctor?!
Eleven: Doc – me?!?
Human!Ten: Yes! Oh, brilliant! Look at you. Still tall and gangly as ever. Decent hair, too, but not ginger - Ha! ‘Ello.
Eleven: But…but I don’t remember this. Why don’t I - why don’t we remember this? Your me was a bit flaky, but surely I’d remember talking to a handsome devil in a bow tie.
Human!Ten:  Right, right. Hmm. Welllllll, the TARDIS just broke down…or so, it appears. So isn’t this meeting…handy?
Eleven: You – you’re?!
Human!Ten: Yup-p! *wiggles his right hand* 'Ello! I’m pleased to finally meet me.
Eleven: *stands up straight and pats his clothing* Thoughts?
Human!Ten: Oh, I think it’s brilliant! Or 'fabulous’ rather! Rose thinks I should try using some new words, and Jake suggested 'fabulous.’ Little too, I don’t know…flamboyant for my taste really, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to test it out on wellllll…myself. Although –
Eleven: Oi, you really are rude!
Human!Ten: WHAT?!
Eleven: Stay on track; What do you think? *fondles his bow tie*
Human!Ten: What, the bow tie?
Eleven: Yup, let’s get it over with. Everyone has to comment on the bow tie….
Human!Ten: I quite like it!
Eleven: Really? Mister sweaty trainers approves?
Human!Ten: Oh yes! Very Double-O 7 meets mad science professor. Very us. Soooo-ah! TARDIS needs fixin’, ay? Two heads better than one, I suppose.
Eleven: The same head, really. Kinda….sorta…-ish. So, welllllll *gasps and holds unto his throat, before slightly gagging* That’s new! This new…-ish mouth does not seem to like that old word. Anyways, yes. Come along, Righty.
Human!Ten: Righty?! Oi!
Eleven: I don’t even quite know why I call me 'Doctor’ so why should I call you Doctor? And I can’t call you 'John’. You’re not a Baptist, nor an Apostle..,certainly no Travolta. How about 'Ten’, would you prefer 'Ten’?
Human!Ten: Huh, wellll I do love channel ten - the scifi network that is. And the Ten Commandements - those are rather brilliant! Ten types of bananas on Raxacoricofallapatorius, ten quid goes far in a little shop, ten times Jackie didn’t slap me when I swore she would - all bril…errm, fabulous! Oh, but this world had a tenth Harry Potter book and it was rubbish. Just absolute rubbish. Barty Crouch Jr. returned - reincarnated as a giraffe!
Eleven: So, Righty it is, then?
Human!Ten: Right-o! Allons – wait? What are you doing now?
Eleven: Geronimo!
Human!Ten: Geroni - no, no, don’t, let’s not do that, no.

Doctor Who rewritten - Matilda Wormwood as the Doctor’s companion

Doctor: So, little Matilda, tell me about yourself. Likes, dislikes, martial status, how many licks it takes you to get to the center of a tootsie pop, hobbies, talents, favorite breed of cat -
Matilda: Well, I do have a unique talent.
Doctor: Which is?
Matilda: It’s pretty unbelievable…
Doctor: Unbelievable?! Unbelievable’s not a word! It’s just something adults say so that you’ll stay out trouble. And do I look like someone who minds trouble?
Matilda: I guess not.
Doctor: That’s right. Trouble’s practically one of my 213 middle names. So go on, what’s your special talent?
Matilda: I can move things…with my mind.
Doctor: Ah, so you’re tele…tela…telo…you’re a mindy-move-y person!
Matilda: Telekinetic?
Doctor: That’s the word! And what if I told you that I have an incredible talent of my own?
Matilda: I don’t know. Tell me.
Doctor: I can travel…through Time.
Matilda: No way!
Doctor: Yes way!
Matilda: Holy cow!
Doctor: What? Where? I didn’t think cattle were still worshiped anywhere in this century.
Matilda: It’s just an expression.
Doctor: Oh. Then tell you what, Magnificent mind-moving Matilda - let’s go into my very special box, and I’ll take you to see a holy cow right now. Or a purple cow. Or a blue cow. Even a watermelon-scented cow. Or not a cow at all. I see you love books. How about you name an author, anyone who has ever or will ever live - except Stephanie Meyer, she’s not too keen on me ever since I corrected her vision of vampires - and I’ll take you to meet them? In return, you’ll show me how to levitate stuff. This head of mine has always wanted a flying fez. Or maybe a rotating stetson. Perhaps a leaping sombrero.

4

Ever wonder what might have happened if things had been just a little different? If that virus hadn’t been released? If that wrong turn hadn’t been taken? If that lever hadn’t slipped?

Well why not find out? Timestream is an extended, advanced Doctor Who RPG set in an alternate multiverse. Become your favourite characters, step into the shoes of a historical figure, seize control of races and organisations and stage your own invasion. Write your own episode and see it play out in front of you. Craft that backstory, fix that death, secure that lever. Travel back into the Time War itself.

Now reopening on Jcink for wider access, Timesream is part character study and part new series reboot. A new collaborative writing project in the form of a text-based RPG,  we aim to explore and re-imagine the extended world of Doctor Who. We’ll provide explanations, background information and corrections and fill in plot holes, through the creation and development of our own ‘alternate multiverse’.

2

Right, I’m calling your parents.
Are you disrespecting the house of Pond?! Art thou calling my mother a Scottish kiss-o-gram?
Enough!
Art thou calling my father a bumbling plastic Roman?!
Mels.
But he ain’t still a bumbling plastic Roman!
Listen to me.
But he ain’t still even a bumbling plastic Roman though!
That’s enough.
I’m hot and bovvered. This incarnation - bovvered. Sweetie. Spoilers. I am hot and bovvered.
My Doctor did once burn up a sun.
My dad is even more dead than mummy’s hair red.
If I’m yet to be River, why then my breasts aren’t done.
If hair be wires, black wires now grow on my head.
Doctor has seen Rose damasked, pink and yellow,
But no such Rose see I in any weeks.
And in some spoilers is there more delight,
Than in the vwooorp that from his box reeks.
I love to hear the Doctor speak, yet well I know,
That Silence hath bring a far more terrible sound.
I grant I never saw a Captain go,
My Doctor, when he walks, stumbles on the ground.
And yet by Gallifrey, I think my love as rare,
As any he snogged with false compare.
Sonic me, alien boy!

Doctor Who rewritten - During his “farewell tour” of series 6, the Doctor learns that Donna Noble has written a series of children’s books and poses as a reporter to speak with her.

Doctor: So, Mrs. Temple-Noble, my editor, Mr. uh…J. Jonah Jameson, tells me that you were inspired to write these books because of vivid  - ?
Donna: Dreams, yes. For the past - gosh, three years or so - I’ve been having peculiar ones nearly every single night. Like, being left at the alter for a giant spider, having a giant cockroach on my back, and being attacked by a giant wasp! Not that they’re all giant-insects-related though.
Doctor: Eek, sounds terrifying!
Donna: No, but see: they only sound that way. Somehow, I feel completely happy during ‘em. The most wonderful part of my day is when I’m sleeping.
Doctor: I’m sorry.
Donna: Phh, don’t apologize. I love it! Besides, not like it’s your fault, Mr. - oh, sorry, I forget it. My brain’s a bit scrambled, chasing after an 18-month-old all day.
Doctor: I’m Mr. Lake, but you can call me 'Jackson’. And you…you have a son?
Donna: Daughter. Name’s Jenny.
Doctor: Oh, what a cool name!. Though I do hope your phone number isn’t 867-5309. Whoops, bad joke. It’s a song - American, I think. Anyway, you were saying?
Donna: Well, being a former temp - and a pretty good one, if I must say - I’m able to type my dreams out quickly every morning, before they fade much from memory. And they’re so utterly ridiculous, that I don’t want to keep 'em cooped up just inside my brain. I thought, why not share the stories with children!
Doctor: Brilliant!
Donna: Nah, but thanks. Here’s the first book. *passes him it*
Doctor: Daisy’s Wild Ride.
Donna: Yeah, Daisy’s a young girl in a few of my dreams. Pretty. Blonde.
Doctor: What are these little smiley blooby things on the first page?
Donna: Just some cute creatures, harmless. They prance naked around the street, and are fun to wave at.
Doctor: And these - ? *points to another page*
Donna: Ah, those are the Doods. Aliens who sing and have spaghetti permanently stuck in their mouths.
Doctor: And her - *points again*?  With the nice curly hair?
Donna: Puddle. Bloody rubbish name, I know. But that’s what she calls herself in my dreams - Puddle Lullabye. She’s a bit of a tease, very secretive.
Doctor: Sounds intriguing! And *points again* what is that - a police box?! Nice blue color! Lemme guess: it’s magical?
Donna: Nope, that’s a porta-potty.
Doctor: Oh.
Donna: And see this too-skinny bloke who looks like he could use an IV to pump bacon directly into his lanky frame? Not that you’re much bigger. Wait, sorry, would you like something to eat? I made a fresh loaf of banana bread earlier.
Doctor: Sure! I love bread…of nearly all fruit flavors! At least, I think I do. But first, what were you saying about that man? The too skinny one? Though the hair doesn’t look so bad, even if the suit’s a bit raggedy…
Donna: He’s a doctor.
Doctor: Oh? Really?
Donna: Yup, Doctor Jack Harksmith.
Doctor: *sputtery noises*
Donna: He’s a wee bit *points to her head and twirls around a finger* cuckoo. He travels by magic carpet - calls it a 'CARPIS’, insists upon running around everywhere in a suit, is easily amused by his miniscule knowledge of Italian, carries around a laser hammer, and licks nearly everything in sight - edible or not.  Oh and he’s clearly head-over-trainers in love with Daisy, but he never ever tells her. Can you even believe that?
Doctor: Well, it sure does sound like the stuff of legend. A bit fairytale, maybe.
Donna: I know, I know. And he - this Doctor Jack Harksmith - can be annoying as my mother. And believe me, my mother is annoying. Plus, he’s overly hyperactive and rather irrational, so I’m practically his babysitter. But you know what, Mr. Lake?
Doctor: What’s that, Mrs. Nob - uh, Mrs. Temple-Noble?
Donna: He’s fantastic. As is every single dream. I wouldn’t trade them in for anything.

Doctor Who rewritten - Barney Stinson as the Doctor’s part-time companion

Are you there, Lord of Time? It’s me, Barney. What up! Listen, pinstripe-suit up and meet me at MacLaren’s, ASAP. There’s a pack of cheerleaders here, blonde humans mostly, possible parental issues - just your type. I think they’ll be impressed by the power of a certain vibrating tool of yours. Yeah, yeah, I know it doesn’t do wood, but these co-eds will do it for ya, if you know what I’m saying. That’s right - I’m thinking you’ll offer up the usual “Waa, waa, woe is me, I’m the last of my kind and me and my friend here” - that’s me, by the way, I’ll introduce myself as ‘The Master’ - “need your human lady-bits to help repopulate the species” shtick. They’ll be granting us exclusive access to journey within their bigger-on-the-inside boxes in no time. Oh, and bring your brainy specs - ya know the ladies love 'em - and get ready to knock four times on a bedpost, John Stiff. Tonight’s gonna get your big balls plenty of sexy-oh-yes-y…stuff. And might I say, it’s gonna be legen- wait for it and sorry it’s not a nutrient found in bananas (though yours will be pleasured tonight) because it’s - dairy. LEGENDARY. See ya soon, most hung bro in all the bedrooms.

Doctor Who rewritten - Confused by her peculiar lingering memories, Donna visits a certain unusual consultant.

Sherlock: So, who was murdered and why should I care?
Donna: Uh, no one, I -
Sherlock: Then I don’t care.
Donna: But -
Sherlock: Look to your left. See that wooden thing there? It’s called a door. I think you’ll get along well. Good afternoon, Miss -
Donna: Oi, you listen to me, Clue Man! I didn’t travel all this way for nothing. You’re looking for interesting cases, right? Well, what if I told you that I have memories - vivid ones - of Mount Vesuvius erupting?
Sherlock: So? You obviously survived. Yay, you.
Donna: …No, but that was thousands of years ago.
Sherlock: Was it?
Donna: Yessss. What’d you think, I meant yesterday?!
Sherlock: I only just learned that the Earth revolves around Venus - or the Sun, or whatever object John here insists that we travel around - last month. Why should I concern myself with France’s volcanic history?
Donna: Rome’s.
Sherlock: Again, what’s it to me?
Donna: Well, it isn’t just that. Every night, I have the strangest dreams. A library covering an entire planet, bees disappearing, these bald creatures with spaghetti stuffed in their months, a man with a rubbish name - something like ‘Captain Jackoff Hardness’, white fluffy things that jump out of fat, meeting Agatha Christie, giant insects - oh, and throughout it all, I’m with a Martian as skinny as a toothpick and the hair of a wild bird, who -
Sherlock: Your point?
Donna: It feels like something’s missing. Something major. Like I have amnesia, but I don’t even remember that I have it. I don’t know, maybe I’ve been drugged because I witnessed a murder? Or…something. Please, Mr. Holmes, it’s been nearly 12 months. I’ve seen 4 psychiatrists - none of them have helped. Do you -
Sherlock: Yes.
Donna: Yes…what?
Sherlock: Yes, I’ll take the case. You’ll pay well. Not that I usually care about money, but I wouldn’t mind draining a lottery winner of her wealth.
Donna: Oh. At least you’re honest. Most people - wait, how’d you know I won the lottery?
Sherlock: Please. With earrings like those? Clearly pricey, not to mention tacky. Plus, the painted nails. And the haircut. And the velvet top. The whole look screams new money, done up by someone overly excited by it all, not making wise decisions. And how else besides the lottery could a former temp look that way?
Donna: How’d you know -
Sherlock: That after 14 to 16-and-a-half years as a temporary office staff member, you quit thanks to your lottery win and are now concentrating on conceiving a flock of bossy little ginger children? Your knees.
Donna: My knees…told you all that? Oh you are mad! I like it.
Sherlock: But change the name. Your last name, Temple-Noble. Sounds like a religious estate. Only adds to the number of people befriending you for your money. Either that, or it gives the impression that you’re royalty. Which clearly you’re not.
Donna: Oi, and rude!  Don’t think I’ve never met anyone quite like you.
Sherlock: Yes, well I may be rude but at least I’m not…ginger. Now, talk. And John, stop staring; Breasts are only a pair of mammary glands.

Doctor Who rewritten - during The Wedding of River Song, when Time is all jumbly-wumbly, the Eleventh Doctor seeks out the help of a familiar face

Nine: Really…a bow tie?! What are you, Billy Nye the Science Guy?
Eleven: Really…the ears?! What are you, Dumbo the Elephant?
Nine: Hey, I didn’t chose ‘em ! You got to pick out that forehead from a catalogue?
Eleven: No, I suppose not. Although, I am in the market for a new fez. If only there was a Forever 904 shop in this galaxy.
Nine: A fez?!
Eleven: Yes, a fez. It’s cool…and helpful, like a bowl, but for the head. Geez, why does everyone act like fez is an offensive word? It’s not like I said “Heil Hitler”, “broccoli soup” or “Charlie Sheen”. Or one of those bleepy TV words.
Nine: Oi, will you just spill it already, old man? Why are you here?
Eleven: Spoilers.
Nine: Spoilers?! Like those things on a car?
Eleven: No, not quite. I -
Nine: Or did you cross your own timeline to ruin the end of Harry Potter for me? You know I’ve been saving book seven for -
Eleven: Wrong-o, again! Or buzz! Get it, like a game show buzzer?
Nine:
Eleven: No, no, I’m afraid I’m here for a much more important reason. I need your help, but I can’t explain why. What do ya say? Is my daft 'ol face whiling to lend a madman a hand? Oooh, go on, I know you want to! Can I hear a 'fantastic’?
Nine: Well, I am thinking of an f-word, but I’m not sure if it’s that one.

Doctor Who rewritten - Amy and Rory watch a DVD that Sally Sparrow also owns.

Amy: It’s like he’s being deliberately ridiculous, trying to attract our attention.
Doctor: Yup, that’s me.
Amy: No, Mr. Special Feature, not you, The Doctor. Oh god, listen to me, Rory. I’m getting delusional now, talking to a TV.
Doctor: I’m a time traveler. Or I was. I’m stuck in 1969.
Rory: Oh sure, sure. Aren’t we all time travelers now?
Doctor: Quite possibly.
Amy: Okay, that’s…
Rory: Do…do you think he can hear us?
Doctor: ‘Fraid so.
Rory: Ah!
Amy: Oh, calm down, must be a related DVD feature. Game or something.
Doctor: People don’t understand time; It’s not what you think it is.
Amy: Oh gee, how original of you. Like I need to be -
Doctor: People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it’s more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey…stuff.
Amy: Ah! Timey-wimey! Did, did he just say timey-wimey?! Rory, tell me, did he just say timey-wimey?!
Rory: I…yes, that’s what I heard.
Amy: Oh my god! He…he’s said that! The Doctor’s used that phrase! (to the TV) Doctor! Doctor! Are you back there? Are you captured by this bloke? You teach him to say that?
Doctor: Well, I can hear you.
Rory: See, told you!
Amy: Yeah, I think I actually believe it now. (to the TV) Hey, you! Yeah, Glasses, you release the Doctor. That’s right, I know him. Now release him or -
Doctor: What matters is we can communicate. We have got big problems now. They’ve taken the blue box, haven’t they? The angels have the phone box.
Amy: Oh. my. god.
Doctor: Creatures from another world.
Rory: Do you think…no! Those, those angels you told me about?!
Doctor: Lonely assassins, they were called. No-one knows where they came from. They’re as old as the universe, or very nearly. They’ve survived this lo -
Amy: Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Tell me, if you really can hear me: how can I…we help the Doctor?
Doctor: I’m sorry, I am very, very sorry, it’s up to you now.
Rory: Figures.
Amy: Shut up, Rory!
Doctor: The blue box, it’s my time machine.
Amy: The TARDIS? Yours?!
Doctor: There is a world of time energy in there they could feast on forever. The damage they can do can switch off the sun. You have got to send it back to me!
Rory: Oh well, that’s it then. It’s all rubbish. He’s fictional, he doesn’t know the Doctor, this is just a  coincidence.
Amy: No. No, it’s not. Can’t be. He…he’s explaining the angels just like the Doctor did to me. All…exuberant, big fancy words. Almost like, though he knows he should be afraid, he’s oddly excited. Nearly happy about it, because he’s just loves the thrill so much. Sound familiar?
Rory: What are you saying?
Amy: Rory, I think this man…I think he is the Doctor. He, our Doctor, mentioned something to me once about different bodies, but -
Doctor: And that’s it, I’m afraid. There’s no more from you on the transcript, that’s all I’ve got. I don’t know what stopped you talking, but I can guess. They’re coming. The angels are coming for you. But listen, your life could depend on this. Don’t blink! Don’t even blink. Blink and you’re dead. They are fast, faster than you can believe. Don’t turn your back, don’t look away, and don’t blink! Good luck!
Rory: Oh doesn’t that sounds lovely. Gee, thanks.
Amy: Doctor! Doctor! *runs over to the TV and pounds on it* Come back, Doctor! You can’t just leave me, us...again! Doctor!

Doctor Who rewritten - Jean-Ralphio Saperstein and Thomas Montgomery Haverford as the Eleventh Doctor’s dope new companions

“This must be the fantastic Doctor. Enchanté. Listen Mr. handsome bow tie, let’s cut the bull, all right? You need someone to travel with you. I like Space! I like Time! T.H. does too. Let’s seal this Back to the Future devil’s threeway right here, right now. Step one: You open up your sweet time machine. Step two: We roll into your fly box, driving up either by a magic carpet that I’m betting you own, or in my pre-owned Acura Legend. Step three: I run with you throughout the Universe. Just woooosh, woooosh, woooosh, woooosh, woooosh, now all the TARDIS sayin’, vwoooorp, vwoooorp, vwooorp, vwooorp, vwooorp. What do you say, Sexy? Or do you just prefer Doctor? I can work with that, I can work with that. I say D to the O to the C to the T to the O to the R, together this mad alien and I gonna travel real far…out.”

Doctor Who rewritten - After saving Madge and her family, the Eleventh Doctor pops over to just a few months earlier and a few neighborhoods away to visit a fantastic man

Eleven: ‘Ello! I’m -
Nine: Who the hell are you?
Eleven: Young and rude? Wowzer. As I was saying, I’m the caretaker. Now don’t ask me “Caretaker who?”. Just the Caretaker.
Nine: Ah, wrong house then. You don’t look like an orphan girl. Sorry. But first, tell me. Uh, might seem like a stupid question, but then again I’m pretty stupid, me. Have you noticed an object that fell from the sky recently?
Eleven: You mean besides all the big loud explode-y things from the air raid? No…not recently. And you are most certainly not at the wrong house. Have you seen this house? It’s gorgeous! And I should know, I live in a quite an extraordinary place myself. Come on in, Doctor. I’ll cook you up a nice Christmas Eve dinner. Let me guess: just a banana will do?
Nine: Nah, not really hungry. I’ve got a good stomach. And I better get back to - wait, how’d you know my name?
Eleven: Ah. That. Yes. Uh, see I’m a student. Earning my doctorate in History, and you’re all over the books. You and Rose Tyler? You’re the stuff of legend! It’s an honor to meet you, really.
Nine: Thanks? I would say the same to you, but I’d rather not lie.
Eleven: 'Course not. No, you don’t seem like a liar. Not at all. Tell you what though: just come in to use the phone. Perhaps somehow it’ll help you locate Captain Ja -  uh, that big sky-falling-y thinga-majig you mentioned.
Nine: Oh, alright. Just for a sec then, thanks.
Eleven: No problem! May I take your coat? That’s quite magnificent leather there. Leather is cool. I’d wear some myself, but it really doesn’t suit this face. Best left with my young, “Watch out Universe, I’m a tough guy!” phase.

Sherlock: Alien.
Watson: What do you mean ‘alien’? He looks human!
Sherlock: With that perfection of personal grooming?
Watson: Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair.
Sherlock: You wash your hair. There’s a difference. No, no. Long sideburns. Clear signs of having lost a hand but it grew back, that skinny suit. Then there’s his eyebrows.
Watson: His eyebrows?
Sherlock: Moving in an inhuman matter. Very inhuman. Very particular talent. That plus the extremely suggestive fact that he’s flying in an inaccurate London police box, that if you just take a quick glance inside, Dr. Watson, you’ll notice is dimensionally transcendental.

Doctor Who rewritten - Instead of Royal Hope, the Tenth Doctor checks himself into Royal Leadworth Hospital.

Rory: Two hearts?! You’ve…got two hearts? Two of them?
Doctor: Right-io. Oh, no, I’m never saying that again.
Rory: But how? W-why? Hang on, I’m going to page the E.R.
Doctor: E.R.? Nah, I’d prefer General Hospital. Scrubs even. No wait - Doctors! Or better yet, let’s just entertain ourselves. Tell me about yourself, Rory Williams.
Rory: How’d you know my name?
Doctor: It’s on your badge.
Rory: Oh. And you’re -
Doctor: I’m the Doctor.
Rory: Excuse me?
Doctor: The Doctor. ‘Ello!
Rory: Oh, you…you’re just testing me, then? That’s what this is? You’re one of the hospital’s surgeons? Did, did I pass?
Doctor: WHAT?! No, I’m the Doctor. That’s my name.
Rory: Right. Right, 'course. I…hang on, just going to page the psych ward.
Doctor: WHAT?! Ohhh, I like you. You’re smart. Smart, but in this case, wrong. See, Rory Williams, I’m not crazy; I’m just not human.
Rory: I…I think I better page…
Doctor: Oi, page, page, page! Forget about your supervisors! Listen to yourself. You’re clever; I’m beyond clever. You’re bored now; I accidentally came here on a Sunday so clearly nothing’s happening and I’m bored now, too. Fancy a visit inside a vintage police box?

Doctor: ‘Ello, I’m the Doctor.
Amelia: Oh, I didn’t make an appointment.
Doctor: No, no, that’s not my profession. It’s my name. The Doctor. What about you?
Amelia: Well, Mr. The Doctor, it’s a letter. Between ’T’ and 'V’.
Doctor: Ha! Yes, of course. But what I meant was: what’s your name?
Amelia: I’m Amelia. Amelia Bedelia.
Doctor: Ah, magnificent! I know another Amelia. Pond, she’s called.
Amelia: Really? A body of water must make an unusual friend.
Doctor: Well, I’m not a usual man. Tell me Bedelia: in that last house you cleaned, did you noticed any crack in the walls?
Amelia: Heavens, no! My clients are drug-free.
Doctor: Right. Eer, I suppose I’ll just check myself later then.
Amelia: Oh, I can help with you that. *Pulls a marker out of pockets* Where should I draw it?
Doctor: What?
Amelia: The check mark.
Doctor: *Laughs* You know, I’m pretty weird, but you might even stranger.
Amelia: Stranger? No, I’ve introduced myself.
Doctor: No, no, I meant. Uh..never mind. Nice outfit, by the way. Love the hat. I’ve never worn a hat quite like that before.
Amelia: Thank you, Mr. The Doctor. I like your bow tie.
Doctor: Really?! Oh, what a sweet deal-ia, Amelia Bedelia. How right you are! Bow ties are cool.
Amelia: Has it been in the refrigerator?
Doctor: No, not that I know of. Tell you what though, Amelia, how would you like to see my very special box?
Amelia: Like a jack-in-a-box?
Doctor: Not quite. Though I have had a Jack in it before. Come along, Bedelia. All of Time and Space are waiting!
Amelia: Wow! What type of restaurant is that? I’m used to human servers.

Doctor Who rewritten- The Doctor gets stuck in 2011 Pawnee, Indiana for a few weeks

Ron: John? The new intern Tom found while shopping at some store called Bow Tie Brothers? Yeah, he’s…interesting. He never comes to work on time, he pours nearly as much whipped cream on everything as Leslie, he checks the office wall’s each day for cracks, and his best insult for Jerry was to call him a sl…sl…uh…Slitheen, I think it was. And during our hunting trip last week, he wore my raccoon hat the whole time and kept shouting “Geronimo!”, but refused to actually pick up a gun. Oh and he nearly cried when I introduced him to Donna, and now only calls her by her last name.

But, ‘Lil Sebastian seems to adore the guy, so he’s worth using the taxpayer’s money to employ.

The Doctor: Oh, small town governments? I love a good small town government! And Pawnee is definitely cool. Leslie’s fascinated with my stories about dear Eli, though she thinks they’re made-up; Eleanor Roosevelt that is - an old friend. Andy told me he’d soon like to write a song about my hair. I did something called 'pea-cocking’ last night with Tom - got to wear a hot pink fez and watch some lovely ladies dance at a factory of glitter. Chris, though, is an interesting bloke; he seems a little too fascinated by my body’s physique. Oh and yes, I’m quite sure Jerry’s a Slitheen.

Doctor Who rewritten - Rory Williams travels with the Tenth Doctor, and eventually touches his handy spare hand

Rory: Doctor?!
Doctor: Oh yes!
Rory: You’re…nak - uh, you’re in your birthday suit.
Doctor: Oh yes!
Rory: You’re…you, you’re naked, and you just grew out of your own extra hand in a jar.
Doctor: Oh yes, yes, and yessity-yessity-yes-yes! Oh, I’m never saying that again.
——–
Doctor: (changing into a plaid polo shirt and jeans, found in the TARDIS wardrobe) Sush, no one knows we’re here. Must keep quiet. Silent running, like in an hospital, where they never ever yell, so as to not frighten the patients. Don’t yell. I like plaid. What do you think?
Rory: You. are. mad!
Doctor: Why, what’s wrong with plaid? You wear it all the time! Oooh…
Rory: Is that what all aliens do? Clone themselves out of a body part? Thank goodness Amy isn’t seeing you both.
Doctor: No, no, no, no, no, I’m unique. Never been another like me! Because all that regeneration energy went into the hand - look at my hand, I love that hand. But then you touched it - Wham bam, thank you ma'am! (Rory jumps and spills across the ground; the Doctor helps him back up.) Shhh…instantaneous biological metacrisis. I grew…out of you. Ain’t half bad. You’re brilliant, Rory! Ohhh, and now I’m part nurse. A nurse and a Doctor, all in one nifty little package. Not that my package is -
Rory: No, no, no - I’m not interested, Doctor!

Doctor Who rewritten - The Doctor gets a bit antsy and bored while the Ponds are away on their honeymoon, so he decides to visit an old friend.

Doctor: Ah, ‘ello, Martha! Martha Jo -
Martha: Doctor?! I thought you sounded a bit different on the phone, but I hadn’t realized and whoa…talk about change!
Doctor: Do you like it? I…I mean I know, you’re…you and Mickey are a thing, and that’s good. Lovely thing, human marriage. First step towards a baby and a baby carriage. So I’m not asking if you, uh like my look in that way, but uh -
Martha: Relax, Doctor. Wow, you…sputtering? I have to say I’m a bit stunned. But the look? I like it. Different, but still, it’s definitely very you. And it’s just so good to see you, Mister Smith.
Doctor: Back at you, doctor Jones. Or are you a Smith now, too?
Martha: Nah, I kept my last name. 'Martha Smith’ didn’t sound quite right to the ears; Mickey understood.
Doctor: Ah, good 'ol Mickey! So Jones, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?
Martha: You called me, Doctor.
Doctor: I did?! Oh, right, I did! Fancy going to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter?
Martha: Excuse me?
Doctor: No, not the current Earth one. The year 6-billion version. It’s a whole galaxy near the Andromeda Constellation - partially staffed by actual wizards and witches!
Martha: So you called me out of a special, high-priority UNIT consolation trip…to visit an amusement park?
Doctor: Yes.
Martha: Doctor, I -
Doctor: Right, sorry, I’ll call you again when -
Martha: No, no, Doctor, wait, I was just trying to get the facts straight. I’d love to go!
Doctor: Oh, magnificent Martha! I knew I could count on you.
Martha: Lemme just call Mickey. Can he come, too?
Doctor: Martha and Mickey? Even more magnificent, magnifi-squared! Although, with a person named Mickey on board, maybe we’ll also treat ourselves to a quick stop over at Disneyland Klom.
Martha: Great, but just those two stops. Mickey should be able to get here soon. And then - “Allons-y”! Or wait, do you still say that?
Doctor: Actually, I was thinking that I’d go for a special  “Wingardium leviosa, TARDIS!”

River: You know, this isn’t the only time we meet, Sweetie. You’ll be seeing me again.
The Doctor: Really? Fantastic! When?
River: Uh-uh, spoilers.
The Doctor: Oh, but I love a good spoiler, me. Popped on over to 2007 and read the final chapter of Harry Potter, while I was just on book three.
River: Goodness, such a daft mind! And Northern voice, receding hairline and big ears, too? Oh, such fun surprises the young ones bring!
The Doctor: Do you travel with me, River?
River: Is that an offer?
Doctor: Do I offer?
River: Do you want to offer?
Doctor: *Shrugs*
River: Ya know, I really just hate you sometimes.
Doctor: Ah, see now I’m thinking you’re the mother of someone I travel with.
River: *Laughs* Well, maybe some mothers fancy you. G'night, Doctor.

Doctor Who rewritten - Donna Noble runs into River Song, post Journey’s End

Donna: Excuse me, don’t I know you?
River: No, No I don’t think so.
Donna: But I do. I…I know it sounds like complete rubbish, but I was enjoying a picnic with my family over there, and when I spotted you, I swear my heart stopped. And well, I’m not into…I mean, I have a husband, so it wasn’t that sort of heart stopping at first sight. What’s your name?
River: Professor River Song.
Donna: *Laughs* No really. I’m sorry to pry, but maybe I can remember you if I know your name.
River: I  just told you it. River Song.
Donna: Fine, I get that a random stranger coming up to you on the beach, demanding your identity is a bit weird. But at least don’t make up a drag queen’s name.
River: But River Song is my name.
Donna: Right, yeah. More like a kiddie water park. Or a discount music shop.
River: And what’s your name?
Donna: I’m Donna. Donna Temple-Noble.
River: Ahh, that your local church?