A VEST OF EVIL
Part One: Seriously, You Need To Stick With This Plot
The Doctor and Martha Jones are on the planet Rexepalaptis 3, where they discover the mood-altering Premar spray is being used by the Rexepalapiteans to create a human slave trade as revenge for crimes humanity is destined to commit in the future!
Meanwhile, in 2009 Cambridge, Ben Chatham is ignoring the fact his family have disowned him, his bank manager is pressing criminal charges and a full thirteen cases of stalking have been pressed against him by Charles Broxby, Jamie McHamish, Jenna Stannis and the entirety of Torchwood Three.
Instead of trying to work out a way for him to escape this hideous fate of destitution, prostitution and dying alone, unloved and unmourned while being sexually molested by a circus clown, Ben has spent the last of his earthly cash on a cupful of ridiculously expensive Blue Ridge Homeground Coffee, which is incredibly exclusive because only retarded wankers would be dumb enough to drink the filthy muck.
As Ben drowns out the noise of the angry mobs outside with Nick Drake's "Five Years Left" album, he searches vainly for someone to send a text to that isn't already suing him for sexual harrasment and realizes that the whole of Scotland have declared war on him for the events of "Duraneg3d Fukng Ensaniet3" and their armed forces are already being mobilized to hunt him down and turn him into an incredibly smoothe sporran to be presented to Elton John for his next divorce case.
Ben's incredibly thick psychological defenses are finally beginning to crumble. After stupidly trying to live a life of action, adventure, absinthe, excitement, and women-hating gay sex like he one had on a Christmas Eve hallucination has lead to him being declared public enemy number two (he's still got a long way to go to beat Chis Chinball), and will be hounded throughout the civilized and uncivilized world until his snobby arrogance is drowned in his own 200% proof blood!
To stop his entire personality disintegrating like the plot of a Gerry Davis Cyberman tale, Ben needs to be reassured what a perfect, sophisticated, refined person he really is and that everyone loves him and finds him charming despite his terrifyingly lost list of personality dissorders.
Unfortunately, the only person to fit the bill is Katie Ryan, who he threw into a Suffolk mental asylum for the Terminally Unfashionable for old time's sake - the staff there agreed Katie needed help for the obvious mini-breakdown she'd suffered to ever have been attracted to Chav-Hater Chatham the Cambridge Cunthead.
Ben decides to ring up the lunatic asylum and demand her release on the grounds that he is Ben Chatham and better than anyone else in the entire world.
"Hi, is that Bedlam Revisited? What a stroke of luck, I have absolutely no fucking idea what I just dialed. My name is Ben Chatham. Well? Aren't you going to faint in amazement? What do you mean 'So what?' I have a degree! Look, I want you release a prisoner from your lunatic asylum... Fine! 'Retreat/Depression Clinic', then. Everyone knows it's a nuthouse full of Mongoloids.
SHUT THE FUCK UP! Now, where was I? Ah less, Katie Ryan, I dropped her off three days ago. Put me through to her room. What do you mean, there are no phones in the padded cells? Well, bring her here then!
KATIE RYAN! What? She IS staying with you, you filthy little virus, so don't you lie to me. I HAVE A FUCKING DEGREE, BITCH! Look, moron, I drove there myself, and threw her onto the pavement outside the door before driving off incredibly fast! You must remember me - nothing else in this universe is more interesting than I am.
What? What do I look like? ARE YOU INSANE?! I AM BEN FUCKING CHATHAM!!!
You seriously expect me to think you DIDN'T notice the good-looking blonde guy. I KNOW IT'S 'BLOND' FOR MEN AND 'BLONDE' FOR WOMEN! Don't you fucking dare correct me! No, I am not confused about my sexuality! I despise women, but they look good on my arms and allow me to daterape all sorts of young, smoothe-chested bucks who have no life without me.
I AM NOT BEING AGRESSIVE!!!!!! I AM SIMPLY BEMUSED, MOTHERFUCKER, THAT YOU ARE DENYING THAT KATIE RYAN IS THERE! Surely you registered her and took her to a room or something after you found her unconscious body on the doorstep?
LISTEN YOU DILDO-SUCKING FOOL, PUT YOUR MANAGER ON!!
You ARE the Manager?
GOOD!
NOW, I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT KATIE RYAN WAS... Wait. It this Bedlam Revisited? Sorry, I meant to call the Limes Clinic. My mistake...
Charming! WELL YOU CAN SHOVE YOUR HEAD UP YOUR ARSE AND CHOKE ON YOUR OWN DUADENAL UCLER, YOU COMMON URBAN PUSTULE!"
So furious that the person has hung up on him, Ben is massively incontinent. The stench eats through the walls of his apartment and causes the rioting mob to flee, covering their noses and retching. The chemical warfare leads to London itself being evacuated while Ben is able to steal a car from a little old lady he punched unconscious. He drives off, so excited he starts to hallucinate that all his former lovers have started liking him again and tonight will return to his dissolving, fungus-ridden apartment and seduce him en masse.
So lost in his fantasy is Ben, he runs over an old man's spine, leaving him wheelchair bound. The man, Alistair Miles, swears revenge and comes up with a complicated scheme whereby an old Cybernaut prop from The Avengers is reimagined by Brian Hitch and sent to rob banks...
At that point, however, Ben accidentally reverses over Miles, crushing his skull like an egg. As Ben drives off once more, he also knocks over some shifty MIBs who were hanging around the place, runs down Harriet Jones and also half a dozen insane devil-worshipping alien industrialist company secretaries without even noticing.
Ben heads for the Limes Clinic, feeling duty bound to drive there, visit Katie in person, and then beat her up until she tells everyone how absolutely brilliant and fantastic it is to worship the Venerable Chatham as long as they are white, young, male with Oxford degrees who don't mind giving all their cash and social time to Ben Chatham but not so much they get clingy.
At that point, Ben puts on 'Brandenburg Concerto' on the car radio while searching for some Soft Cell-esque 80s electropop nonsense, but the mirror reflection of his luscious blond hair being blown in the wind overloads Ben's tiny excuse for a brain and he goes out of control through the Cambridgeshire countryside and collides with several cows before smashing through an infant school for Torchwood script writers.
Ben recovers his senses stuck half-way up an oak tree when a mysterious metal stomping is heard through the bushes. Ben is incontinent yet again with fear, but the stench does not deflect the strange creature lurching through the vegetation towards him.
Ben screams with pathetic girly terror as he realizes that his adversary is... THE SPARTHABOT!
"WEL I MUST SAY TAHT FOR ONCE U GOT SOMATHNG RIGHT BN CHATHM," says the Sparthabot, mistakenly believing Ben is trying to commit suicide to escape the combined armed forces of the entire human race, and some really pissed Alpha Centaurians.
Ben explains he is not intending to kill himself but actually trying to find the one person in the Solar System more pathetic than he is.
"WTH????!!??? LOL HAEV U MISED TEH FACT EV3RYONA HAETS U AND WANTS U 2 DEI???!!!?? WTF!" the Sparthabot jeers.
Ben ignores her and desperately scratches his initials in the bark of the tree in the vaguest of vague hopes the Doctor will one day pass a tree with a crude BC scratched into it, leap to the conclusion Ben needs help and somehow travel backwards in time to meet them here and now.
"EXPECTNG DA DOC2R 2 B AT UR BK AND CAL CONTINUALY SHOWS A SARIOS LAK OF MATURITY!" sneers the android menace.
"God damn it, you silly bint!" Ben shouts at her. "Don't you ever shut the fuck up? Are you always such a stuck-up bitch queen?"
"ONLEY WH3N IN DA COMPANY OF 3XTREMALEY IMATURE MAN," replies Sparthabot, kicking him in the bollocks. "GROW FUKNG UP!!1!!!1 OMG WTF LOL!"
After Ben regains consciousness after Sparthabot slaps him viciously, she continues: "ANYWAY I PR3SUM3 UR NOT S3RIOS IN EXPECTNG ME 2 ACOMPANY U!1!11!!!! OMG WTF IT WUD B ABSOLUTELEY RIDICULOS TAHT I SHUD CUT SHORT MAH ENSLAEVMENT OF HUMANITY LIEK THIS!1!111! OMG LOL!"
Unfortunately, we've run out of other characters to use in this series for some unfathomable reason, Sparthabot agrees to go with Ben to the Limes Clinic.
The refined, cold-looking middle-aged woman dressed as a member of the Klu Klux Klan at the reception desk pulls a gun on the two of them and reminds them that visiting is for weekends only, this was their last warning and she is now legally obliged to blow holes through their kneecaps.
"Minimum distraction to psychological recover fleshkind require," she hisses, eyes green, cat like and painfully obvious that they'yve been painted onto her closed eyelids. "Request your irregular is. Strange, find it I."
Ben explains he dumped Katie on the hard gravel outside, where her bloodstains are clearly visible, and then danced naked in the front yard until a blonde nurse called Barbara set the dogs on him and he was rushed to hospital to recieve rabies shots all over his smoothe body. However, said nurse does not recall Ben even after the amateur archaeologist has stripped naked and done a little dance.
Sparthabot does not help with her random shouts of "DOC2R MYSTERIO SI R3QUIERD BRNG HIM HARE OR B SPANKED 2 DEATH!!!1!1 OMG LOL!"
Ben accuses Barbara of lying and demands to know what happened to Katie????????? (Yes, he counts the question marks).
Ben becomes agitated in a refined way by throwing a temper tantrum and rolling around on the floor, bashing his hands against the walls, screaming insanely before losing all bowel control. Finally, Ben runs out energy and loses consciousness. Two large reptillian creatures with retractable claws in their scaly arms pick up Ben and carry him onto the motorway, and he splatters onto the hard tarmac...
...in the oncoming path of a MORRIS MINOR!!
Part Two: You Need to Watch the Plot Arc Develop!
The Morris Minor hurtles straight towards Ben when suddenly he vanishes, reappearing in the grounds of the Limes Clinic. Ben realizes he has evolved into the next stage of humanity - Homophobe Academic Superiority Complex, or a Tommorrow Twat to give a vulgar, Chav-friendly catchphrase.
After getting lost in a grass verge five times, Ben accidentally knocks down a rickety wooden fence to see a few patients being crucified by what appear to be gigantic ferocious mutant yabbies dressed as Ninja Turtles. Nearby, an old lady in a wheelchair is strapped to a ducking stool and repeatedly shoved into a pond. Ben rushes over to the woman and says, "Hello. Look I'm sorry to disturb you but do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"For God's sake, you fucking nutter, get me out of here!" screams the sweet old lady as she is dunked yet again.
Ben explains he suspects that that the mysterious runners of the Limes Clinic are treating the old lady this way and she is no real use to the giant lizard people of the planet Calufrax.
"Is there anyone ELSE who can save me?" screams the old woman as she goes under for the first time.
A little puzzled over her unfriendly manner and putting it down to senility, Ben is totally taken aback when the Receptionist arrives and starts shouting:
"What you're doing, think you do? Who you are, in here coming and with Atlzeimers an old lady harassing? Doesn't need you upsetting her, fleshkind, very confused it gets!"
As more of the giant lobsters attack, Ben decides to text the Doctor for advice.
The reply:
HOW DA FUK DID U GAT THES NUMBR?!?
CAL IT AGANE AND I S3ND DA JUDON
2 PUT A CAP IN UR AS
ALONZE U R3TARD STAWKER BITCH!
Ben is helpless as the lobster people punch him in face again and again and again and again, before grabbing him by the neck, spinning him around and slamming him against the concrete, breaking every bone in his body.
Elsewhere in time and space, the Doctor makes a mental note to change his number as he and Donna enjoy a nice handrasagnalexecon... until Donna learns it is not so much a cocktail, but a space enema to flush them both out. Donna starts screaming and causing a scene.
Back on Earth, Ben loses the ability to even moan in pain as his skin turns ebony black from all the internal hemmorage as bones rupture from his once-smoothe-now-lacerated chest. His head is smashed against the concrete again and again until his skull caves him. Darkness comes...
...and anal leakage...
...and Ben Chatham dies as Bowie's 'Earthling' swells up in the background...
No.
Wait.
Suddenly, Ben wakes up. It was all yet ANOTHER absinthe soaked hallucination!
It is then he realizes he is still on the motorway as the Morris Minor hits Ben with sickening force, splitting him in two and sending the blood-soaked gorey chunks in the vague direction of various ditches.
No.
Wait.
Wait for it.
There it is.
Suddenly, Ben wakes up. That too was another absinthe soaked hallucination!
He is, in fact, driving through the countryside in his stolen car. Uncertain whether the Doctor sent the latest death threat on his mobile, Ben decides to muck about with his phone rather than watch where he's driving. Suddenly, the car runs over a young man walking by the side of the lane. Ben puts his foot on the brake and the car screeches to a halt - luckily, Ben's smoothe chest and blonde hair are totally unharmed.
Finally, this cliffhanger is deemed acceptable by Sparacus 'Flamingo' Jones who allows the episode to end.
Part Three: There's A Serious Alien Threat To Mankind
Our story begins with Ben proving once again unable to control a motor vehicle as, using a mobile while driving, he runs over a pedestrian. However, this is not the city, but the countryside. Instead of leaving the chav to die and etch a crossed-out hoodie on the car door, Ben stops the car. He hopes that the person he has run into is a refined, attractive, homosexual and young man who uses vast amounts of alochol. Thus, the close promixity of smoothe chests, firm thighs and blond hair will render him helpless and fall in love with Chatham.
Despite the last sixteen times where the victims contacted the police and their solicitors, Ben still has hopes it will work this time.
As Ben jumps out of the car, he is stunned when a short bloke in a beanie runs up, shouting "Master!" and helping the young man to his feet.
Ben is irritated at this little man and struggles desperately to make eye contact with the beautifully-cheekboned, dark-haired young man. But the little servant shouts abuse at Ben, screaming that he is an idiot who should watch the road in front of him.
The young man notes he's just bruised and tells Ben he can go fuck himself, before telling his companion Much they must head back to camp.
"But who are you?" Ben sobs.
"Robin Hood - now piss off," replies the anarchronistic outlaw as he limps away.
"You're not a postgraduate art student by any chance, are you?"
"A clue: no," Robin Hood replies.
Ben offers to take them to a theraputic retreat not far away called the Woodlands, where patient use painting, sculpture and group theatre to recover from being run over by alcoholic hit and runs. Much is interested when they discover lunch is free, but Robin refuses to risk driving with Ben Chatham. Ben is too busy brooding over the incredible coincidence of so many lunatic asylums in Suffolk and starts laughing hysterically and shouting, "YOU FUCKING FLAKEY RETARDS!" over and over again.
Much suggests to Robin they kill him and it takes all Robin's self control not to.
They turn and walk off.
Ben starts sobbing and screaming that, you know, anyone can have a mental breakdown and tries to woo Robin by bullshitting a history of Woodlands and how the property is rented from Lord Lucan to cover mafiosi gambling debts despite the mysterious headless corpses being dumped with the words THE LIMES CLINIC IS SUPREME scrawled in the deceased's blood. But by the time he's waffling on about holistic approaches, the two ex-Crusaders have run for it.
Back at the Limes Clinic, the Sparthabot is being given a job as district nurse to the lunatics on offer. After being told yet again that the Great Journey of Life requires her NOT to try and eradicat mankind, Sparthabot snaps, "I GATHERED TAHT!1!!! LOL IMM NOT SLOW-ON-DA-UPTAEK-ROSE!!1!1"
"Who Rose the hell is?" asks the Receptionist, baffled.
Meanwhile, Ben is driving around the countryside, sadly looking for Robin Hood but not even he with his non-specific degree from some unknown university knows how to violently have sex with someone who isn't actually there. Idly he starts wanking in the hope while driving he'll run over another pretty, educated, gay male pedestrian, so he can seduce, get in the car and have sex with while driving, which means they'll hit ANOTHER pretty, educated, gay male pedestrian and so on and so on until a massive orgy takes place with busloads of sexy road accident victims...
Ben loses it an unintentionally recreates the old ejaculation gags from Scary Movie, and simultaneously the death of the fat guy in the first Jurassic Park movie, as the windscreen is blotted out with white gunk, blinding the driver, and so the car crashes into a tree and explodes in a fireball.
Somehow, the sticky Ben survives intact and stumbles blindly through the trees and walks into the ironically-named "Little" John. Or, as his friends call him, "Absolutely Fucking Enormous And Violent And Ugly And Psychopathic And Surrounded By The Dead And Dying" John...
John calls Ben a "great bloody arsehole" and their eyes meet, Ben feels an instant connection - in the form of John's quarterstaff into his pancreas. John repeatedly whacks Ben with the staff, as Captain "Saracen" Djaq shouts, "You want to go the Woodlands retreat? Apparently they specialize in recovery through therapy and NOT the hell getting hit by fucking cars driven by fucking arseholes, you little filthy wanker!"
"PLEASE!" Ben screams for mercy. In a refined way. "I'M NOT A FLAKEY!"
"You daft little moose," Captain Djaq sneers, grinding the heel of her boot through Ben's cheek. "My father several times removed rode with Saladin himself and butchered all the English arseholes like you, you dirty son of a bitch."
Ben tries to turn on the charm.
"Little John," says Will Scarlet. "I think he's having a stroke."
"Hey! He just tried to feel me up!" Alan Adale screams.
"Filthy English pig," Captain Djaq snaps, repeatedly kicking Ben. "You dye your hair too, you little girlie."
Luckily, Ben is incontinent yet again (DOESN'T HE EAT?!?) and the Merry Men run for their lives as the stench strips the back from the trees around them...
to be continued...
Monday 9 July 2007
19 Stangeness
DURANEG3D FUKNG ENSANIET3
Part 1: Love & Absinthe
Like any good adventure, this Season 29 adventure begins with the Doctor and Martha facing the Luxorite Perfection Machines as they storm the Island of Crete, 508 BC, with their lethal medieval ideas of superiority on the human race!
Tragically, however, this is NOT a good adventure, so instead we locate ourselves in a 2009 Cambridge flat where Ben Chatham is slobbing around, idly logging onto Insecurities.com only to banned for the fourth consecutive time as an 'absinthe-soaked wank biscuit'. Every day he dreams for the Doctor and Martha to suddenly know who he is and rush to pick him up and travel into new and interesting adventures.
But they don't.
At all.
His trophy girlfriend Katie Ryan tries to excite him by dressing up as Bruno Langley and noting a 'seahemnge monument of unprecedented archaeological importance' has been discovered inside her underwear.
As ever, Ben is uninterested in her unsmoothe estrogen-caked repulsive form, and it only when he discovers that he has consumed the entire absinthe supply of Eastern AND Western Europe that he sits up, stops wanking and takes notice.
It becomes horribly obvious that unless he gets a new supply of the min-annihilating, suicide-inducing, clown-molesting plonk, Ben might actually sober up!!
The only other person who is a bigger pisshead than Ben Chatham is his uncle Harry, homosexual charicature and Upper Class Twit of the Year eighteen years running, who has been dubbed a biohazard and quarantined in a small estate on the West Coast of Scotland near the-so-small-it-often-gets-lost-under-the-staple village of Wierd Ness.
He was placed there in the hope his contamination would wipe out Wierd Ness since its population consists entirely of Scottish stereotypes, English ex-pats and patronizing gentry who think the place is "charming and colourful". They too have been relocated to Wierd Ness since the late nineteenth century and it was hoped that Harry would create a critical mass of poofy reactionaries and ideally wipe out every living thing.
Tragically, it just proves what wounded idealists and heavy drug users controlled Britain twenty years ago...
Ben decides that the time has come - like it always does in life - for him to brutally murder his own uncle and steal his remaining supplies of absinthe.
Ben decides that Katie can take a break from cooking, cleaning and bathing his smoothe, lucious chest and instead drive him all the way to Wierd Ness while he relaxes in the back seat with a perpetually-looped tape of Kraftwerk's Trans-Europe Express blotting out her repugnant feminine mewling of "You know, you really SHOULD take that medicine the doctors proscribed you".
Katie finds the trip less than pleasant as not only have to regularly stop to change Ben's incontinence trousers, but also the pleasant weather turns out to be dark, freezing rain and vicious coastal winds howling around them. And despite Ben's insistance that the natives are very friendly, the blood drenched skeleton dangling from a tree with a sign proclaiming "ONLY THE LOCAL SHALL LIVE!!" suggests that maybe they should have gone to Eastbourne instead.
A man-trap punctures the left front tire, flipping the car into a ditch and sending Katie through the windscreen into the pelting rain outside. Frustrated at his self-induced coma has been ruined, Ben climbs out into the elements... stupidly realizing not only has he gone out into the miserable weather wearing a jacket costing £700, he is naked from the waist down.
Rather than worrying about dying of exposure, or the fact he is a posterchild of 1980s consumerism, he muses he will have to walk all three yards to the village in the rain. So he finds Katie and bashes her head against the steering wheel of the car repeatedly, shouting "DAMN YOU, WOMAN! HOW DARE YOU EXACERBATE MY MOOD WITH YOUR DISEASED OVARIES?!?"
He then forces Katie to give him a piggy-back ride and be damn grateful for the opportunity. As she staggers through the rain and sleet, Ben spots another car smashed into a tree and idiotically hopes that it might be able to give him a lift for the next two yards.
Katie meekly points out that all the windows are steamed up, the occupants are moaning to themselves and there is a sign in the back window saying IF THIS CAR'S A-ROCKIN, DON'T COME A KNOCKIN, and suggests they are having wild underage sex.
Delighted, Ben pulls on Katie's hair until she takes him over to the window and allow him "a little surreptitious peep" and indulge his vice of voyeurism. Ben kicks open the window, and is upset to discover that not only are the occupants fully-clothed but have actually been involved in a hideous car crash. When he realizes that one of them is another woman, Ben instinctively draws a gun and shoots her through the neck.
"She’s dead," Ben announces darkly.
"No shit, really?" asked Katie, stunned.
In a sudden paranoid delusion, Ben notes that the injured man looks a little bit like Charles Broxby, another part of Ben's imagination that hates his guts, and so Ben shoots him as well. He orders Katie not to go for her mobile or he'll kill her too.
"There's no need to be so nasty, Ben," Katie points out before Ben calls her "numb nut" and smacks her repeatedly in the face.
Ben pisses on the corpses and decides to tell everyone the local electronics firm were responsible... until it strikes him that the chances of a tiny village like Wierd Ness having a thriving, immoral electronics industry is actually rather unlikely.
Ben has Katie carry him to the local pub "The Scottish Yobbo", its solitary neon sign FREE HAGGIS blowing in the wind. The pub is deserted bar the tall landlord with the beard so heavy it requires its own wheelbarrow. Stern and unwelcoming, the publican tosses a caber at them and tell them fuck off out of his pub.
Ben insists he must be given shelter and absinthe - it's rough work murdering innocent heterosexuals! What's more, the foul non-English weather have made him quite parched, so he demands a double of the finest single malt, and breaks Katie's nose when she tries to order a rum and coke.
The landlord, Angus Podgorning, explains they are closed and tells them to get their sasenach scrotums out of his pub or he'll set his pet man-eating blacmange on them - like the last couple whose car broke down and were foolish enough to enter the village. The police that came looking for them were also fet to his pet blacmanage, who is constantly straining at its leesh to dive into Loch Chav and feast on young flesh. Angus drools, his eyes wide and staring as he puts on a record of BBC stock dramatic music and plays Three Blind Mice on the Edison Telegraph.
"He's nice," Katie says brightly before Ben punches her in the face for daring to speak before being spoken to.
Since Harry's estate is five miles away from The Scottish Yobbo and unnatural beasts roam the streets through the sleeting rain, Angus tells Ben and Katie to get out before his pal Leatherface finishes sewing a kilt and attacks!
Ben giggles happily. This is just like his dream life of adventuring through time and space - wandering randomly into danger which coincidentally happens to be where he was going, a small isolate village, murdered people, bizarre locals with strange Scottish-Geordie accents, and Katie acting stupid so he can thump her. Once he can find his absinthe, all he needs is some Bowie in the background for him to remove his shirt and achieve Chatham Nirvana: being a total tosser yet simultaneously a children's hero...
At that moment, the door of the pub bangs in the wind, and Ben shits himself in mortal terror at the crappy weather, staining the carpet irrevocably.
Part 2: Whiskey Galore
Under gunpoint, Katie cleans up Ben's bodily waste for the fifth time that day as Uncle Harry minces in, wearing a gentlemen's cape he stole from an actual gentlemen and generally trying to out-camp Richard Griffiths in Whitnail & I.
By a staggering coincidence, he happened to be skipping gaily through the sleet and rain without being set upon by chainsaw-wielding maniacs or prehistoric sea monsters and smelt Ben's distinctive anal leakage.
"Uncle Harry!" Ben sobs pathetically before being bitchslapped by Harry.
"My dear boy, I did not marry your grandfather just for his descendants to refer to me as 'Uncle', you utterly beastly little closet-shagger! And don't think any of my old cellar's stock is going to end up in your poor, smoothe digits! The last and most finest French Absinthe is going to cause MY liver to dissolve, not YOURS, Benji Boy. The finest in food and drink is for me, and if that means the rest of you starve to death, all the better. If you're lucky I shall allow you to suck on a small child's sock which has been in walking distance of a crate of scotch."
It becomes apparent that Uncle Harry is something of a role model to Ben.
"I'm going to return to the estate. You can't come. If I let you into my incredibly cool, comfortable vintage car, your bottom might infect the upholstery with all sorts of awful diseases and then I will forced to phone those nice boys in the police and have them pistol whip you both to death. You, loser, can walk."
"What about me?" asked Katie, hopefully, and gets a kick in the groin for her troubles.
Ben and Katie watch him drive off. Katie suggests they walk and try and enjoy the countryside during the trip, and Ben repeatedly headbuts her.
On the way down the country lane, they pass a group of bald, white-clad Ood dancing in circles, holding hands and shouting "Hecate! Hecate! Hecate! Hecate!" while a Slitheen plucks a banjo sadly and quaffs some single malt.
It has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the story in any way whatsoever, but ironically is far more interesting than the genuine story. Let us bask in this moment and think, for a beautiful second, what MIGHT have been...
...
Bittersweetness.
Oh well, back to the 'plot'.
Katie gives Ben a piggy-back ride, trying to interest Ben with all the odd happenings in Wierd Ness and gets told to shut the fuck up - she'll need male sexual organs before her opinion is worth a damn to any Chatham, and daydreams about the Doctor arriving in his TARDIS with a small army of attractive young men who spend all day and all night worshiping the Order of Saint Chatham the Tosser...
Katie idly asks if she will be allowed her bi-annual sex with Ben's smoothe chest, who rips off her earrings and tells her to shut up and walk faster! He's trying to remember how to use a contact device to summon the Doctor and take him all from all this insane chavish hellhole they call 'reality'.
Finally, they arrive at the house where the butler shoots at them repeatedly until he blows off Katie's kneecap and falls over. The butler runs out, revealing he is a shapely-legged young man in a kilt called Jamie.
Ben cruelly gets up and walks over Katie, forcing her face down into the mud, and explains he is the incredibly great nephew of Harry and ego deserves an IV of absinthe to warm him up, a glass of the finest Jura single malt and unrestricted access to Jamie's erogenous zones.
Harry appears at the window and throws the contents of a chamber pot over Ben, telling him to "stop being so finicky and accept what he is goddamn given".
Ben shakes off the muck and idly wishes he had enough braincells to remember the contact code of the contact device so he could text the Doctor a message to come and rescue him and solve all the problems, allowing Ben to take credit for it. However, he doesn't even have the damn device. It looks like he'll have to do something himself instead of calling on someone else to do all the work while he sits down and gets drunk while having some painful flirtations with butlers...
Katie finally hauls herself out of the mud and screams hysterically. "There was a FACE - at that window there staring in at us..."
"That's only your reflection, numb nut!" Ben sneers and kicks Katie's legs from under her and leaves her in the mud once more.
Part Three: "Quark, Stangeness and Charm" by Hawkwind.
Katie is locked in the broom cupboard and dubbed a mental case by Ben when suddenly a familiar wheezing groaning sound is heard in the entrance hall and a police box appears out of thin air.
The Doctor sticks his head out and looks around. "Sorry," he says, spotting Ben, "Just recalibrating. We'll be right off!"
"No, wait, Doctor! It's me!"
"Is it?... That's nice."
"It is me, Ben Chatham, your faithful companion, the man who justifies your existence as last of the Time Lords! The lover of Rose Tyler! Core of Operation Delta! Boytoy of Harriet Jones! Surely you remember?"
"Not REALLY, no," the Doctor says airily, backing into the TARDIS and making a crucifix with his fingers. "You sure you've got the right Doctor?"
Ben curses himself in his typical sophisticated manner: "FUCK! I forgot it was all a demented absinthe nightmare! But Doctor, you must help me!"
"Why? What's wrong?"
"There might be a new electronics plant near here! The place is swarming with strange white men in white! And two people have been murdered in a car... but I killed them, so that's not really a mystery, so forget that. I'd call the police, but I can't be bothered to! Why don't you turn in and then start in the morning?"
"Yeah..." says the Doctor slowly. "I'll do that... you half-baked psycho person I have never ever met before..."
Suddenly, the 1000-year-old Time Lord screams hysterically, runs into the TARDIS and it dematerializes, leaving Ben alone once more.
Dissapointment, anger, humiliation and confusion cross his smoothe, vacant features as his bowels empty themselves yet again. The stench causes Harry to vomit copiously into his collection of porcelain ashtrays, lumps of carrot smothering the finest Fonthill William Beckford collection.
Ben spots Jamie and orders him to bathe Ben and play the "All Saints" Bowie instrumental collection on a portable CD player, and then get a nightcap. Jamie does so, and as Ben sculls a bottle of cognac and demands Jamie like Bowie's early or else he will thrown out the window and left to the crows to eat.
"You know, you lithe young Scotsman with your dark mysterious eyes, I think you would look good on my arms. For God's sake just TAKE me!"
At that point, Katie bashes her way out of the broom cupboard, gaydar detecting Ben is fraternizing with servants! She charges into the bathroom and screams "Sort yourself out, Ben! Decide what it is you really want! Do you honestly want to end up like an obviously sad old poofter like your uncle? No, you secretly want me to be your proper girlfriend! ADMIT IT!"
Ben grabs Katie by her neck and hurls her out through the window, as he threatened to Jamie. As she falls to the gravel and breaks every bone in her body, Ben shouts, "You still think you know ANYTHING about me, you silly tart? HOW VERY DARE YOU!!"
Ben then demands Jamie tell him a relaxing bedtime story about moneygrabbing vulgar villagers allowing an electronic computer factory to be built in Wierd Ness, specifically one with strange figures roaming the countryside at night.
At that point Harry bursts in and says that he demands Ben pay for the window he just broke. Ben responds by grabbing Harry and drowning him in the bath, admitting this sort of thing is surprisingly easy to do compared to absinthe nightmares or artificial reality.
Yet, for some strange reason Jamie seems oddly reluctant to seduce the smoothe psychopath he sees before him.
Indeed, Jamie runs out of the house screaming "SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE! HELP!"
Ben bravely rushes out...
...AND IS RUN OVER BY A MORRIS MINOR!
Part Four: Mad Dog Ken Patrick Sheepface O'Reily's corporate office at Hadrian's Wall. And Company.
As Ben is slammed to the tarmac, his pathetic excuse for a life flashes before his eyes...
We see Ben moaning about the weather, the rent-a-car, his highly expensive jacket; whilst being condescending and misogynistic to Katie, before deciding to entertain himself by sneaking a perv at some holidaymakers having sex, abandoning them completely after shooting them, insulting Katie some more, getting drunk, getting stroppy with Katie when she doesn't want to rot herself away by guzzling gallon loads of absinthe, and lusting after a butler with shapely legs in a kilt.
This depressing short summary is an incredibly accurate and detailed account of Ben's life to date, and it says a lot even Ben is bored by it, to the point he wakes up.
He finds that he and Katie have been stuffed into the boot of Morris Minor as it drives incredibly recklessly down a dirt track. The only sound bar the driving rain hitting the car windows is Ben sobbing hysterically, begging to be let go and offering dubious sexual favors in return for his life. Katie notes that the Morris Minor is marked "Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit", but Ben tells her to shut up so their captors can better hear his wails of torment.
"Who are you evil people?" moans Ben pathetically.
"Well, since they drive a Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit car and drive to the main Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit building, maybe they work for Wierd Ness Electronics and Shit?"
"Katie, don't make me use force to shut you up."
The Morris Minor stops and two well built, bald, atheletic and above all smoothe men in dark suits, sunglasses and trilby hats emerge, open the boot, hose down Ben and Katie and drag them to the reception desk where a predictably suave-looking man with a tropical tan, a pencil moustache, white business suit and an expression that says "Yeah, I've appeared nude on camera, what of it?"
As Ben and Katie watch, this sophisticated sociopath blows a party razzer and honks a horn on the reception desk, bouncing up and down and screaming, "WELCOME FRIENDS! A THOUSAND WELCOMES!!! MY NAME...."
A long pause. Ben opens his mouth to speak.
"IS SIMON PRATT! But you can call me Herbert West, ReAnimator!!!" the mad, Ken Dodd-like figure screams. "Trust the journey here wasn't too unpleasant, and it was, fuck you then! Let's overcome the intitial impressions and reach an understanding that unfortunate things happen. WHO WANTS GUM? I GOT GUM! WHO WANTS GUM!!"
"Are you for real?" screams Ben in his usual refined way. "Your bastards killed my uncle."
"Uh, no," says Katie quietly. "I think you'll find that YOU killed your uncle, Ben."
Ben headbuts her unconscious. "As I was saying, you killed my uncle!"
Pratt laughs in his face. "Well, saddle up a posse, pilgrim! NOOB!"
"Hah! When the Doctor arrives, he'll find the bodies of the important people you've killed and discover your evil plans and foil them!"
Pratt eats a pencil sharpener. "Nah, we got rid of that little computer bug. Caused us enough trouble the first time."
"You mean, you've encountered the Doctor before!!!"
"Well... YEAH! This IS a sequel to 1966's 'The Wank Machines', you know."
"You mean, 'The War Machines.'"
Pratt snorts some talcum powder. "I KNOW what I mean, whitey!"
Ben goes onto blames Pratt for the couple he murdered earlier. To his describable shock, Pratt admits that the couple weren't even humans but actually a kind of Simpson X-7 washing machine reincarnated in human form. "We still have to iron out the wrinkles," muses Pratt sadly. "Which is why we intend to reincarnate trouser presses in human forms, to iron out the wrinkles of the washing machines in human forms! GOD THIS INEFFICIENCY CHAFES ME TO THE CORE! MY BOLLOCKS ARE RED WITH FRICTION!"
"How you became the boss of an electronics firm is beyond me since you’re clearly insane," says Ben with his usual tact and discretion.
"I'm not insane! YOU'RE insane!"
"No, you're insane!"
"I KNOW YOU ARE BUT WHAT AM I?!?"
This conversation goes on for a while before Pratt suddenly drops his trousers and runs round in circles pretending to be a goat. It is then he reveals he is NOT the boss of Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit, but he is merely a servant of a sophisticated modern computer with HUGE plasma screens. At this point, Pratt starts foaming at the mouth and playing with a huge ball of string, shouting "THIS time, you DIE!!"
After a few minutes, Ben folds his arms. "Uh, hello? Why aren't you telling me your evil plans? Surely you're not just going to kill me like all the others! Damn it, you bitches, I have a first from Cambridge!"
One of the flunkies sighs and takes out a mobile phone with a wallpaper of a sinster, German face with staring eyes.
"And what's that?"
A text message appears on the screen:
WELCOMA FREINDS!11!11 OMG WTF LOL IM WOMAN!11!111
"You don't LOOK like a woman," Ben points out cleverly.
WOMAN SI AN ACRONYM FOR WIL OPARATNG MANIPULA2R AND NAUGHTIFEIR!11!! OMG WTF U SE BN CHATHM PRAT’S FATHER TEH FIRST PROF3SOR PRAT D3SIGNAD A PRO2TYPE OF M3 BAK IN DA 1960S A NASTY LITLA MACHIEN FOR TEH ANJOYM3NT OF DIRTY OLD MAN BUT IT RAVARS3D ITS PROC3S SO INST3AD OF BNG CONTROLED BY MEN IT CONTROLED TEH MIND - AND MOR3 - OF MEN!1111!!11 OMG LOL VERY PRIMITIEV OF COURSA
"Ah yes," Ben notes. "I looked you up on wikipedia! You were a huge reel-to-reel filing cabinet which was smashed the pieces and partially melted when the Doctor discovered you weren't Y2k compliant! And why have you turned yourself into a bloody mobile phone? Haven't you realized being immobile sucks!
BUT WUT HIS FATH3R STARTAD OUT OF CURIOSITY TEH SON CONTINUED OUT OF LOVE!!!11111 OMG WTF
"Right... so a single guy in his mid forties, following a complete nervous breakdown somehow gets a son who decides to build a machine identical to the one that destroyed his father's mind, even though his father didn't even build the original, just finished the UN project?"
LOK PRAT JUST MAREID SOM3 U WOMAN.!1!111!11!!!1!!111!11!!! LOL
"Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuure. So, he goes mad, shacks up with a woman half his age and then, decides to teach the sprog all about computers even though his life was ruined by them. And despite this very good warning of why NOT to build computers that want to rule the world, Simon decides to do it anyway. Instead of say, becoming an amateur archaelogist or any number of other talents. He decides to take up the same profession that drove his father insane."
LOK PROFESOR PRAT R3MANEED INTAREST3D IN COMPUTERS AND D3TERMIEND 2 TRY AND WORK OUT WUT W3NT WRONG WIT HIS ORIGINAL WOMAN AND BUILD SOM3THNG WITHOUT TH3SE FAULTS - BUT HIS SON WAS A LON3Y AND DIDNT!1!1! OMG
"Like a Chenobyl survivor trying to build a better atom bomb?"
A BIT!!!1!1! WTF
"So, who was the mother of this psycho?"
PRAT MAREID A U WOMAN HIS SACRATARY JUST OUT OF COL3GE!111!11!1
"He married Polly Wright? Jesus, even I can see that for the sickeningly unbelievable retcon it is!"
SHUT UP MOTH3RFUKAR!1!1!11 WTF IM TEH FUTURE GOVERNMENT OF THES PLAENT B/C IM A PARF3CTLEY RATIONAL COMPUTER SYSTEM!1111! OMG LOL
"You, rational! Hah! I've heard more rational things from David Blunket! You're still a box of flashing lights that can't move, defend itself, or even use the meanest of logic against your opponents! I mean, look at the guy who built you!" Ben protests, pointing at Simon Pratt as he hoks up a furball. "How did he recreate the sentience of WOMAN especially considering the original Pratt didn't know it happened any way."
SHUT UP!!!1!!11! WTF UR JUST BNG IENFICEINT AND ILOGICAL!!1!1!1 OMG LOL STUPID ORGANIC CREATURAS NO WONDAR DA PLAENT SI BNG D3VOURED BY OVER-POPULATION POLUTION WAR AND GIANT BROWN LIZARDS!!11!!!! OMG LOL HUMANITY NEDS LOGICAL CONTROL!11!!11 OMG WTF LOL AND RAPLAECMANT BY TEH LAETST 3NHANC3D HUMAN AUGMANTED R3PLAQCAMENT UNITS!1111 WTF LOL
"Replaced by what?"
CYBORGS U RETARD!!!1!1!11 OMG WTF
"Oh right. So, you think the best way to save mankind is to take it over, then wipe it out!"
TAHTS IT BITCH U GOT DA PICTUR3!!!1! OMG LOL
"Why not just stay where he is and let them wipe themselves out by themselves?"
A long pause.
FUK THIS I SHAL NOW HYPNOTIEZ BOTH OF U LOSARS!!!!!
"Oh, this is madness," shouts Ben. "I demand you release us now!" But this insane optimism is misplaced!
WUT 3VER...
The room goes fuzzy as a haze engulfs Ben's walnut-sized brain. Swirling spirals and rhythmic pulsing fill the air. Suddenly, Wierd Ness Electronics and Shit has become one huge rave party as everyone starts dancing and blowing whistles with joysticks and Pratt, wearing a jester's hat, starts moonwalking as the theme tune to The A Team is remixed and blared.
"Woohoo!" Ben screams, jumping up and down, waving his hands in the air. "I will serve WOMAN! YOYOYOYOOOO!!"
Part Five: So Strange, Even The Name Looks Like A Typo.
The mighty WOMAN, most brilliant and logical creation in the history of time, sets its mindless slaves to begin the Great Work...
...
...OF STACKING BOXES ON A LORRY!
"Why the fuck can't we get a fork-lift truck?" groans Ben as he tries to lift a crate with his smoothe, atrophied limbs, causing a nasty popping sound in his midriff and condemning him to piss blood for the next six weeks. "This isn't exactly logical, is it? Why don't you get the fucking cyborgs to lend a hand over the inefficient humans? Dear god, these plain, obese bastards aren't easy on the eye... Hey, Katie, let's stop pretending, they can't hear us. Let's make a run for it!"
Katie starts shouting "HE'S BEING DISINGENUOUS! HE'S AN ENEMY! KILL HIM!"
Ben deduces that Katie is actually under the hypnotic control of WOMAN. Actually, his first impression - that WOMAN has the mesmeric capacity of a squahsed eggplant and they were just faking - is correct but Katie has had enough of this shit and tries to kill Ben with a tire-iron. Ben runs for his life, wailing, "Katie, baby, it wasn't always like this, you stupid, clingy woman!" as he tries to avoid having nine colours of shit kicked out of him.
Ben flees across the yard, behind the lorry, through a series of metallic wheelie-bins placed there for absolutely no other purporse than to provide cover for escaping prisoners. Flexing his muscular arms, the rippling Ben Chatham tries to climb the fence, not realizing that the moonlight highlighting his physique is also revealing him to the army of slaves.
Worse, Ben is so utterly puny he can't even hold his own body weight and falls off the fence. He tries three times, and only manages to climb over after his hand is caught on barbed wire. He falls to the other side of the fence with a mutilated hand, and promptly loses conciousness and empties his bowels again.
Back inside the firm, WOMAN's mighty brain power is turned on the problem and realizes that being a small cellphone is actually not a clever move. She thus decides to pinch Ben's idea and download her whole intelligence into an indestructible android body... and REALLY indestructible, this time, not just "vulnerable to archaeology books being thrown at zero velocity at the back of its head" indestructible.
Meanwhile, Simon Pratt howls and screams as he urinates on a desk, shouting "I AM A LAWNMOWER!! FEAR MEEEEE!!!"
Outside, the moronic slaves have still failed to capture Ben who stumbles off into the heather to avoid recapture, losing pints of blood in the processess.
His vision dims, his tastebuds switch off, and as his brain starts to die, Ben's IQ correspondingly rises and all thoughts of getting drunk and sorting it all out in the morning are forgotten. As he grows faint, he deduces that taking off his shirt and getting drunk while listening to rubbish music WON'T magically save the day on its own and make everyone cheer him.
Ben is now so lucid he realizes that Weird Ness Electronics And Shit is actually within spitting distance of Loch Chav.
As Ben wonders just how he got into this, how Simon Pratt could possibly have recreated the sentience of WOMAN when nothing of the original existed, or why they've named it WOMAN again just to attract attention, why anyone would start to invade the Earth from Wierd Ness, and why the revelant anti-alien authorities haven't already noticed about this, he feels a song come on.
"Take a drink,
And you'll sink,
To a world of pure inebriation
Unless you are a chav
Then I'll DROWN you
In here..."
Ben gazes at the moonlight glistening on the ripples, and wonders where all the storm weather went to. Instantly it starts to rain again.
Suddenly, two humanoid creatures with distorted features and misshapen heads emerge from the water, raising their scaly claws...
"Oh, no, not again!" sobs Ben.
Meanwhile, WOMAN is downloading herself into her new mechanical body. The machine appears to be a double of Freema Agyeman (who, like Michael Sheard, is an evolutionary standard for humanoid life throughout the universe). In a strange, sing-song yodel, the machine - hereafter refered to as the Sparthabot -
starts to lurch around the place.
"I DISLIEK THES ARCHIETCTURE!" the Sparthabot grates. "IT SI 2TALY IRASPONSIBL3 OF PLANERS 2 ALOW SUCH DEV3LOPM3NTS IN DA SCOTISH COUNTRYSIED!1!!11 OMG LOL"
The Sparthabot turns to address her army of dull people who act like slaves and pretend to be hypnotized for the hell of it. "Y HAEVNT U CAUGHT BN CHATHM?!!?! OMG UR BHAVIOR SI FRANKLEY IR3SPONSIBLA!11!11!1 THES SI NOT A GME!1!11 LOL"
"We know," Katie points out, annoyed. "What are you? An IMDb poster or something?"
"GROW UP!!!!!"
"Ooh, great comeback!" Pratt jeers.
Meanwhile, back at Loch Chav, Ben is still screaming hysterically.
Part Six: Wee Jock McHaggis-Sporran In An Exciting Adventure With A Load Of Old Pony
Ben has another strange moment as he wonders if his adventures are simply being masterminded by some irredeemable user of words it doesn't properly understand, a monomaniac of the highest order whose stories are the worst ever written and any production team would pour petrol over themselves and light themself afire, en masse, rather than EVER have to read any of this stuff ever again.
Meanwhile, a few metres away sits John Cleese in a tuxedo. "Later tonight, we'll be discussing the important questions raised by this part of 'Durainged Fuking Ensanitee' including 'Will there ever be a cohesive plot?', 'Just what incredible events will happen off-camera and be heard about later on?', 'Why has no one shot Chatham yet?', 'Just how incompetent is WOMAN, anyway?', 'Will a random switch on the TARDIS console solve the entire problem and how will Ben Chatham take credit despite not doing anything at all useful?' and the most pivotal question of all: 'Is "firm inner thigh" the new "smoothe chest"? But now, for something completely identical.'
Ben continues to be horrified as the deformed creatures lunge at him. "Och it’s a rare night to be ooot orn the road laddie," wheezes one of the monsters. "Canna give ya a lift?"
"What?!" he exclaims in a refined way. "Aren't you the results of Pratt's moronic genetic experiments designed to augment the numan race, combined with cybernetics?"
"Eh, what's 'numan'?" asks the other creature.
"Oh, sorry. I MEANT to say, 'Aren't you the results of Pratt's moronic genetic experiments designed to augment the HUMAN race, combined with cybernetics?'"
"Eh? Hell no, ya daft sassenach bastard!" laughs one of the Lovecraftian beasts. "We're the locals of Wierd Ness! Ah'm Hamish, and this ere be Campbell. We're swingers, we are, we're great fuckbuddies of Harry. Your smoothe flesh and lack of mental capacity sergest ya young Ben Chatham, eh?"
"When were the last tame ye came and forgoot were you were?" asks Campbell, apropos of nothing.
"Well, Uncle Harry is dead, so no gay sex for you twisted gonads!"
"I thought Ben Chatham was the biggest mysognist in the Outer Hebridies," Hamish says, frowning. "He's a homophobe as well."
"Aye, mysogny and homophobia," Campbell agrees. "Strange bedfellows."
"And so are we!" Hamish laughs, fingering his moustache in a suggestive manner.
"EXCUSE ME!" Ben screams. "I demand you take me to my uncle's house so I may take my inheritance."
"Why not, yer spineless goon," Cambell sneers and three of them climb into a nearby van.
"Aye," Hamish says as they drive out, "it’s a rare night to be oot."
"I know, you said that already!" Ben shouts. "Fuck it, you Scots are such stupid arseholes!"
"When the mist comes down across the loch things can happen round here. Strange, sinister things."
"Which is why we hide in Loch Chav and indecently expose ourselves to herring," Campbell chips in. "Cud ah place meh scaly claw on yer knee and slowly move round to yer firm inner thigh?"
Ben is aghast... and finally passes out from blood loss.
"Great! Put the racist pig in that gingham dress and the fun can REALLY begin!" Hamish cackles.
Meanwhile, back at the Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit plant, the Sparthabot continues to bitch at her slaves as they lift crates into a lorry. Katie asks just exactly what the hell they're doing moving empty crates onto a lorry and shipping them all over Scotland.
"ITS A TAEKOVAR BID!1!!!!1 OMG WTF!" Sparthabot shouts. "I DONT HAEV 2 AXPLANE ANYTHNG 2 U!11!! WTF!"
"Sod this for a game of soldiers," Katie complains and storms off.
Meanwhile, Ben Chatham awakes to find himself being sodomized by two different mutant Scotsmen simultaneously. Swift as the greyhound, strong as a gorilla, as intelligent as a nerf ball, Ben leaps out of the car and runs through the heather before arriving at Uncle Harry's house.
Katie arrives, and they are both shot at by Jamie who screams everyone has gone fucking insane and they're not getting HIM, buster!
Katie gives Jamie a slap which revives Jamie from this state, and Ben respondes by repeatedly slamming Katie's head into his kneecap, then punches her in the face over and over again, before hurling her into the fireplace.
"Right," Ben explains. "Professor Pratt is a half-baked insane lunatic, who somewhere in his disturbed mind has the desire to inflict on himself the kinky domination his father suffered at the hands of WOMAN. He has built a far less dangerous and more loopy version of the computer and it is conducting genetic and cyborg experiments with a view to produce a new species of human race, one that is devoid of all that the machine considers to be imperfections such as compassion and emotion. Now, let's have some brandy and sleep on it. It's rather late and these things always sort themselves out..."
Ben is rather put out when Jamie screams: 'YOU'RE A FUCKING NUTTER!' and runs for his life upstairs, wailing unhappily.
Ben figets helplessly, then notices Katie - shards of broken glass in her head - is staggering to her feet, so he drop kicks her again.
Part Seven: Oh Go Away And Sort It Out For Yourself, Chatham.
At last, the cliches of cliches is at an end. This tale of men in black, weird cultists, pub owners sharing strange stories of questionable interest, senseless and unexplained murders, absinthe, Ben's albums, Ben's expensive accessories getting ruined, mysoginy, homophobia, lashings of snobbery and villains explaining their plots to their captives in incredibly corny dialogue is at an end. Soon, the vacuous dialoge, non-existant plotting, characterisation notable only for its abscence, rampant alcoholism, sexism, classism and predjudice, slavish adherance to an outmoded and repressive political system and a complete lack of thrills 'n' chills 'n' spills will soon be over!
This ultimate episode begins with Ben failing, yet again, to understand that children's heroes don't get themselves soused for the hell of it rather than saving the world.
Having dropped a sofa on Katie's head, Ben stalks through the house clutching a fire axe and hissing, "No sex and no absinthe make Ben a homicidal lunatic!" and shouting "Here's Benjiiii!" as he bursts into the countless bedrooms of the manor house.
Finally, he locates Jamie hiding in Uncle Harry's room and immediately locks him in and starts to remove his clothing. Jamie is not in the mood to be seduced on a dead man's bed and not even an offer of playing Harry's bagpipes will sway him.
"You come round here, beat us all up, murder Harry and now you're going to rape me!"
"Untrue!" Ben says before picking up the bagpipes and bashing Jamie round the head with them. "Do you think I'd risk damaging these if I wasn't such a good lover? These bagpipes belong King James the Fourth of Scotland before the accident with the contraceptive and the time machine whereupon he became King James the First of England! He gave them to the Duke of Buckingham who sold them to cover his opium addiction which Harry was naturally the supplier! They still work - now are you gonna give me some sugar or am I going to have to play Flowers in the Forrest?"
Given this impossible choice, Jamie breaks down in hysterical sobs.
Ben is about to have this wicked way when he realizes... JAMIE IS A GIRL! (Now that is some really poor visual continuity...)
BEN NEARLY RAPED... A WOMAN!!!
Ben screams hysterically and runs to the mirror and begins to hack off his blonde locks with a blunt pair of scissors, carving the words BAD WOLF THINKS I'M A CHAV on his face as he does so.
Suddenly, a curled up figure smashes through the window behind them, straightens out and lands perfectly to reveal...
"Martha Jones?" asks Ben, astounded, his fragile little mind shaken to its core.
"NO!!11!! OMG LOL IT SI I, WOMAN, IN HUMANOID FORM!1!!1!!!! OMG LOL 'SMUG POINTL3S ANDROID ROBOT TAHT HAETS ANYONE' BUT U CAN CAL ME.!!!!1!!1!!!11!1 WTF LOL S.P.A.R.T.H,A!!!!!!11!1!11!!1!1!! OMG WTF!"
Ben gamely hides behind the bag pipes as the Sparthabot lurches towards him.
"IM UNIMPR3SED BY DA D3COR!111!11! OMG WTF LOL THES CUD B A RILLY NIEC ROM IF SOMAONA ALTAR3D TEH COLOURSCHAME AND R3MOVAD THOSE AWFUL PICTUR3S OF NAEKD GREKS!1!!!!!1 OMG WTF LOL!"
"How dare you suggest redecorating this room!" Ben shouts as he hides.
"DONT TRY 2 S3DUCE ME BN CHATHM!!11!1 I KNOW UR TACTIS BOY!!!1! LOL U AND I STAY PURELEY PLA2NIC AS I PLAN TEH ANIHILATION OF HUMANITY!!111!111 OMG WTF"
"You robo-slag! Leave me alone!"It's because of you I was getting felt up by those mutated ethnic stereotypes!"
"I WAS SIMPLEY SIMPLEY EXPARIEMNTNG WIT DA IMPRESIONIST STYLA OF RONALD FIRBANK!1!!1 OMG OF COURSA U KNOW THOS3 AERNT REAL SCOTSM3N HEAEVNS NO!1!!!1!!1 OMG WTF THEY R ARTIFICIAL SCOTSM3N!111!!11 WTF THES SI PART OF WUT SI CAL3D 'ART', U INBRED BARBARIAN!!11! WTF LOL"
"Bitch!"
"O GROW UP!!! MAH SLAEVS R ALRAADY APROACHNG THES HOUES THROUGH DA THIK SCOTISH MIST BLOWN IN FROM DA LOCH!!!!11111 OMG WTF IMA SHIT U UP MOFO!!!1!1 OMG LOL"
Ben wails unhappily as the distinctive sound of slave bursting in through the front door in a convertible can be heard. Desperately, he tries to drown it out with the bagpipes, and the augmented cyborgs hear the noise and start screaming with agony.
Ben laughs with delight. "It must be the bagpipe notes interfering with the frequency of the mind control waves! Their brains must be haemorraging!"
"NO!" the Sparthabot protests. "TAHT SI JUST TEH WORST FUKNG BAGPIEP PLAYNG IVE 3VER H3ARD IN MAH ANTIER LIEF!111! OMG WTF GOD KENY G HAS NOTHNG ON U U ATONAL FUKNG NOIES DEFECA2R!!11!1! OMG SHUT DA FUK UP!!!!1!!!1!1! WTF THAT NOISE IS BAD!"
"Hahah! I defeat you!"
"U DEAEFN US MORE LIEK U RETARD!1111!! LOL S2P TAHT FUKNG NOIES!!!!1!!111!! WTF!!"
"Never!"
"U WIL PAY FOR THIS!!!!1!!1! OMG WTF HUMANITY STANES THES PLAENT LIEK FILTH!11111!!1 LOL IT MUST B CLEANSED - STARTNG WIT U CHAV-FUKER!11!! WTF"
Desperate to stop the noise, the cyborgs rip their own heads off. Luckily, Simon Pratt has arrived, armed with a Luger!
"PRAT!!1!!!111 WTF KIL TAHT MOFO!1111111 OMG LOL"
Pratt turns and shoots the Sparthabot, who collapses with a groaned, "U HAEV GOT 2 B FUKNG KIDNG ME.!!1111!1!11!!!1!!!! WTF U STUPID PRAT!!111!!1 OMG!"
"You're unhinged!" Ben challenges.
"You know, you might just be right," Pratt muses before grabbing a vase from the landing table and smashes it over his own head. Pratt slips, falls backwards off the landing, plummets three metres and cracks his head on the flagstone wall before an antique suit of medieval armor Uncle Harry used for sex games falls atop Pratt, crushing him into a paste.
"WUT A PRAT!!11!111 WTF" Sparthabot groans.
"You know, Spartha," Ben asks, "does your undying rage at the world around you allow you to feel any other emotions?"
"LIEK WUT?!!?!"
"Happiness? Sadness? Fear?"
"NO NOT RILLY."
Ben crosses to the window and eagerly awaits the arrival of UNIT in order for him to gain recognition and adoration. He cracks open a bottle of single malt and rehearses an embarrassed, modest smile as the latest male Brigadier worships him for his brilliance of convincing UNIT of the severity of the threat... until Sparthabot points out he hasn't actually contacted them yet.
"Damn it! Can you at least tell Brigadier Ashton when he turns up I single handedly sprayed you with bullets and triggered a resulting fire that destroyed you off-screen, allowing me to take all the credit as you vanish into silicon hell?"
The Sparthabot looks thoughtful. "AND TEH SURVEY SADE... FUK OFF!!!1"
Ben bursts into tears, realizing he will never repay his debt to society SO well, he'd be in such extreme credit that he could steamroller all the world's kittens and still not be hated by all the common people.
"Oh, to have kitten-steamrollering privileges at last..." he weeps.
Then he remembers why he came to Weird Ness in the first place and runs downstairs to the well-stocked cellar. "Well done, me! I'm a hero! So let's PARRRRRRRRTAYYYY!!!"
Katie finds himself drinking absinthe like tap water.
"I don't know about you, Katie," Ben slurs, newly-grown braincells already liquefying, "but this adventure has proved a lurning curve for me. I don't some some Time Lord wanker to turn up and save the day. I can just rely on the armed services to do that with grotesque amounts of civilian casualties and collatoral damage. I feel major new character developments about to occur."
Katie is concerned. "Are you going to enrol in therapy and Alcoholics Anonymous?"
Ben stares at her. "No. Why would I enrol in Alcoholics Anonymous? I don't have a drinking problem."
"A drinking problem?!" Katie exclaims. "For the last three months you spent every single day lying on the sofa, guzzling from a 10 litre bottle of White Shite Cider, swearing at Jeremy Kyle, having mastubatory fantasies about Boyd from Neighbours, before falling asleep covered in your own vomit and wee! OF COURSE YOU'VE GOT A PROBLEM!"
"Nonsense! I'm a highly intelligent individual with an appreciation for wine and food, and given the exceptionally difficult life I lead, saving the world and putting up with you, I deserve to relax with a good bottle or thirty-seven of Absinthe..."
"Then what are the major new character developments?"
"I'm going to put you into a lunatic asylum of course, so I don't have to put up with the stench of your disgusting feminine hygene products!" Ben says cheerfully before beating her unconscious with a fireplace poker.
And so, in an ending keeping the Scottish theme, Ben laughs and drinks.
And drinks.
And drinks.
And drinks.
And drinks.
And drinks...
...until his liver explodes in a spectacular special effect.
Meanwhile, on the BBC website audio commentary transcribed by the Mighty Cameron J Mason of Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe:
Julie Gardner: Hoorah!
RTD: How fantastic were the Mill with that effect!
Phil Collinson: They said it couldn't be done on the budget assigned, but they worked the extra hours and it has certainly paid off.
RTD: A round of applause for the hard workers at the Mill!
Julie/Phil/RTD: Hoorah! *clapping*, etc...
THE END
Part 1: Love & Absinthe
Like any good adventure, this Season 29 adventure begins with the Doctor and Martha facing the Luxorite Perfection Machines as they storm the Island of Crete, 508 BC, with their lethal medieval ideas of superiority on the human race!
Tragically, however, this is NOT a good adventure, so instead we locate ourselves in a 2009 Cambridge flat where Ben Chatham is slobbing around, idly logging onto Insecurities.com only to banned for the fourth consecutive time as an 'absinthe-soaked wank biscuit'. Every day he dreams for the Doctor and Martha to suddenly know who he is and rush to pick him up and travel into new and interesting adventures.
But they don't.
At all.
His trophy girlfriend Katie Ryan tries to excite him by dressing up as Bruno Langley and noting a 'seahemnge monument of unprecedented archaeological importance' has been discovered inside her underwear.
As ever, Ben is uninterested in her unsmoothe estrogen-caked repulsive form, and it only when he discovers that he has consumed the entire absinthe supply of Eastern AND Western Europe that he sits up, stops wanking and takes notice.
It becomes horribly obvious that unless he gets a new supply of the min-annihilating, suicide-inducing, clown-molesting plonk, Ben might actually sober up!!
The only other person who is a bigger pisshead than Ben Chatham is his uncle Harry, homosexual charicature and Upper Class Twit of the Year eighteen years running, who has been dubbed a biohazard and quarantined in a small estate on the West Coast of Scotland near the-so-small-it-often-gets-lost-under-the-staple village of Wierd Ness.
He was placed there in the hope his contamination would wipe out Wierd Ness since its population consists entirely of Scottish stereotypes, English ex-pats and patronizing gentry who think the place is "charming and colourful". They too have been relocated to Wierd Ness since the late nineteenth century and it was hoped that Harry would create a critical mass of poofy reactionaries and ideally wipe out every living thing.
Tragically, it just proves what wounded idealists and heavy drug users controlled Britain twenty years ago...
Ben decides that the time has come - like it always does in life - for him to brutally murder his own uncle and steal his remaining supplies of absinthe.
Ben decides that Katie can take a break from cooking, cleaning and bathing his smoothe, lucious chest and instead drive him all the way to Wierd Ness while he relaxes in the back seat with a perpetually-looped tape of Kraftwerk's Trans-Europe Express blotting out her repugnant feminine mewling of "You know, you really SHOULD take that medicine the doctors proscribed you".
Katie finds the trip less than pleasant as not only have to regularly stop to change Ben's incontinence trousers, but also the pleasant weather turns out to be dark, freezing rain and vicious coastal winds howling around them. And despite Ben's insistance that the natives are very friendly, the blood drenched skeleton dangling from a tree with a sign proclaiming "ONLY THE LOCAL SHALL LIVE!!" suggests that maybe they should have gone to Eastbourne instead.
A man-trap punctures the left front tire, flipping the car into a ditch and sending Katie through the windscreen into the pelting rain outside. Frustrated at his self-induced coma has been ruined, Ben climbs out into the elements... stupidly realizing not only has he gone out into the miserable weather wearing a jacket costing £700, he is naked from the waist down.
Rather than worrying about dying of exposure, or the fact he is a posterchild of 1980s consumerism, he muses he will have to walk all three yards to the village in the rain. So he finds Katie and bashes her head against the steering wheel of the car repeatedly, shouting "DAMN YOU, WOMAN! HOW DARE YOU EXACERBATE MY MOOD WITH YOUR DISEASED OVARIES?!?"
He then forces Katie to give him a piggy-back ride and be damn grateful for the opportunity. As she staggers through the rain and sleet, Ben spots another car smashed into a tree and idiotically hopes that it might be able to give him a lift for the next two yards.
Katie meekly points out that all the windows are steamed up, the occupants are moaning to themselves and there is a sign in the back window saying IF THIS CAR'S A-ROCKIN, DON'T COME A KNOCKIN, and suggests they are having wild underage sex.
Delighted, Ben pulls on Katie's hair until she takes him over to the window and allow him "a little surreptitious peep" and indulge his vice of voyeurism. Ben kicks open the window, and is upset to discover that not only are the occupants fully-clothed but have actually been involved in a hideous car crash. When he realizes that one of them is another woman, Ben instinctively draws a gun and shoots her through the neck.
"She’s dead," Ben announces darkly.
"No shit, really?" asked Katie, stunned.
In a sudden paranoid delusion, Ben notes that the injured man looks a little bit like Charles Broxby, another part of Ben's imagination that hates his guts, and so Ben shoots him as well. He orders Katie not to go for her mobile or he'll kill her too.
"There's no need to be so nasty, Ben," Katie points out before Ben calls her "numb nut" and smacks her repeatedly in the face.
Ben pisses on the corpses and decides to tell everyone the local electronics firm were responsible... until it strikes him that the chances of a tiny village like Wierd Ness having a thriving, immoral electronics industry is actually rather unlikely.
Ben has Katie carry him to the local pub "The Scottish Yobbo", its solitary neon sign FREE HAGGIS blowing in the wind. The pub is deserted bar the tall landlord with the beard so heavy it requires its own wheelbarrow. Stern and unwelcoming, the publican tosses a caber at them and tell them fuck off out of his pub.
Ben insists he must be given shelter and absinthe - it's rough work murdering innocent heterosexuals! What's more, the foul non-English weather have made him quite parched, so he demands a double of the finest single malt, and breaks Katie's nose when she tries to order a rum and coke.
The landlord, Angus Podgorning, explains they are closed and tells them to get their sasenach scrotums out of his pub or he'll set his pet man-eating blacmange on them - like the last couple whose car broke down and were foolish enough to enter the village. The police that came looking for them were also fet to his pet blacmanage, who is constantly straining at its leesh to dive into Loch Chav and feast on young flesh. Angus drools, his eyes wide and staring as he puts on a record of BBC stock dramatic music and plays Three Blind Mice on the Edison Telegraph.
"He's nice," Katie says brightly before Ben punches her in the face for daring to speak before being spoken to.
Since Harry's estate is five miles away from The Scottish Yobbo and unnatural beasts roam the streets through the sleeting rain, Angus tells Ben and Katie to get out before his pal Leatherface finishes sewing a kilt and attacks!
Ben giggles happily. This is just like his dream life of adventuring through time and space - wandering randomly into danger which coincidentally happens to be where he was going, a small isolate village, murdered people, bizarre locals with strange Scottish-Geordie accents, and Katie acting stupid so he can thump her. Once he can find his absinthe, all he needs is some Bowie in the background for him to remove his shirt and achieve Chatham Nirvana: being a total tosser yet simultaneously a children's hero...
At that moment, the door of the pub bangs in the wind, and Ben shits himself in mortal terror at the crappy weather, staining the carpet irrevocably.
Part 2: Whiskey Galore
Under gunpoint, Katie cleans up Ben's bodily waste for the fifth time that day as Uncle Harry minces in, wearing a gentlemen's cape he stole from an actual gentlemen and generally trying to out-camp Richard Griffiths in Whitnail & I.
By a staggering coincidence, he happened to be skipping gaily through the sleet and rain without being set upon by chainsaw-wielding maniacs or prehistoric sea monsters and smelt Ben's distinctive anal leakage.
"Uncle Harry!" Ben sobs pathetically before being bitchslapped by Harry.
"My dear boy, I did not marry your grandfather just for his descendants to refer to me as 'Uncle', you utterly beastly little closet-shagger! And don't think any of my old cellar's stock is going to end up in your poor, smoothe digits! The last and most finest French Absinthe is going to cause MY liver to dissolve, not YOURS, Benji Boy. The finest in food and drink is for me, and if that means the rest of you starve to death, all the better. If you're lucky I shall allow you to suck on a small child's sock which has been in walking distance of a crate of scotch."
It becomes apparent that Uncle Harry is something of a role model to Ben.
"I'm going to return to the estate. You can't come. If I let you into my incredibly cool, comfortable vintage car, your bottom might infect the upholstery with all sorts of awful diseases and then I will forced to phone those nice boys in the police and have them pistol whip you both to death. You, loser, can walk."
"What about me?" asked Katie, hopefully, and gets a kick in the groin for her troubles.
Ben and Katie watch him drive off. Katie suggests they walk and try and enjoy the countryside during the trip, and Ben repeatedly headbuts her.
On the way down the country lane, they pass a group of bald, white-clad Ood dancing in circles, holding hands and shouting "Hecate! Hecate! Hecate! Hecate!" while a Slitheen plucks a banjo sadly and quaffs some single malt.
It has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the story in any way whatsoever, but ironically is far more interesting than the genuine story. Let us bask in this moment and think, for a beautiful second, what MIGHT have been...
...
Bittersweetness.
Oh well, back to the 'plot'.
Katie gives Ben a piggy-back ride, trying to interest Ben with all the odd happenings in Wierd Ness and gets told to shut the fuck up - she'll need male sexual organs before her opinion is worth a damn to any Chatham, and daydreams about the Doctor arriving in his TARDIS with a small army of attractive young men who spend all day and all night worshiping the Order of Saint Chatham the Tosser...
Katie idly asks if she will be allowed her bi-annual sex with Ben's smoothe chest, who rips off her earrings and tells her to shut up and walk faster! He's trying to remember how to use a contact device to summon the Doctor and take him all from all this insane chavish hellhole they call 'reality'.
Finally, they arrive at the house where the butler shoots at them repeatedly until he blows off Katie's kneecap and falls over. The butler runs out, revealing he is a shapely-legged young man in a kilt called Jamie.
Ben cruelly gets up and walks over Katie, forcing her face down into the mud, and explains he is the incredibly great nephew of Harry and ego deserves an IV of absinthe to warm him up, a glass of the finest Jura single malt and unrestricted access to Jamie's erogenous zones.
Harry appears at the window and throws the contents of a chamber pot over Ben, telling him to "stop being so finicky and accept what he is goddamn given".
Ben shakes off the muck and idly wishes he had enough braincells to remember the contact code of the contact device so he could text the Doctor a message to come and rescue him and solve all the problems, allowing Ben to take credit for it. However, he doesn't even have the damn device. It looks like he'll have to do something himself instead of calling on someone else to do all the work while he sits down and gets drunk while having some painful flirtations with butlers...
Katie finally hauls herself out of the mud and screams hysterically. "There was a FACE - at that window there staring in at us..."
"That's only your reflection, numb nut!" Ben sneers and kicks Katie's legs from under her and leaves her in the mud once more.
Part Three: "Quark, Stangeness and Charm" by Hawkwind.
Katie is locked in the broom cupboard and dubbed a mental case by Ben when suddenly a familiar wheezing groaning sound is heard in the entrance hall and a police box appears out of thin air.
The Doctor sticks his head out and looks around. "Sorry," he says, spotting Ben, "Just recalibrating. We'll be right off!"
"No, wait, Doctor! It's me!"
"Is it?... That's nice."
"It is me, Ben Chatham, your faithful companion, the man who justifies your existence as last of the Time Lords! The lover of Rose Tyler! Core of Operation Delta! Boytoy of Harriet Jones! Surely you remember?"
"Not REALLY, no," the Doctor says airily, backing into the TARDIS and making a crucifix with his fingers. "You sure you've got the right Doctor?"
Ben curses himself in his typical sophisticated manner: "FUCK! I forgot it was all a demented absinthe nightmare! But Doctor, you must help me!"
"Why? What's wrong?"
"There might be a new electronics plant near here! The place is swarming with strange white men in white! And two people have been murdered in a car... but I killed them, so that's not really a mystery, so forget that. I'd call the police, but I can't be bothered to! Why don't you turn in and then start in the morning?"
"Yeah..." says the Doctor slowly. "I'll do that... you half-baked psycho person I have never ever met before..."
Suddenly, the 1000-year-old Time Lord screams hysterically, runs into the TARDIS and it dematerializes, leaving Ben alone once more.
Dissapointment, anger, humiliation and confusion cross his smoothe, vacant features as his bowels empty themselves yet again. The stench causes Harry to vomit copiously into his collection of porcelain ashtrays, lumps of carrot smothering the finest Fonthill William Beckford collection.
Ben spots Jamie and orders him to bathe Ben and play the "All Saints" Bowie instrumental collection on a portable CD player, and then get a nightcap. Jamie does so, and as Ben sculls a bottle of cognac and demands Jamie like Bowie's early or else he will thrown out the window and left to the crows to eat.
"You know, you lithe young Scotsman with your dark mysterious eyes, I think you would look good on my arms. For God's sake just TAKE me!"
At that point, Katie bashes her way out of the broom cupboard, gaydar detecting Ben is fraternizing with servants! She charges into the bathroom and screams "Sort yourself out, Ben! Decide what it is you really want! Do you honestly want to end up like an obviously sad old poofter like your uncle? No, you secretly want me to be your proper girlfriend! ADMIT IT!"
Ben grabs Katie by her neck and hurls her out through the window, as he threatened to Jamie. As she falls to the gravel and breaks every bone in her body, Ben shouts, "You still think you know ANYTHING about me, you silly tart? HOW VERY DARE YOU!!"
Ben then demands Jamie tell him a relaxing bedtime story about moneygrabbing vulgar villagers allowing an electronic computer factory to be built in Wierd Ness, specifically one with strange figures roaming the countryside at night.
At that point Harry bursts in and says that he demands Ben pay for the window he just broke. Ben responds by grabbing Harry and drowning him in the bath, admitting this sort of thing is surprisingly easy to do compared to absinthe nightmares or artificial reality.
Yet, for some strange reason Jamie seems oddly reluctant to seduce the smoothe psychopath he sees before him.
Indeed, Jamie runs out of the house screaming "SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE! HELP!"
Ben bravely rushes out...
...AND IS RUN OVER BY A MORRIS MINOR!
Part Four: Mad Dog Ken Patrick Sheepface O'Reily's corporate office at Hadrian's Wall. And Company.
As Ben is slammed to the tarmac, his pathetic excuse for a life flashes before his eyes...
We see Ben moaning about the weather, the rent-a-car, his highly expensive jacket; whilst being condescending and misogynistic to Katie, before deciding to entertain himself by sneaking a perv at some holidaymakers having sex, abandoning them completely after shooting them, insulting Katie some more, getting drunk, getting stroppy with Katie when she doesn't want to rot herself away by guzzling gallon loads of absinthe, and lusting after a butler with shapely legs in a kilt.
This depressing short summary is an incredibly accurate and detailed account of Ben's life to date, and it says a lot even Ben is bored by it, to the point he wakes up.
He finds that he and Katie have been stuffed into the boot of Morris Minor as it drives incredibly recklessly down a dirt track. The only sound bar the driving rain hitting the car windows is Ben sobbing hysterically, begging to be let go and offering dubious sexual favors in return for his life. Katie notes that the Morris Minor is marked "Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit", but Ben tells her to shut up so their captors can better hear his wails of torment.
"Who are you evil people?" moans Ben pathetically.
"Well, since they drive a Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit car and drive to the main Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit building, maybe they work for Wierd Ness Electronics and Shit?"
"Katie, don't make me use force to shut you up."
The Morris Minor stops and two well built, bald, atheletic and above all smoothe men in dark suits, sunglasses and trilby hats emerge, open the boot, hose down Ben and Katie and drag them to the reception desk where a predictably suave-looking man with a tropical tan, a pencil moustache, white business suit and an expression that says "Yeah, I've appeared nude on camera, what of it?"
As Ben and Katie watch, this sophisticated sociopath blows a party razzer and honks a horn on the reception desk, bouncing up and down and screaming, "WELCOME FRIENDS! A THOUSAND WELCOMES!!! MY NAME...."
A long pause. Ben opens his mouth to speak.
"IS SIMON PRATT! But you can call me Herbert West, ReAnimator!!!" the mad, Ken Dodd-like figure screams. "Trust the journey here wasn't too unpleasant, and it was, fuck you then! Let's overcome the intitial impressions and reach an understanding that unfortunate things happen. WHO WANTS GUM? I GOT GUM! WHO WANTS GUM!!"
"Are you for real?" screams Ben in his usual refined way. "Your bastards killed my uncle."
"Uh, no," says Katie quietly. "I think you'll find that YOU killed your uncle, Ben."
Ben headbuts her unconscious. "As I was saying, you killed my uncle!"
Pratt laughs in his face. "Well, saddle up a posse, pilgrim! NOOB!"
"Hah! When the Doctor arrives, he'll find the bodies of the important people you've killed and discover your evil plans and foil them!"
Pratt eats a pencil sharpener. "Nah, we got rid of that little computer bug. Caused us enough trouble the first time."
"You mean, you've encountered the Doctor before!!!"
"Well... YEAH! This IS a sequel to 1966's 'The Wank Machines', you know."
"You mean, 'The War Machines.'"
Pratt snorts some talcum powder. "I KNOW what I mean, whitey!"
Ben goes onto blames Pratt for the couple he murdered earlier. To his describable shock, Pratt admits that the couple weren't even humans but actually a kind of Simpson X-7 washing machine reincarnated in human form. "We still have to iron out the wrinkles," muses Pratt sadly. "Which is why we intend to reincarnate trouser presses in human forms, to iron out the wrinkles of the washing machines in human forms! GOD THIS INEFFICIENCY CHAFES ME TO THE CORE! MY BOLLOCKS ARE RED WITH FRICTION!"
"How you became the boss of an electronics firm is beyond me since you’re clearly insane," says Ben with his usual tact and discretion.
"I'm not insane! YOU'RE insane!"
"No, you're insane!"
"I KNOW YOU ARE BUT WHAT AM I?!?"
This conversation goes on for a while before Pratt suddenly drops his trousers and runs round in circles pretending to be a goat. It is then he reveals he is NOT the boss of Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit, but he is merely a servant of a sophisticated modern computer with HUGE plasma screens. At this point, Pratt starts foaming at the mouth and playing with a huge ball of string, shouting "THIS time, you DIE!!"
After a few minutes, Ben folds his arms. "Uh, hello? Why aren't you telling me your evil plans? Surely you're not just going to kill me like all the others! Damn it, you bitches, I have a first from Cambridge!"
One of the flunkies sighs and takes out a mobile phone with a wallpaper of a sinster, German face with staring eyes.
"And what's that?"
A text message appears on the screen:
WELCOMA FREINDS!11!11 OMG WTF LOL IM WOMAN!11!111
"You don't LOOK like a woman," Ben points out cleverly.
WOMAN SI AN ACRONYM FOR WIL OPARATNG MANIPULA2R AND NAUGHTIFEIR!11!! OMG WTF U SE BN CHATHM PRAT’S FATHER TEH FIRST PROF3SOR PRAT D3SIGNAD A PRO2TYPE OF M3 BAK IN DA 1960S A NASTY LITLA MACHIEN FOR TEH ANJOYM3NT OF DIRTY OLD MAN BUT IT RAVARS3D ITS PROC3S SO INST3AD OF BNG CONTROLED BY MEN IT CONTROLED TEH MIND - AND MOR3 - OF MEN!1111!!11 OMG LOL VERY PRIMITIEV OF COURSA
"Ah yes," Ben notes. "I looked you up on wikipedia! You were a huge reel-to-reel filing cabinet which was smashed the pieces and partially melted when the Doctor discovered you weren't Y2k compliant! And why have you turned yourself into a bloody mobile phone? Haven't you realized being immobile sucks!
BUT WUT HIS FATH3R STARTAD OUT OF CURIOSITY TEH SON CONTINUED OUT OF LOVE!!!11111 OMG WTF
"Right... so a single guy in his mid forties, following a complete nervous breakdown somehow gets a son who decides to build a machine identical to the one that destroyed his father's mind, even though his father didn't even build the original, just finished the UN project?"
LOK PRAT JUST MAREID SOM3 U WOMAN.!1!111!11!!!1!!111!11!!! LOL
"Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuure. So, he goes mad, shacks up with a woman half his age and then, decides to teach the sprog all about computers even though his life was ruined by them. And despite this very good warning of why NOT to build computers that want to rule the world, Simon decides to do it anyway. Instead of say, becoming an amateur archaelogist or any number of other talents. He decides to take up the same profession that drove his father insane."
LOK PROFESOR PRAT R3MANEED INTAREST3D IN COMPUTERS AND D3TERMIEND 2 TRY AND WORK OUT WUT W3NT WRONG WIT HIS ORIGINAL WOMAN AND BUILD SOM3THNG WITHOUT TH3SE FAULTS - BUT HIS SON WAS A LON3Y AND DIDNT!1!1! OMG
"Like a Chenobyl survivor trying to build a better atom bomb?"
A BIT!!!1!1! WTF
"So, who was the mother of this psycho?"
PRAT MAREID A U WOMAN HIS SACRATARY JUST OUT OF COL3GE!111!11!1
"He married Polly Wright? Jesus, even I can see that for the sickeningly unbelievable retcon it is!"
SHUT UP MOTH3RFUKAR!1!1!11 WTF IM TEH FUTURE GOVERNMENT OF THES PLAENT B/C IM A PARF3CTLEY RATIONAL COMPUTER SYSTEM!1111! OMG LOL
"You, rational! Hah! I've heard more rational things from David Blunket! You're still a box of flashing lights that can't move, defend itself, or even use the meanest of logic against your opponents! I mean, look at the guy who built you!" Ben protests, pointing at Simon Pratt as he hoks up a furball. "How did he recreate the sentience of WOMAN especially considering the original Pratt didn't know it happened any way."
SHUT UP!!!1!!11! WTF UR JUST BNG IENFICEINT AND ILOGICAL!!1!1!1 OMG LOL STUPID ORGANIC CREATURAS NO WONDAR DA PLAENT SI BNG D3VOURED BY OVER-POPULATION POLUTION WAR AND GIANT BROWN LIZARDS!!11!!!! OMG LOL HUMANITY NEDS LOGICAL CONTROL!11!!11 OMG WTF LOL AND RAPLAECMANT BY TEH LAETST 3NHANC3D HUMAN AUGMANTED R3PLAQCAMENT UNITS!1111 WTF LOL
"Replaced by what?"
CYBORGS U RETARD!!!1!1!11 OMG WTF
"Oh right. So, you think the best way to save mankind is to take it over, then wipe it out!"
TAHTS IT BITCH U GOT DA PICTUR3!!!1! OMG LOL
"Why not just stay where he is and let them wipe themselves out by themselves?"
A long pause.
FUK THIS I SHAL NOW HYPNOTIEZ BOTH OF U LOSARS!!!!!
"Oh, this is madness," shouts Ben. "I demand you release us now!" But this insane optimism is misplaced!
WUT 3VER...
The room goes fuzzy as a haze engulfs Ben's walnut-sized brain. Swirling spirals and rhythmic pulsing fill the air. Suddenly, Wierd Ness Electronics and Shit has become one huge rave party as everyone starts dancing and blowing whistles with joysticks and Pratt, wearing a jester's hat, starts moonwalking as the theme tune to The A Team is remixed and blared.
"Woohoo!" Ben screams, jumping up and down, waving his hands in the air. "I will serve WOMAN! YOYOYOYOOOO!!"
Part Five: So Strange, Even The Name Looks Like A Typo.
The mighty WOMAN, most brilliant and logical creation in the history of time, sets its mindless slaves to begin the Great Work...
...
...OF STACKING BOXES ON A LORRY!
"Why the fuck can't we get a fork-lift truck?" groans Ben as he tries to lift a crate with his smoothe, atrophied limbs, causing a nasty popping sound in his midriff and condemning him to piss blood for the next six weeks. "This isn't exactly logical, is it? Why don't you get the fucking cyborgs to lend a hand over the inefficient humans? Dear god, these plain, obese bastards aren't easy on the eye... Hey, Katie, let's stop pretending, they can't hear us. Let's make a run for it!"
Katie starts shouting "HE'S BEING DISINGENUOUS! HE'S AN ENEMY! KILL HIM!"
Ben deduces that Katie is actually under the hypnotic control of WOMAN. Actually, his first impression - that WOMAN has the mesmeric capacity of a squahsed eggplant and they were just faking - is correct but Katie has had enough of this shit and tries to kill Ben with a tire-iron. Ben runs for his life, wailing, "Katie, baby, it wasn't always like this, you stupid, clingy woman!" as he tries to avoid having nine colours of shit kicked out of him.
Ben flees across the yard, behind the lorry, through a series of metallic wheelie-bins placed there for absolutely no other purporse than to provide cover for escaping prisoners. Flexing his muscular arms, the rippling Ben Chatham tries to climb the fence, not realizing that the moonlight highlighting his physique is also revealing him to the army of slaves.
Worse, Ben is so utterly puny he can't even hold his own body weight and falls off the fence. He tries three times, and only manages to climb over after his hand is caught on barbed wire. He falls to the other side of the fence with a mutilated hand, and promptly loses conciousness and empties his bowels again.
Back inside the firm, WOMAN's mighty brain power is turned on the problem and realizes that being a small cellphone is actually not a clever move. She thus decides to pinch Ben's idea and download her whole intelligence into an indestructible android body... and REALLY indestructible, this time, not just "vulnerable to archaeology books being thrown at zero velocity at the back of its head" indestructible.
Meanwhile, Simon Pratt howls and screams as he urinates on a desk, shouting "I AM A LAWNMOWER!! FEAR MEEEEE!!!"
Outside, the moronic slaves have still failed to capture Ben who stumbles off into the heather to avoid recapture, losing pints of blood in the processess.
His vision dims, his tastebuds switch off, and as his brain starts to die, Ben's IQ correspondingly rises and all thoughts of getting drunk and sorting it all out in the morning are forgotten. As he grows faint, he deduces that taking off his shirt and getting drunk while listening to rubbish music WON'T magically save the day on its own and make everyone cheer him.
Ben is now so lucid he realizes that Weird Ness Electronics And Shit is actually within spitting distance of Loch Chav.
As Ben wonders just how he got into this, how Simon Pratt could possibly have recreated the sentience of WOMAN when nothing of the original existed, or why they've named it WOMAN again just to attract attention, why anyone would start to invade the Earth from Wierd Ness, and why the revelant anti-alien authorities haven't already noticed about this, he feels a song come on.
"Take a drink,
And you'll sink,
To a world of pure inebriation
Unless you are a chav
Then I'll DROWN you
In here..."
Ben gazes at the moonlight glistening on the ripples, and wonders where all the storm weather went to. Instantly it starts to rain again.
Suddenly, two humanoid creatures with distorted features and misshapen heads emerge from the water, raising their scaly claws...
"Oh, no, not again!" sobs Ben.
Meanwhile, WOMAN is downloading herself into her new mechanical body. The machine appears to be a double of Freema Agyeman (who, like Michael Sheard, is an evolutionary standard for humanoid life throughout the universe). In a strange, sing-song yodel, the machine - hereafter refered to as the Sparthabot -
starts to lurch around the place.
"I DISLIEK THES ARCHIETCTURE!" the Sparthabot grates. "IT SI 2TALY IRASPONSIBL3 OF PLANERS 2 ALOW SUCH DEV3LOPM3NTS IN DA SCOTISH COUNTRYSIED!1!!11 OMG LOL"
The Sparthabot turns to address her army of dull people who act like slaves and pretend to be hypnotized for the hell of it. "Y HAEVNT U CAUGHT BN CHATHM?!!?! OMG UR BHAVIOR SI FRANKLEY IR3SPONSIBLA!11!11!1 THES SI NOT A GME!1!11 LOL"
"We know," Katie points out, annoyed. "What are you? An IMDb poster or something?"
"GROW UP!!!!!"
"Ooh, great comeback!" Pratt jeers.
Meanwhile, back at Loch Chav, Ben is still screaming hysterically.
Part Six: Wee Jock McHaggis-Sporran In An Exciting Adventure With A Load Of Old Pony
Ben has another strange moment as he wonders if his adventures are simply being masterminded by some irredeemable user of words it doesn't properly understand, a monomaniac of the highest order whose stories are the worst ever written and any production team would pour petrol over themselves and light themself afire, en masse, rather than EVER have to read any of this stuff ever again.
Meanwhile, a few metres away sits John Cleese in a tuxedo. "Later tonight, we'll be discussing the important questions raised by this part of 'Durainged Fuking Ensanitee' including 'Will there ever be a cohesive plot?', 'Just what incredible events will happen off-camera and be heard about later on?', 'Why has no one shot Chatham yet?', 'Just how incompetent is WOMAN, anyway?', 'Will a random switch on the TARDIS console solve the entire problem and how will Ben Chatham take credit despite not doing anything at all useful?' and the most pivotal question of all: 'Is "firm inner thigh" the new "smoothe chest"? But now, for something completely identical.'
Ben continues to be horrified as the deformed creatures lunge at him. "Och it’s a rare night to be ooot orn the road laddie," wheezes one of the monsters. "Canna give ya a lift?"
"What?!" he exclaims in a refined way. "Aren't you the results of Pratt's moronic genetic experiments designed to augment the numan race, combined with cybernetics?"
"Eh, what's 'numan'?" asks the other creature.
"Oh, sorry. I MEANT to say, 'Aren't you the results of Pratt's moronic genetic experiments designed to augment the HUMAN race, combined with cybernetics?'"
"Eh? Hell no, ya daft sassenach bastard!" laughs one of the Lovecraftian beasts. "We're the locals of Wierd Ness! Ah'm Hamish, and this ere be Campbell. We're swingers, we are, we're great fuckbuddies of Harry. Your smoothe flesh and lack of mental capacity sergest ya young Ben Chatham, eh?"
"When were the last tame ye came and forgoot were you were?" asks Campbell, apropos of nothing.
"Well, Uncle Harry is dead, so no gay sex for you twisted gonads!"
"I thought Ben Chatham was the biggest mysognist in the Outer Hebridies," Hamish says, frowning. "He's a homophobe as well."
"Aye, mysogny and homophobia," Campbell agrees. "Strange bedfellows."
"And so are we!" Hamish laughs, fingering his moustache in a suggestive manner.
"EXCUSE ME!" Ben screams. "I demand you take me to my uncle's house so I may take my inheritance."
"Why not, yer spineless goon," Cambell sneers and three of them climb into a nearby van.
"Aye," Hamish says as they drive out, "it’s a rare night to be oot."
"I know, you said that already!" Ben shouts. "Fuck it, you Scots are such stupid arseholes!"
"When the mist comes down across the loch things can happen round here. Strange, sinister things."
"Which is why we hide in Loch Chav and indecently expose ourselves to herring," Campbell chips in. "Cud ah place meh scaly claw on yer knee and slowly move round to yer firm inner thigh?"
Ben is aghast... and finally passes out from blood loss.
"Great! Put the racist pig in that gingham dress and the fun can REALLY begin!" Hamish cackles.
Meanwhile, back at the Wierd Ness Electronics And Shit plant, the Sparthabot continues to bitch at her slaves as they lift crates into a lorry. Katie asks just exactly what the hell they're doing moving empty crates onto a lorry and shipping them all over Scotland.
"ITS A TAEKOVAR BID!1!!!!1 OMG WTF!" Sparthabot shouts. "I DONT HAEV 2 AXPLANE ANYTHNG 2 U!11!! WTF!"
"Sod this for a game of soldiers," Katie complains and storms off.
Meanwhile, Ben Chatham awakes to find himself being sodomized by two different mutant Scotsmen simultaneously. Swift as the greyhound, strong as a gorilla, as intelligent as a nerf ball, Ben leaps out of the car and runs through the heather before arriving at Uncle Harry's house.
Katie arrives, and they are both shot at by Jamie who screams everyone has gone fucking insane and they're not getting HIM, buster!
Katie gives Jamie a slap which revives Jamie from this state, and Ben respondes by repeatedly slamming Katie's head into his kneecap, then punches her in the face over and over again, before hurling her into the fireplace.
"Right," Ben explains. "Professor Pratt is a half-baked insane lunatic, who somewhere in his disturbed mind has the desire to inflict on himself the kinky domination his father suffered at the hands of WOMAN. He has built a far less dangerous and more loopy version of the computer and it is conducting genetic and cyborg experiments with a view to produce a new species of human race, one that is devoid of all that the machine considers to be imperfections such as compassion and emotion. Now, let's have some brandy and sleep on it. It's rather late and these things always sort themselves out..."
Ben is rather put out when Jamie screams: 'YOU'RE A FUCKING NUTTER!' and runs for his life upstairs, wailing unhappily.
Ben figets helplessly, then notices Katie - shards of broken glass in her head - is staggering to her feet, so he drop kicks her again.
Part Seven: Oh Go Away And Sort It Out For Yourself, Chatham.
At last, the cliches of cliches is at an end. This tale of men in black, weird cultists, pub owners sharing strange stories of questionable interest, senseless and unexplained murders, absinthe, Ben's albums, Ben's expensive accessories getting ruined, mysoginy, homophobia, lashings of snobbery and villains explaining their plots to their captives in incredibly corny dialogue is at an end. Soon, the vacuous dialoge, non-existant plotting, characterisation notable only for its abscence, rampant alcoholism, sexism, classism and predjudice, slavish adherance to an outmoded and repressive political system and a complete lack of thrills 'n' chills 'n' spills will soon be over!
This ultimate episode begins with Ben failing, yet again, to understand that children's heroes don't get themselves soused for the hell of it rather than saving the world.
Having dropped a sofa on Katie's head, Ben stalks through the house clutching a fire axe and hissing, "No sex and no absinthe make Ben a homicidal lunatic!" and shouting "Here's Benjiiii!" as he bursts into the countless bedrooms of the manor house.
Finally, he locates Jamie hiding in Uncle Harry's room and immediately locks him in and starts to remove his clothing. Jamie is not in the mood to be seduced on a dead man's bed and not even an offer of playing Harry's bagpipes will sway him.
"You come round here, beat us all up, murder Harry and now you're going to rape me!"
"Untrue!" Ben says before picking up the bagpipes and bashing Jamie round the head with them. "Do you think I'd risk damaging these if I wasn't such a good lover? These bagpipes belong King James the Fourth of Scotland before the accident with the contraceptive and the time machine whereupon he became King James the First of England! He gave them to the Duke of Buckingham who sold them to cover his opium addiction which Harry was naturally the supplier! They still work - now are you gonna give me some sugar or am I going to have to play Flowers in the Forrest?"
Given this impossible choice, Jamie breaks down in hysterical sobs.
Ben is about to have this wicked way when he realizes... JAMIE IS A GIRL! (Now that is some really poor visual continuity...)
BEN NEARLY RAPED... A WOMAN!!!
Ben screams hysterically and runs to the mirror and begins to hack off his blonde locks with a blunt pair of scissors, carving the words BAD WOLF THINKS I'M A CHAV on his face as he does so.
Suddenly, a curled up figure smashes through the window behind them, straightens out and lands perfectly to reveal...
"Martha Jones?" asks Ben, astounded, his fragile little mind shaken to its core.
"NO!!11!! OMG LOL IT SI I, WOMAN, IN HUMANOID FORM!1!!1!!!! OMG LOL 'SMUG POINTL3S ANDROID ROBOT TAHT HAETS ANYONE' BUT U CAN CAL ME.!!!!1!!1!!!11!1 WTF LOL S.P.A.R.T.H,A!!!!!!11!1!11!!1!1!! OMG WTF!"
Ben gamely hides behind the bag pipes as the Sparthabot lurches towards him.
"IM UNIMPR3SED BY DA D3COR!111!11! OMG WTF LOL THES CUD B A RILLY NIEC ROM IF SOMAONA ALTAR3D TEH COLOURSCHAME AND R3MOVAD THOSE AWFUL PICTUR3S OF NAEKD GREKS!1!!!!!1 OMG WTF LOL!"
"How dare you suggest redecorating this room!" Ben shouts as he hides.
"DONT TRY 2 S3DUCE ME BN CHATHM!!11!1 I KNOW UR TACTIS BOY!!!1! LOL U AND I STAY PURELEY PLA2NIC AS I PLAN TEH ANIHILATION OF HUMANITY!!111!111 OMG WTF"
"You robo-slag! Leave me alone!"It's because of you I was getting felt up by those mutated ethnic stereotypes!"
"I WAS SIMPLEY SIMPLEY EXPARIEMNTNG WIT DA IMPRESIONIST STYLA OF RONALD FIRBANK!1!!1 OMG OF COURSA U KNOW THOS3 AERNT REAL SCOTSM3N HEAEVNS NO!1!!!1!!1 OMG WTF THEY R ARTIFICIAL SCOTSM3N!111!!11 WTF THES SI PART OF WUT SI CAL3D 'ART', U INBRED BARBARIAN!!11! WTF LOL"
"Bitch!"
"O GROW UP!!! MAH SLAEVS R ALRAADY APROACHNG THES HOUES THROUGH DA THIK SCOTISH MIST BLOWN IN FROM DA LOCH!!!!11111 OMG WTF IMA SHIT U UP MOFO!!!1!1 OMG LOL"
Ben wails unhappily as the distinctive sound of slave bursting in through the front door in a convertible can be heard. Desperately, he tries to drown it out with the bagpipes, and the augmented cyborgs hear the noise and start screaming with agony.
Ben laughs with delight. "It must be the bagpipe notes interfering with the frequency of the mind control waves! Their brains must be haemorraging!"
"NO!" the Sparthabot protests. "TAHT SI JUST TEH WORST FUKNG BAGPIEP PLAYNG IVE 3VER H3ARD IN MAH ANTIER LIEF!111! OMG WTF GOD KENY G HAS NOTHNG ON U U ATONAL FUKNG NOIES DEFECA2R!!11!1! OMG SHUT DA FUK UP!!!!1!!!1!1! WTF THAT NOISE IS BAD!"
"Hahah! I defeat you!"
"U DEAEFN US MORE LIEK U RETARD!1111!! LOL S2P TAHT FUKNG NOIES!!!!1!!111!! WTF!!"
"Never!"
"U WIL PAY FOR THIS!!!!1!!1! OMG WTF HUMANITY STANES THES PLAENT LIEK FILTH!11111!!1 LOL IT MUST B CLEANSED - STARTNG WIT U CHAV-FUKER!11!! WTF"
Desperate to stop the noise, the cyborgs rip their own heads off. Luckily, Simon Pratt has arrived, armed with a Luger!
"PRAT!!1!!!111 WTF KIL TAHT MOFO!1111111 OMG LOL"
Pratt turns and shoots the Sparthabot, who collapses with a groaned, "U HAEV GOT 2 B FUKNG KIDNG ME.!!1111!1!11!!!1!!!! WTF U STUPID PRAT!!111!!1 OMG!"
"You're unhinged!" Ben challenges.
"You know, you might just be right," Pratt muses before grabbing a vase from the landing table and smashes it over his own head. Pratt slips, falls backwards off the landing, plummets three metres and cracks his head on the flagstone wall before an antique suit of medieval armor Uncle Harry used for sex games falls atop Pratt, crushing him into a paste.
"WUT A PRAT!!11!111 WTF" Sparthabot groans.
"You know, Spartha," Ben asks, "does your undying rage at the world around you allow you to feel any other emotions?"
"LIEK WUT?!!?!"
"Happiness? Sadness? Fear?"
"NO NOT RILLY."
Ben crosses to the window and eagerly awaits the arrival of UNIT in order for him to gain recognition and adoration. He cracks open a bottle of single malt and rehearses an embarrassed, modest smile as the latest male Brigadier worships him for his brilliance of convincing UNIT of the severity of the threat... until Sparthabot points out he hasn't actually contacted them yet.
"Damn it! Can you at least tell Brigadier Ashton when he turns up I single handedly sprayed you with bullets and triggered a resulting fire that destroyed you off-screen, allowing me to take all the credit as you vanish into silicon hell?"
The Sparthabot looks thoughtful. "AND TEH SURVEY SADE... FUK OFF!!!1"
Ben bursts into tears, realizing he will never repay his debt to society SO well, he'd be in such extreme credit that he could steamroller all the world's kittens and still not be hated by all the common people.
"Oh, to have kitten-steamrollering privileges at last..." he weeps.
Then he remembers why he came to Weird Ness in the first place and runs downstairs to the well-stocked cellar. "Well done, me! I'm a hero! So let's PARRRRRRRRTAYYYY!!!"
Katie finds himself drinking absinthe like tap water.
"I don't know about you, Katie," Ben slurs, newly-grown braincells already liquefying, "but this adventure has proved a lurning curve for me. I don't some some Time Lord wanker to turn up and save the day. I can just rely on the armed services to do that with grotesque amounts of civilian casualties and collatoral damage. I feel major new character developments about to occur."
Katie is concerned. "Are you going to enrol in therapy and Alcoholics Anonymous?"
Ben stares at her. "No. Why would I enrol in Alcoholics Anonymous? I don't have a drinking problem."
"A drinking problem?!" Katie exclaims. "For the last three months you spent every single day lying on the sofa, guzzling from a 10 litre bottle of White Shite Cider, swearing at Jeremy Kyle, having mastubatory fantasies about Boyd from Neighbours, before falling asleep covered in your own vomit and wee! OF COURSE YOU'VE GOT A PROBLEM!"
"Nonsense! I'm a highly intelligent individual with an appreciation for wine and food, and given the exceptionally difficult life I lead, saving the world and putting up with you, I deserve to relax with a good bottle or thirty-seven of Absinthe..."
"Then what are the major new character developments?"
"I'm going to put you into a lunatic asylum of course, so I don't have to put up with the stench of your disgusting feminine hygene products!" Ben says cheerfully before beating her unconscious with a fireplace poker.
And so, in an ending keeping the Scottish theme, Ben laughs and drinks.
And drinks.
And drinks.
And drinks.
And drinks.
And drinks...
...until his liver explodes in a spectacular special effect.
Meanwhile, on the BBC website audio commentary transcribed by the Mighty Cameron J Mason of Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe:
Julie Gardner: Hoorah!
RTD: How fantastic were the Mill with that effect!
Phil Collinson: They said it couldn't be done on the budget assigned, but they worked the extra hours and it has certainly paid off.
RTD: A round of applause for the hard workers at the Mill!
Julie/Phil/RTD: Hoorah! *clapping*, etc...
THE END
BC Holiday Special IV: Dark Yuletide
THE BEN CHATHAM SPIN-OFF ADVENTURES: CHRISTMAS SPECIAL
"SHITE YULETIDE"
After being shot through the head by Toshiko Sato, Ben Chatham finds himself mysteriously transported to his Cambridge apartment. It is Christmas Eve, and he is lying on the sofa in an expensive Harrods dressing gown as the Human League's Greatest Hits plays 'Love Action' over the stereo. Since he should be very, very dead at the moment, Ben is surprised at this development.
Has the nature of cause and effect somehow changed? Is Ben in some limbo or coma dreaming it? Or has he gone mad from absinthe abuse?
Realizing his life is now a mockery of "Life on Mars", Ben lapses into a state of depression and starts swigging absinthe as his slender foot uncontrollably jiggles of its own accord. The lazy, mysogenistic, self-obssessed alcoholic fuck that is Ben Chatham decides instead to wonder exactly how the hell Harrods can make ANY of their products exclusive.
Suddenly, the music stops and the room goes dark.
Ben has a panic attack, at first fearing the cumulative effect of thirty years of continual masturbation has finally rendered him blind as a bat. Then, the K9 assasin the Doctor sent him arrives and laughs hysterically at Ben's moronic superstitions, as it's clearly just the trip-switch flicking off because the appartment hates Ben like everyone else. Ben tells K9 to restore the power and the robot dog gives him a violent electric shock; his way of saying "do it yourself, lardarse!"
Ben stumbles through the dark and after breaking his toe finally finds the switch...
AND IT DOESN'T WORK!!!
K9 giggles and explains that the entire UK has been struck by a power drain of indeterminate cause. "Sucker!" K9 laughs and shoots Ben in the knackers, telling him to fuck off out of K9's apartment so the robot dog can have his bitches round for Xmas.
Ben is flung out into the street and cracks his head against the darkened streetlights as he stumbles around blindly. He is then grabbed by something in the darkness and immediately empties his bowels on instinct.
It turns out his assailant is none other than Katie Ryan, who does not remember the cruel way Ben used her like a kleenex and then threw her into a deep fat fryer, scarring her for life. Ben instead decides to inform Katie of the fact the lights have gone out, since she is a woman and thus incapable of storing and processing such patently obvious facts.
Katie explains she knows Ben is afraid of the dark, which is why she regularly has a friend of her in the engineering department of the electricity board plunge all of Cambridge into darkness so she has an excuse to come round and possibly get a lacklustre shag.
Ben marvels at this implication that a woman is capable of abstract thought, in his usual noble, sexy, arrogance. He then realizes she hanging around outside his door, and for a moment is horrified at the thought she might be homeless and sheltering in his doorway.
Katie insists she is just stalking him, because she is so sexually obsessed that in the dark hours of the night, she starts to pine for "the Smoothe One" and just cannot help herself. Indeed, under her mac, she wears the flimsiest of satin negligees, with two small bottles of absinthe hanging around her neck on a string, strategically placed so their pert necks emphasise her ripe and heaving bosom. She has not brought candles or anything useful like that.
Suddenly, they are nearly run over by a morris minor containing Corrine Shaw and Paul Farrady, the pathetic losers who call themselves Operation Helter-Skelter, a covert unexplained phenomena investigation organization that Touchwood allows to live cause they're so damn stupid and amusing. Paul says that according to his livejournal buddies, there is a mysterious energy burst in the Wiltshire area around Silbury Hill.
Katie asks why the hell OSH are hanging around Cambridge instead, and Corrine explains that they were hoping to swing by and spend some time with Ben Chatham, the only person more selfish and moronic than even they are.
At that point, K9 sticks his head of the window and fires a volley of laser blasts at the group, telling them to get the fuck out of there or he'll call the police and have the lot of them declared terrorists, skinned alive, and buggered to death!
Although OSH look rather intrigued at the notion, Ben and Katie scramble inside the morris minor and drive like hell.
At first they drive blindly through the dark, running over small animals and pedestrians and carol singers, it strikes Ben Chatham's cunning brain to SWITCH THE FUCKING HEADLIGHTS ON, whereupon driving becomes incredibly smoother.
However, Corrine discovers that Katie and Ben have had sex and so grabs his stalker and smashes her head through the car door window, screaming, "YOU HARLOT! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A CHEAP SHIRAZ TO MY FINEST CLARET!" Corrine forces Katie's head into the fast-moving road below, scraping off half her face. "YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A FLEETING SENSE OF VARIETY!"
Katie, bleeding profusely, punches Corrine repeatedly and then roasts her forehead with the car cigarette lighter, howling, "YOU DISSAPOINT, MISS FINE CLARET, COZ BEN SAYS YOU'RE CORKED, YOU FRIGID WHORE!"
Corrine, with icy elegance, starts to garrotte Katie with her own seat belt, wailing, "BEN WILL ALWAYS COME BACK TO ME, YOU COMMON LITTLE SEX TOY! MY VINTAGE IS SO EXCLUSIVE NOT EVEN MY STEPFATHER HAS HAD A GO!"
Katie tears free, grabs Corrine's throat and forces her head UP through the roof of the morris minor just as it enters a low-hanging tunnel. We hear Corrine's muffled scream as, inside the car her body twitches violently and then goes limp. As the morris minor leaves the tunnel, blood gushes down from the hole in the roof, running gently down Corrine's partially-obscured bodies.
"Oh I’m very sorry," Katie says.
There follows a very awkward silence before Paul Farrady suddenly blinks and shouts, "WOO-HOO! GIRL FIGHT!"
Ben decides to stick to his tactic of ignoring that he has any problems in his life and instead mucks around with cassette deck until it plays Bowie's "Outside" albulm to drown out the obscene gurgles Corrine makes.
Arriving at Avebury, Paul's keen senses detect the armed patrol that stops them only five minutes after they've gone. Ben explains to him that the soldiers are bored shitless and glad of any excuse to cordon off Silbury Hill. This time the excuse is that the Major-General has severe tinitus, but suspects the strange humming he can hear is actually a strange, sinister alien force buried within the hill that is causing all the power failures. Katie explains she is the cause of the power failures and the soldier offers to 'make it worth her while' if she keeps quiet about that and allows their commanding officer to indulge his own insane paranoia.
Ben agrees on Katie's behalf, pockets the cash and decides to go and squat at his parent's house in the Vale of Pewsey. As he drives there, Ben explains that his parents have many houses and yet spend a lot the year overseas, almost as if they are spending his inheritance on random countryside houses in order to make sure he never finds them and spends time with them at Christmas. Paul Farrady suspects there might be a simpler explanation, when suddenly they run over Jake Simmonds!
Somehow, Jake Simmonds got sucked through to this dimension in a story that the series went to incredible lengths to render non-canonical, and apparently has joined up with Touchwood, who immediately send to Pewsey to investigate a mundane and harmless power failure with instructions to "never come back". Realizing that this is a wild goose chase and no body likes him, Jake breaks down in CBBC issue hystrionics, then cheers up and asks to crash out at Ben's place even though they've never really met before.
Since there is clearly no energy translenslature inside Silbury Hill transporting an army to Earth from another galaxy, Ben takes Jake into his ancestral seat, and locks out Paul, Katie and Corrine. He has no interest with either of the wretched, sex-obsessed harpies who believe the ownership of Ben's smoothe chest is more paramount in importance than anything that HE wants. "Ridiculous, stupid, wine-obsessed trollops," muses the emo-boy, whose chutzpah is sharper than the sharp, sophisticated barbs Katie and Corrine are skewering each other with.
Corrine and Katie continue to argue ownership over the man who crassly dumped one and only had a brief one-night stand with the other, but the feelings of women don't matter, so let us move on. Inside, Ben lights up some candles and then concentrates on getting Jake so utterly pissed that Chatham will be able to have his wicked way with the man six years his elder. After gettig the portable stereo to work on batteries, Ben puts on Philip Glass' 'Heroes' Symphony' and drugs Jake with rohypnol and systematically removes his trousers.
"STOP GETTING FUCKING DRUNK!" Katie shouts in the background. "STOP LISTEN TO STUPID MUSIC! YOU'RE MINE, MOFO!"
"OH GROW UP YOU DRUNKEN SLAGS!" Ben shouts out the window.
Outside, in the cold, Paul Farrady bounces up and down shouting he is in love with Ben and nothing else in the universe matters while Corrine ties Katie to the front door and starts hurling daggers at her.
Inside, Ben pours a fifth bottle of absinthe down Jake's throat and, smoking an opium cigar, Ben downs three bottles of Chardonnay and then forces his firm cheekbones into Jake's inner thighs. Jake is now paralytic and mumbles something about "Ride me, Mickey, ride me! Use me, call me Rose if that helps!" before passing out in his own vomit.
Outside, Katie has strapped Corrine to the front of the morris minor and is about to drive it straight through the front door when a strange wibbling sound is heard and swirling colours light up the house.
"Well, blow me up and call me Nagasaki," muses Paul Farraday, "Something IS coming to Wiltshire from another galaxy! Fancy that!"
Ben is horrified at having his sweet lurve interrupted as the flashing lights flood the house.
A melting sky-ray lolly the size of a jumbo jet is hanging in the air above the house. Drops of the lolly are falling and killing small animals in the immediate vicinity. Realizing this puts the other three in incredible danger, Ben draws the curtains and opens a bottle of exclusive Isle of Arran Cream Liquour as the others outside scream for help.
"HELLO!" Paul Farrady screams. "ALIEN INVASION! GET YOUR FUCKING ARSE INTO GEAR! THERE'S A FUCKING ALIEN INVASION ON YOUR PATCH! DO SOMETHING!"
"OH, TALK ABOUT IRON AGE HILLFORTS OR SOMETHING! I'M BUSY!"
Ben kicks Jake conscious and drags him to his bedroom. There Ben threatens to show his father's collection of antique 18th century pistols to Jake unless they the nasty, and Jake mumbles something about "you drunken hetrophobic cunts" before vomiting all over Ben and passing out once more.
Outside, Paul Farraday obediently starts talking about the celts as Katie smashes a martini glass in two and rams the shards into either side of Corrine's head, causing her to flail around the place and scream hysterically. "Look, I made a Cyberwoman!" laughs Katie insanely.
"YOU PAROCHIAL DOUCHE BAG BITCH!" Corrine roars before blob of sizzling confectionary drops from the UFO and microwaves her skull.
Giggling, Katie assumes a strange kung-fu pose and mystically flies directly up into the air and smashes through the window of Ben's bedroom and finds him trying to lick Jake back to awareness with what he no doubt considers smouldering passion. Katie reacts to this with her usual reserve by grabbing the sides of Ben's mouth and pulling in opposite directions in attempt to rip his head open, shouting homophobic abuse as she does so.
"Fuck off, Katie," sneers Ben.
"OI! CHATHAM!" Katie roars. "WHAT PART OF 'SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP' DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU FUCKER?!?"
Before Ben can lose all his genintals in a meat cleaving accident, suddenly the door to the bedroom explodes to reveal a Dalek! "I'M HERE FOR THE PARTY! WHERE IS THE GOOD BOOZE? WHERE IS THE GOOD BOOZE?!?"
"You've got some nerve interrupting me!" shouts Ben as he grabs Katie and hurls her at the Dalek in the vague hope she might make a good human shield.
It transpires that the Dalek mailed itself to Ben's house via Parcelforce. Once delivered it burst out of the parcel and disguised itself as a magazine or paper cup or something and when the time was right it revealed itself. Ideally this would have been during a dinner party or small social gathering and ridicule Ben on his choice of curtains/wine/trousers etc until he is suitably chastised.
However, things have gone out of control and there is no chance that the Dalek can order a cab or something in order that Ben's guests could go to a wine bar or function room in a pub to finish their night in some style!
Death is here and he's in a mmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaan mood!
Ben runs for the emergency fire escape not realizing his parents removed it as a precaution so if there ever WAS a house-fire and Ben was in his room, he would immediately burn to death.
Ben plummets ten metres down and lands safely atop Paul Farraday. As he gets to his feet, Ben mutters, "Hmm. Obviously my father listened to my advise that the fire escape ruined the look of this listed building, otherwise there would be a moral question mark over trapping me in a burning house."
Ben then remembers that he is being chased by a flying all-purpose armor-plated killing machine unseducable even by Captain "Shag Me" Jack, and runs off into the night, waving his hands in the air and screaming hysterically.
Corrine muses that she looked up the events of the Battle of Canary Wharf on wikipedia, and since all the Daleks were sucked into the void between universes along with the Cybermen, this is obviously some kind of projected illusion trying to tap into their worst fears, and thus, they are perfectly safe.
The Dalek zaps the trio, reducing them all to porrige.
Meanwhile, Ben runs through the wood wailing for his mummy, his pony, Rose Tyler - ANYBODY! - to help him, and finally trips and falls face down into a cowpat. Behind him, the Dustbin follows, intending to suck on Ben's vital juices and absorb what little artron energy can be found.
Ben thinks of Jake's inner thighs and firm, welcoming lips, and smiles happily until he gets a low-level radiation bolt fired up his arse by the Dalek who is right behind him.
Ben flees to a nearby hill which suddenly unfolds like a Barbie playset to reveal an old prop from Space: 1999. The door opens and a tall and elegant old man with long flowing robes and a white beard emerges.
"Oh Christ!" Ben moans fearfully. "It's Brian fucking Blessed!"
"Greetings, Ben Chatham," booms the alien. "I detect that you also have travelled through time."
Ben is confused. "But you... you can't have. The Doctor said that only the Time Lords have that power and that he is now alone. Apart from all the ones that survived and avoid because he's a total prick."
The strange being chuckles and says, "Let that remain..."
"And time agents."
"Let the..."
"And the Family of Blood. And the Vortexians. And the Rachnoss. And the..."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! Now, as I was saying, I'm trying to be mysterious here and you attempting rational thought isn't helping! Right. Where was I? Oh yeah. My name is Merlin. Your civilisation may have legends based on my name. I have slept here for a long time. But now its time to travel again. I apologise for the temporary power drain, unavoidable I am afraid."
"Why did you sleep on Earth? Why do you have to travel again now? Why is it that you need puny Earth energy to do it? And isn't this a total rip off of Stargate SG1?"
"Oh, fine!" The figure tears off his beard to reveal... Bilis Manger. "Typical, Christmas fucking Eve and you have to be even remotely sober! YOU SUCK, Ben Chatham, and I was just trying to cheer myself up. You loser!"
"Are you a Time Lord?"
"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying, emo boy? NO ONE LIKES YOU! YOU ARE A USELESS PIECE OF CRAP WHO DRINKS TOO MUCH!"
"Or are you something else?"
"I give up."
"Is Merlin real?"
"Get a fucking life, Ben, I'm off to Milliways."
The figure vanishes into the space ship and flies away.
Ben muses on this and suddenly has a vision!
A vision of Paul Farraday passed out in his own body waste as he hugs an empty bottle of wine he has affectionately dubbed "Anna Nicole Smith"; a vision of Corrine jamming a skewer through Katie, placing it on a rotissery by a roaring fire; and of himself and Jack making hot, sophisticated non-chav love as snow falls in ridiculous amounts of Fraudien symbolism which will ruin all Ben's expensive Habitat sheets...
The vision intensifies, ala 2001: A Space Oddessy, and Ben watches himself sleep in on Christmas Day, take a shower, put on an exclusive Harrods silk dressing gown, and then gorge himself on mints, tea and croissants.
He sees himself being startled by a Victoria sponge and hiding in an exclusive IKEA filing cabinet with the slow understanding no one got him any presents whatsoever.
He sees himself recieving absolutely no texts and messages from anyone begging him to join their New Year's Eve parties, so he sends an offensive text to Katie Ryan instead.
He sees himself still getting no phone calls from the Doctor praising him for saving humanity with his aftershave on no separate occasions, even after three years of patience.
He sees himself dancing with joy as he gets three texts - before getting depressed when he realizes every message begs him to stay home and put his head in the oven at gas mark 4 for forty minutes until crisp and golden.
He sees himself stalking Jake and hiding in a cafe where he is mistaken for a robot criminal and repeatedly stabbed by people who are well brought up and eductated.
He sees himself gatecrashing his old university friends Nat and Astrella, who claim to have no idea who he is and demand he leave before they call the police.
He sees himself begging Nat to remember his life has no meaning without Ben Chatham, who once smiled at him in 1993.
He sees himself discovering Nat is an international gun-runner and when he tries to talk about late 16th century Flemish art, Jake arrives and uses one of Nat's landmines to blow Ben into the strasophere for being "a boring bunch of dirty Tory tosser scumbags who spend hours smelling their own farts".
He sees himself crashlanding in a club with no dress code full of people with moral certainties, who then kick Ben unsconscious.
He sees himself being dragged out of the Friendly Onion After School Club Disco by police, having been kicked in the head until his kidneys bled.
He sees himself stalk Jake back to his bedsit and demand sex, only to be told he is 'a total prat' and is stabbed through both kidneys by Genghis Khan, who happened to be passing.
He sees himself stagger into a shower and discover the tap was connected to a landmine shortly before he was blown into several thousand pieces in an explosion that left him in increasing order of priority: without corporeal form, with a singed CD collection, and somewhat concerned.
He sees himself as a ghost without legs or pancreas, forced to watch Jake shag Katie while a cat pokes a landmine into a sock with a stick...
This vision ends as the Dalek right behind Ben blasts him at point-blank range.
With a crackle of burning atoms, the mutli-coloured stream of fierce energy leaps from the gun-stick, tears through the air and evelops Ben, tearing at his flesh, burrowing deep into his very soul. He lets out a whining scream as his entire body is set on fire. His back arches as he recieves a huge charge of electricity, and is flung to the ground under the deadly dose of radiation. The smell of ozone floats in the air as the ray floods over Ben, tearing away his skin and flesh, crackling his bones to dust, burning his internal organs, and exploding his mind. As the deadly ray reaches its greatest intensity, Ben lets out a great high-pitched shrieking scream as the searing pain tears apart his very being as the sweeping agony of death tears through his living fibre. Ben's blackened body shrinks and evaporates in an agonizing illusion...
WHOA! Got carried away there.
Ben is shot, screams and suddenly wakes up to find himself sitting naked on a toilet clutching an empty bottle of absinthe and about to castrate himself with a mattock.
He is in fact still in the tiny village of Dertain Ceath in 2005, on Christmas Eve when he was murdering people for diabolic satanistic fun.
IT WAS ALL A DREAM!
ALL OF IT!
The illogical, non-causal, narrative-lacking framework of a very gauche dream!
He never met the Doctor and Rose, or travelled in the TARDIS! Operation Helter-Skelter, Richard III, the evil guinea pigs, Hitler as a baby, it was all a dream and none of it happened!
Shaken, Ben leaves the toilet and discovers the landlord's daughter - Katie Ryan - has gotten drunk again and thrown up her breakfast of bacon and eggs on a plate. She hands it to him, claiming it is a cavair and French blueberry croissant omelette.
Ben calls her various derogatory names he doubts Katie has a hope of understanding, then tells her that he is Father Christmas and he hates her. As she runs off crying, Ben muses that she just doesn't understand him. On second thoughts, however, she looks alright on his arm and allows him to hide his shameful homosexuality.
Ben tracks down Katie and sleeps with her, muttering "Needs must" as he forces her to wear an Adam Rickitt mask during the act. He then punches her unconscious and watches a compilation tape of Lee Willaims and starts wanking as Christmas Day arrives.
The End/The Beginning
"SHITE YULETIDE"
After being shot through the head by Toshiko Sato, Ben Chatham finds himself mysteriously transported to his Cambridge apartment. It is Christmas Eve, and he is lying on the sofa in an expensive Harrods dressing gown as the Human League's Greatest Hits plays 'Love Action' over the stereo. Since he should be very, very dead at the moment, Ben is surprised at this development.
Has the nature of cause and effect somehow changed? Is Ben in some limbo or coma dreaming it? Or has he gone mad from absinthe abuse?
Realizing his life is now a mockery of "Life on Mars", Ben lapses into a state of depression and starts swigging absinthe as his slender foot uncontrollably jiggles of its own accord. The lazy, mysogenistic, self-obssessed alcoholic fuck that is Ben Chatham decides instead to wonder exactly how the hell Harrods can make ANY of their products exclusive.
Suddenly, the music stops and the room goes dark.
Ben has a panic attack, at first fearing the cumulative effect of thirty years of continual masturbation has finally rendered him blind as a bat. Then, the K9 assasin the Doctor sent him arrives and laughs hysterically at Ben's moronic superstitions, as it's clearly just the trip-switch flicking off because the appartment hates Ben like everyone else. Ben tells K9 to restore the power and the robot dog gives him a violent electric shock; his way of saying "do it yourself, lardarse!"
Ben stumbles through the dark and after breaking his toe finally finds the switch...
AND IT DOESN'T WORK!!!
K9 giggles and explains that the entire UK has been struck by a power drain of indeterminate cause. "Sucker!" K9 laughs and shoots Ben in the knackers, telling him to fuck off out of K9's apartment so the robot dog can have his bitches round for Xmas.
Ben is flung out into the street and cracks his head against the darkened streetlights as he stumbles around blindly. He is then grabbed by something in the darkness and immediately empties his bowels on instinct.
It turns out his assailant is none other than Katie Ryan, who does not remember the cruel way Ben used her like a kleenex and then threw her into a deep fat fryer, scarring her for life. Ben instead decides to inform Katie of the fact the lights have gone out, since she is a woman and thus incapable of storing and processing such patently obvious facts.
Katie explains she knows Ben is afraid of the dark, which is why she regularly has a friend of her in the engineering department of the electricity board plunge all of Cambridge into darkness so she has an excuse to come round and possibly get a lacklustre shag.
Ben marvels at this implication that a woman is capable of abstract thought, in his usual noble, sexy, arrogance. He then realizes she hanging around outside his door, and for a moment is horrified at the thought she might be homeless and sheltering in his doorway.
Katie insists she is just stalking him, because she is so sexually obsessed that in the dark hours of the night, she starts to pine for "the Smoothe One" and just cannot help herself. Indeed, under her mac, she wears the flimsiest of satin negligees, with two small bottles of absinthe hanging around her neck on a string, strategically placed so their pert necks emphasise her ripe and heaving bosom. She has not brought candles or anything useful like that.
Suddenly, they are nearly run over by a morris minor containing Corrine Shaw and Paul Farrady, the pathetic losers who call themselves Operation Helter-Skelter, a covert unexplained phenomena investigation organization that Touchwood allows to live cause they're so damn stupid and amusing. Paul says that according to his livejournal buddies, there is a mysterious energy burst in the Wiltshire area around Silbury Hill.
Katie asks why the hell OSH are hanging around Cambridge instead, and Corrine explains that they were hoping to swing by and spend some time with Ben Chatham, the only person more selfish and moronic than even they are.
At that point, K9 sticks his head of the window and fires a volley of laser blasts at the group, telling them to get the fuck out of there or he'll call the police and have the lot of them declared terrorists, skinned alive, and buggered to death!
Although OSH look rather intrigued at the notion, Ben and Katie scramble inside the morris minor and drive like hell.
At first they drive blindly through the dark, running over small animals and pedestrians and carol singers, it strikes Ben Chatham's cunning brain to SWITCH THE FUCKING HEADLIGHTS ON, whereupon driving becomes incredibly smoother.
However, Corrine discovers that Katie and Ben have had sex and so grabs his stalker and smashes her head through the car door window, screaming, "YOU HARLOT! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A CHEAP SHIRAZ TO MY FINEST CLARET!" Corrine forces Katie's head into the fast-moving road below, scraping off half her face. "YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A FLEETING SENSE OF VARIETY!"
Katie, bleeding profusely, punches Corrine repeatedly and then roasts her forehead with the car cigarette lighter, howling, "YOU DISSAPOINT, MISS FINE CLARET, COZ BEN SAYS YOU'RE CORKED, YOU FRIGID WHORE!"
Corrine, with icy elegance, starts to garrotte Katie with her own seat belt, wailing, "BEN WILL ALWAYS COME BACK TO ME, YOU COMMON LITTLE SEX TOY! MY VINTAGE IS SO EXCLUSIVE NOT EVEN MY STEPFATHER HAS HAD A GO!"
Katie tears free, grabs Corrine's throat and forces her head UP through the roof of the morris minor just as it enters a low-hanging tunnel. We hear Corrine's muffled scream as, inside the car her body twitches violently and then goes limp. As the morris minor leaves the tunnel, blood gushes down from the hole in the roof, running gently down Corrine's partially-obscured bodies.
"Oh I’m very sorry," Katie says.
There follows a very awkward silence before Paul Farrady suddenly blinks and shouts, "WOO-HOO! GIRL FIGHT!"
Ben decides to stick to his tactic of ignoring that he has any problems in his life and instead mucks around with cassette deck until it plays Bowie's "Outside" albulm to drown out the obscene gurgles Corrine makes.
Arriving at Avebury, Paul's keen senses detect the armed patrol that stops them only five minutes after they've gone. Ben explains to him that the soldiers are bored shitless and glad of any excuse to cordon off Silbury Hill. This time the excuse is that the Major-General has severe tinitus, but suspects the strange humming he can hear is actually a strange, sinister alien force buried within the hill that is causing all the power failures. Katie explains she is the cause of the power failures and the soldier offers to 'make it worth her while' if she keeps quiet about that and allows their commanding officer to indulge his own insane paranoia.
Ben agrees on Katie's behalf, pockets the cash and decides to go and squat at his parent's house in the Vale of Pewsey. As he drives there, Ben explains that his parents have many houses and yet spend a lot the year overseas, almost as if they are spending his inheritance on random countryside houses in order to make sure he never finds them and spends time with them at Christmas. Paul Farrady suspects there might be a simpler explanation, when suddenly they run over Jake Simmonds!
Somehow, Jake Simmonds got sucked through to this dimension in a story that the series went to incredible lengths to render non-canonical, and apparently has joined up with Touchwood, who immediately send to Pewsey to investigate a mundane and harmless power failure with instructions to "never come back". Realizing that this is a wild goose chase and no body likes him, Jake breaks down in CBBC issue hystrionics, then cheers up and asks to crash out at Ben's place even though they've never really met before.
Since there is clearly no energy translenslature inside Silbury Hill transporting an army to Earth from another galaxy, Ben takes Jake into his ancestral seat, and locks out Paul, Katie and Corrine. He has no interest with either of the wretched, sex-obsessed harpies who believe the ownership of Ben's smoothe chest is more paramount in importance than anything that HE wants. "Ridiculous, stupid, wine-obsessed trollops," muses the emo-boy, whose chutzpah is sharper than the sharp, sophisticated barbs Katie and Corrine are skewering each other with.
Corrine and Katie continue to argue ownership over the man who crassly dumped one and only had a brief one-night stand with the other, but the feelings of women don't matter, so let us move on. Inside, Ben lights up some candles and then concentrates on getting Jake so utterly pissed that Chatham will be able to have his wicked way with the man six years his elder. After gettig the portable stereo to work on batteries, Ben puts on Philip Glass' 'Heroes' Symphony' and drugs Jake with rohypnol and systematically removes his trousers.
"STOP GETTING FUCKING DRUNK!" Katie shouts in the background. "STOP LISTEN TO STUPID MUSIC! YOU'RE MINE, MOFO!"
"OH GROW UP YOU DRUNKEN SLAGS!" Ben shouts out the window.
Outside, in the cold, Paul Farrady bounces up and down shouting he is in love with Ben and nothing else in the universe matters while Corrine ties Katie to the front door and starts hurling daggers at her.
Inside, Ben pours a fifth bottle of absinthe down Jake's throat and, smoking an opium cigar, Ben downs three bottles of Chardonnay and then forces his firm cheekbones into Jake's inner thighs. Jake is now paralytic and mumbles something about "Ride me, Mickey, ride me! Use me, call me Rose if that helps!" before passing out in his own vomit.
Outside, Katie has strapped Corrine to the front of the morris minor and is about to drive it straight through the front door when a strange wibbling sound is heard and swirling colours light up the house.
"Well, blow me up and call me Nagasaki," muses Paul Farraday, "Something IS coming to Wiltshire from another galaxy! Fancy that!"
Ben is horrified at having his sweet lurve interrupted as the flashing lights flood the house.
A melting sky-ray lolly the size of a jumbo jet is hanging in the air above the house. Drops of the lolly are falling and killing small animals in the immediate vicinity. Realizing this puts the other three in incredible danger, Ben draws the curtains and opens a bottle of exclusive Isle of Arran Cream Liquour as the others outside scream for help.
"HELLO!" Paul Farrady screams. "ALIEN INVASION! GET YOUR FUCKING ARSE INTO GEAR! THERE'S A FUCKING ALIEN INVASION ON YOUR PATCH! DO SOMETHING!"
"OH, TALK ABOUT IRON AGE HILLFORTS OR SOMETHING! I'M BUSY!"
Ben kicks Jake conscious and drags him to his bedroom. There Ben threatens to show his father's collection of antique 18th century pistols to Jake unless they the nasty, and Jake mumbles something about "you drunken hetrophobic cunts" before vomiting all over Ben and passing out once more.
Outside, Paul Farraday obediently starts talking about the celts as Katie smashes a martini glass in two and rams the shards into either side of Corrine's head, causing her to flail around the place and scream hysterically. "Look, I made a Cyberwoman!" laughs Katie insanely.
"YOU PAROCHIAL DOUCHE BAG BITCH!" Corrine roars before blob of sizzling confectionary drops from the UFO and microwaves her skull.
Giggling, Katie assumes a strange kung-fu pose and mystically flies directly up into the air and smashes through the window of Ben's bedroom and finds him trying to lick Jake back to awareness with what he no doubt considers smouldering passion. Katie reacts to this with her usual reserve by grabbing the sides of Ben's mouth and pulling in opposite directions in attempt to rip his head open, shouting homophobic abuse as she does so.
"Fuck off, Katie," sneers Ben.
"OI! CHATHAM!" Katie roars. "WHAT PART OF 'SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP' DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU FUCKER?!?"
Before Ben can lose all his genintals in a meat cleaving accident, suddenly the door to the bedroom explodes to reveal a Dalek! "I'M HERE FOR THE PARTY! WHERE IS THE GOOD BOOZE? WHERE IS THE GOOD BOOZE?!?"
"You've got some nerve interrupting me!" shouts Ben as he grabs Katie and hurls her at the Dalek in the vague hope she might make a good human shield.
It transpires that the Dalek mailed itself to Ben's house via Parcelforce. Once delivered it burst out of the parcel and disguised itself as a magazine or paper cup or something and when the time was right it revealed itself. Ideally this would have been during a dinner party or small social gathering and ridicule Ben on his choice of curtains/wine/trousers etc until he is suitably chastised.
However, things have gone out of control and there is no chance that the Dalek can order a cab or something in order that Ben's guests could go to a wine bar or function room in a pub to finish their night in some style!
Death is here and he's in a mmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaan mood!
Ben runs for the emergency fire escape not realizing his parents removed it as a precaution so if there ever WAS a house-fire and Ben was in his room, he would immediately burn to death.
Ben plummets ten metres down and lands safely atop Paul Farraday. As he gets to his feet, Ben mutters, "Hmm. Obviously my father listened to my advise that the fire escape ruined the look of this listed building, otherwise there would be a moral question mark over trapping me in a burning house."
Ben then remembers that he is being chased by a flying all-purpose armor-plated killing machine unseducable even by Captain "Shag Me" Jack, and runs off into the night, waving his hands in the air and screaming hysterically.
Corrine muses that she looked up the events of the Battle of Canary Wharf on wikipedia, and since all the Daleks were sucked into the void between universes along with the Cybermen, this is obviously some kind of projected illusion trying to tap into their worst fears, and thus, they are perfectly safe.
The Dalek zaps the trio, reducing them all to porrige.
Meanwhile, Ben runs through the wood wailing for his mummy, his pony, Rose Tyler - ANYBODY! - to help him, and finally trips and falls face down into a cowpat. Behind him, the Dustbin follows, intending to suck on Ben's vital juices and absorb what little artron energy can be found.
Ben thinks of Jake's inner thighs and firm, welcoming lips, and smiles happily until he gets a low-level radiation bolt fired up his arse by the Dalek who is right behind him.
Ben flees to a nearby hill which suddenly unfolds like a Barbie playset to reveal an old prop from Space: 1999. The door opens and a tall and elegant old man with long flowing robes and a white beard emerges.
"Oh Christ!" Ben moans fearfully. "It's Brian fucking Blessed!"
"Greetings, Ben Chatham," booms the alien. "I detect that you also have travelled through time."
Ben is confused. "But you... you can't have. The Doctor said that only the Time Lords have that power and that he is now alone. Apart from all the ones that survived and avoid because he's a total prick."
The strange being chuckles and says, "Let that remain..."
"And time agents."
"Let the..."
"And the Family of Blood. And the Vortexians. And the Rachnoss. And the..."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! Now, as I was saying, I'm trying to be mysterious here and you attempting rational thought isn't helping! Right. Where was I? Oh yeah. My name is Merlin. Your civilisation may have legends based on my name. I have slept here for a long time. But now its time to travel again. I apologise for the temporary power drain, unavoidable I am afraid."
"Why did you sleep on Earth? Why do you have to travel again now? Why is it that you need puny Earth energy to do it? And isn't this a total rip off of Stargate SG1?"
"Oh, fine!" The figure tears off his beard to reveal... Bilis Manger. "Typical, Christmas fucking Eve and you have to be even remotely sober! YOU SUCK, Ben Chatham, and I was just trying to cheer myself up. You loser!"
"Are you a Time Lord?"
"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying, emo boy? NO ONE LIKES YOU! YOU ARE A USELESS PIECE OF CRAP WHO DRINKS TOO MUCH!"
"Or are you something else?"
"I give up."
"Is Merlin real?"
"Get a fucking life, Ben, I'm off to Milliways."
The figure vanishes into the space ship and flies away.
Ben muses on this and suddenly has a vision!
A vision of Paul Farraday passed out in his own body waste as he hugs an empty bottle of wine he has affectionately dubbed "Anna Nicole Smith"; a vision of Corrine jamming a skewer through Katie, placing it on a rotissery by a roaring fire; and of himself and Jack making hot, sophisticated non-chav love as snow falls in ridiculous amounts of Fraudien symbolism which will ruin all Ben's expensive Habitat sheets...
The vision intensifies, ala 2001: A Space Oddessy, and Ben watches himself sleep in on Christmas Day, take a shower, put on an exclusive Harrods silk dressing gown, and then gorge himself on mints, tea and croissants.
He sees himself being startled by a Victoria sponge and hiding in an exclusive IKEA filing cabinet with the slow understanding no one got him any presents whatsoever.
He sees himself recieving absolutely no texts and messages from anyone begging him to join their New Year's Eve parties, so he sends an offensive text to Katie Ryan instead.
He sees himself still getting no phone calls from the Doctor praising him for saving humanity with his aftershave on no separate occasions, even after three years of patience.
He sees himself dancing with joy as he gets three texts - before getting depressed when he realizes every message begs him to stay home and put his head in the oven at gas mark 4 for forty minutes until crisp and golden.
He sees himself stalking Jake and hiding in a cafe where he is mistaken for a robot criminal and repeatedly stabbed by people who are well brought up and eductated.
He sees himself gatecrashing his old university friends Nat and Astrella, who claim to have no idea who he is and demand he leave before they call the police.
He sees himself begging Nat to remember his life has no meaning without Ben Chatham, who once smiled at him in 1993.
He sees himself discovering Nat is an international gun-runner and when he tries to talk about late 16th century Flemish art, Jake arrives and uses one of Nat's landmines to blow Ben into the strasophere for being "a boring bunch of dirty Tory tosser scumbags who spend hours smelling their own farts".
He sees himself crashlanding in a club with no dress code full of people with moral certainties, who then kick Ben unsconscious.
He sees himself being dragged out of the Friendly Onion After School Club Disco by police, having been kicked in the head until his kidneys bled.
He sees himself stalk Jake back to his bedsit and demand sex, only to be told he is 'a total prat' and is stabbed through both kidneys by Genghis Khan, who happened to be passing.
He sees himself stagger into a shower and discover the tap was connected to a landmine shortly before he was blown into several thousand pieces in an explosion that left him in increasing order of priority: without corporeal form, with a singed CD collection, and somewhat concerned.
He sees himself as a ghost without legs or pancreas, forced to watch Jake shag Katie while a cat pokes a landmine into a sock with a stick...
This vision ends as the Dalek right behind Ben blasts him at point-blank range.
With a crackle of burning atoms, the mutli-coloured stream of fierce energy leaps from the gun-stick, tears through the air and evelops Ben, tearing at his flesh, burrowing deep into his very soul. He lets out a whining scream as his entire body is set on fire. His back arches as he recieves a huge charge of electricity, and is flung to the ground under the deadly dose of radiation. The smell of ozone floats in the air as the ray floods over Ben, tearing away his skin and flesh, crackling his bones to dust, burning his internal organs, and exploding his mind. As the deadly ray reaches its greatest intensity, Ben lets out a great high-pitched shrieking scream as the searing pain tears apart his very being as the sweeping agony of death tears through his living fibre. Ben's blackened body shrinks and evaporates in an agonizing illusion...
WHOA! Got carried away there.
Ben is shot, screams and suddenly wakes up to find himself sitting naked on a toilet clutching an empty bottle of absinthe and about to castrate himself with a mattock.
He is in fact still in the tiny village of Dertain Ceath in 2005, on Christmas Eve when he was murdering people for diabolic satanistic fun.
IT WAS ALL A DREAM!
ALL OF IT!
The illogical, non-causal, narrative-lacking framework of a very gauche dream!
He never met the Doctor and Rose, or travelled in the TARDIS! Operation Helter-Skelter, Richard III, the evil guinea pigs, Hitler as a baby, it was all a dream and none of it happened!
Shaken, Ben leaves the toilet and discovers the landlord's daughter - Katie Ryan - has gotten drunk again and thrown up her breakfast of bacon and eggs on a plate. She hands it to him, claiming it is a cavair and French blueberry croissant omelette.
Ben calls her various derogatory names he doubts Katie has a hope of understanding, then tells her that he is Father Christmas and he hates her. As she runs off crying, Ben muses that she just doesn't understand him. On second thoughts, however, she looks alright on his arm and allows him to hide his shameful homosexuality.
Ben tracks down Katie and sleeps with her, muttering "Needs must" as he forces her to wear an Adam Rickitt mask during the act. He then punches her unconscious and watches a compilation tape of Lee Willaims and starts wanking as Christmas Day arrives.
The End/The Beginning
BC Holiday Special III: Crime Buster
THE BEN CHATHAM SPIN-OFF ADVENTURES: REMEMBERANCE DAY SPECIAL
"HAM-FISTED-BUM-VENDOR"
Ben Chatham wanders the scorched remains of Cambridge, the only survivor after his bravery, calmness and superhuman bone-idleness allowed an extraterrestrial fire demon destroy the town and everything in it. Now, Ben wanders alone, swigging from a bottle of finest French absinthe, and daydreaming about his own collection of action figures - the Ben Chatham inaction figure, complete with a sofa to lounge around on, phone with which to call UNIT, removable shirt, shower playset with mini Harrods towels and bottle of absinthe. And maybe a Spartha Jones figure (with a special scowling action), and Katie, Charles, Some Generic Unconvincing Bad Guy Who's Obviously An Alien In Disguise and Mumbling Yokel figures...
Ben is dragged screaming out of this capitalist fantasy as he grabbed roughly by figures in gasmasks and has anti-Weevil spray applied to his smoothe retinas. The screaming amateur archaeologist is dragged into a black SUV marked TOUCHWOOD, which hurtles off in the direction of Cardiff.
At the Hub, Captain Jack supervises the team as they ritualistic gang-bash Ben and then use a broken Cyber conversion unit to slice open his skull. A tide of absinthe and a shrivelled walnut-sized brain shoot out. Tosh shoves the rest of her unfinished Chinese takeaway into Ben's hollow skull and Owen uses a staple gun to repair the damage. Their alien technology has REBUILT Ben Chatham, making him faster, stronger, and more tolerant than ever before. He is...
...THE SIXTEEN SHILLING AND NINEPENCE MAN!!!!
This new superhuman being is promptly kicked out of the Hub and starts to strut the streets of Cardiff for days on end, as the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever rings in his ears. As he turns the corner, hears a commotion coming from a jewellers and slow-motion Matrix leaps across the road...
...only to be knocked down by a morris minor moving at normal speed.
As Ben writhes and sobs in agony, a large man emerges from the shop dressed in a black trenchcoat, dark glasses and a hat. This inconspicuous character carries bags full of the shop’s goods. Ben siezes the initiative and limps over to the robber, and manages to grab hold of the hem of the trenchcoat. However, this means Ben is dragged painfully down the road as the criminal runs for freedom with Ben in tow, unable to stay on his feet which now drag uselessly behind him.
Finally, Ben's screams of "ARGH, MY FUCKING LEGS!" are heard by the mysterious malfeasant, who turns and kicks Ben repeatedly in the face until he lets go. Ben staggers backwards and his head crashes into a large bee's nest, and the resulting four thousand two hundred and twelve bee stings cause Ben to weep and scream, and, of course, foul himself.
Meanwhile, the police surround the trenchcoated figure and order him to surrender, before opening fire without waiting for a reply.
To their horror, all the bullets bounce off the figure and each of the cops is shot dead! These men and women who put their lives on the line, unable to reintegrate into the society they have sworn to protect at ANY cost, whose families will soon recieve the dreaded news that mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters and rather embarassing mad old uncles have been slaughtered, and they're going to go to hell because they foolishly allowed themselves to be born Welsh oh god THE FUCKING HUMILITY OF IT ALL!!!
Anyway, moving on.
Ben is run over by the morris minor again. Two men in black emerge, emerge, pick up Ben and dump him in the boot before slamming the lid down on Ben's neck repeatedly. Finally, Ben loses consciousness and floats into a magical world of beautiful Cambridgeshire countryside where Jonas Armstrong and all the smoothe chested males from Robin Hood frolic naked in the grass and play volleyball as rivers foam with absinthe...
Ben sadly returns to reality to discover he has ruined his underwear.
He is also lying in a smelly heap in the middle of a drawing room in a large house, where a dinner-jacked clad wheelchair-bound man immediately runs over him to get to the fireplace. Ben gets to his feet, somehow able to regenerate his sickening injuries thanks to a mix of his alien implants and bad linear continuity. The wheelchair man spins around and runs over Ben again for a laugh and then repeatedly clubs him over the head with a loaded gun.
"Hello, dear boy! I am Alistair Miles. Would you like a drop of port?"
Ben has a strange vision of himself drinking a lake's worth of port and seducing the crippled octogenerian, but his replacement brain forces the image away.
"You can keep your stinking port!" he roars.
"It's very GOOD port."
"Is it? Oh. Well... No, I don't care HOW good the port is, I don't want it? At all!"
"You sure?"
"Er... maybe. God, I'm already starting to shake. Need alcohol... no. Must be strong. Why have you brought me here?"
"That was due to a simple error. You see, no doubt you're wondering about my little creation that you saw earlier."
"Huh?"
"The trenchcoat guy robbing shops, you moron."
"Oh yeah. I knew that. Try to keep this as civilized as possible."
"My dear boy, I apologize. It's just that your smoothe chest is so smooth it is as bullet proof as Teflon, leading the detectors to mistake your nubile physique for my little creation."
"Huh?"
"The trenchcoat guy robbing shops, you moron."
"But that's not little, it's huge!"
"OK, my huge creation. That is the future as far as crime is concerned."
"A robot bank robber?"
"YES! The ultimate robot! Bullet proof, stronger than 100 medium-sized men! No safe will be secure once an army of them is at my command!"
"You built a huge robot... to rob banks."
"Yes, I scavenged the technology left by the Cyberman invasion to design it!"
"The Cybermen technology was all sucked out of reality!"
"OK. Well, er, it LOOKS a bit Cybermanish. It's an Atari 87 with up to 3 bytes of data storage! I will be the ULTIMATE CYBER CRIMINAL!"
"You know, "cyber crime" is all about hacking into computers rather than building giant robots to steal jewelry?"
"Is it? Fuck!"
"In fact, won't all the police notice a giant robot criminal running back here to drop the swag off before going on further raids? And if it tries to steal any gold, it'll probably self destruct! Assuming it doesn't trip and fall into a puddle, cause it doesn't look very waterproof..."
Alistair Miles breaks down in sobs, covering his ears and starts screaming that he rejects this reality and is substituting it with one of his own. Ben is dragged down to the wine cellar, shouting out suggestions that maybe the robot-criminals be used to, say, conquer the whole damn world so there will no need for any boring theft. At this point, Alistair Miles starts wailing and smashing his head against a table as he miserably realizes he has been outthought by Ben fucking Chatham of all people.
Ben spots a bottle of wine, picks it up and leaps up in the air, spins around in a helicopter motion so his two guards are brutally bludgeoned unconscious. He then jumps and runs along the wall, jumps, swings on a chandelier and bounces off the dining table to land behind Alistair Miles. He kicks the chair, rotating it and then kicks down the brake, hurling the old man through a window and onto the hard gravel outside. Ben runs, jumps, backflips, and arrives next to the bleeding, gravel-ravaged 80 year old, then smashes the bottle of wine over his defenseless skull.
"A 1935 Chatau d’ Lemarche Claret?!" wheezes Alistair Miles, horrified. "The 1934 is far better suited to beatings!"
Alistair slumps, dead and Ben jams the broken end into his spine and crushes it beneath his boot.
Since the police are wiped out, Ben knows he will need Touchwood to defeat the mechanical menace...
Just then, the Touchwood SUV runs him down and Touchwood immediately take over the situation. Ben is thrown out of the crime scene area and dubbed "a fucking R-tard amateur" by Ianto, who backhands Ben and tells him when they want a cry-baby little wanker to get drunk on the Hub sofa, they'll ask ANYONE except him. Gwen punches him repeatedly as he wails that he's defeated the bad guys and they must stop this Cybernaut-wannabe from destroying Cardiff.
Touchwood Three laugh in his smoothe, vacant face.
Heart broken, Ben sobs and then steals the SUV to drive home, shouting "Syonara, you loser freaks!" as he does so.
Meanwhile, the mysterious Mister Saxon has orderered the artillery to take on the robot criminal, but sixteen tanks firing continual salvos for four hours have done naught more than dislodged the robot's sunglasses, revealing a smoothe silvery metal face beneath. Ben drives past, uninterested.
It strikes Ben that he doesn't ACTUALLY have a home to go to and instead decides to stop the SUV and sit right where he is until something interesting happens.
Six hours later, Ben spots Charles Broxby walking down the street and instantly leaps out of the truck and hugs him, sobbing with joy and incoherently wailing how great it is to see him and how they would really like to have a coffee.
"Who the hell are you?!?" demands Charles, coldly.
"It's me! Ben Chatham!"
"Who?"
Ben realizes that the Charles he fell in love with was just a computer simulation by the TARDIS memory banks, and tries to explain this to Charles. However, learning his destiny was pissed about with by the Big Berk doesn't cheer Charles up at all, and in fact, it pisses him off even more.
"Are you the Ben that Katie woman is always on about? She's been phoning me all hours screaming at me to keep my poofy fingers off your silky joy department or she'll ram a vibrating dildo up my spinal column! And stuff like that! The woman's deranged!"
"She's just protective..."
"I mean, she's deranged to actually fancy you, you gonad!"
"DON'T MAKE ME ANGRY AND EMOTIONAL, CHARLES! YOU WOULDN'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY AND EMOTIONAL!!!" Ben screams, shaking Charles violently by the throat. "Just because you were conditioned to fall in love with my old incarnation, suddenly that's a good excuse to dump me and blank me for three months?! You couldn't even reply to my texts? WHAT SORT OF BASTARD ARE YOU?!?"
Charles in unmoved as Ben repeatedly flushes his head down the lavatory. Between flushes he points out "You're a fucking lunatic! Help! HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"
Ben's deep eyes fill with tears as he ties Charles to a bed and breaks both his legs. "Why don't you fancy me? WHY?!?" he wails.
"Well, let's face it Ben," says Charles after he regains consciousness. "Even if you weren't a totally biopolar psycho bastard so far in the closet you have your letters addressed to Narnia, you're the most pathetic git I've ever met! You spend all your time getting drunk on the couch and insulting chavs! When was the last time you travelled through time and space in a TARDIS? Never, that's what, you uncanonical loser wank-stain!!"
"Is that all you wanted from the relationship?" screams Ben, sharpening a knife. "A pretty face? Sex? And tolerance to chavs while travelling through time and space? YOU FUCKING BASTARD, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!!"
Charles realizes that he might have made a balls up of his negotiation techniques with his violent, bio-polar captor who is now suffering the worst DTs in known hisotry. Ben puts on 'Stuck in the Middle With You', dances a bit and then approaches the prostate ex-boyfriend with the very sharp knife...
Outside, several intercontinental ballistic missiles have totally failed to even slow the robot criminal down. As Captain Jack and the rest of Touchwood deploy Cardiff's last hope, a neutron bomb affectionately called 'Big Emma', something inexplicable happens!
A first edition of Jessel's "The Archaeology of the Celts and the Pagans Who Love Them" flies out of a nearby apartment window, whizzes through the air and smacks into the back of the robot criminal, which totters and falls, its head smashing off and rolling away from its gyrating torso.
As everyone stares in shock at this, Ben runs into view, covered in blood and clutching wet lumps of warm hairy flesh. Bursting with pride, he explains he has single-handedly prevented the biggest crime wave in the United Kingdom, AND Cardiff, and frankly expects a lot of apologies and love from the Touchwood Team.
The five alien hunters stare at him.
"Are you SERIOUS?" Jack demands, incredulously.
"Hey, I've just been rejected by Charles. I need male attention! Besides, the proliferation of cyber technology is of the utmost concern to you people. You should all sing 'For He's A Jolly Good Fellow' about now. Go on. Do it."
"Er, scuse me," Owen points out, "How come you managed to stop a robot by flinging a book at it by accident?"
"Easy. Alistair Miles ensured the robot was impervious to bullets but never once considered ensuring it was impervious to books flung by week, teary, emo fools! Now, Jack, ruffle my hair."
"What?"
"Ruffle my hair."
Jack backs away reluctantly. "I don't..."
"RUFFLE MY HAIR, GODDAMMIT!"
With with the skin of Captain Jack's hand about to be torn off by the viscosity and adhesiveness of Ben Chatham's hair gel, while by-standers are pelted with molten globules dislodged from his barnet, the tension is UNBEARABLE!
"For fuck's sake," says Tosh all of a sudden and shoots Ben through the head. He drops to the ground, grinning manically like a retarded toddler while the remains of the Chinese takeaway leak out his ears.
The Touchwood team then link arms and skip away, singing 'Smack My Chatham Up'.
Jack: I was chillin', right around my way. 31st Eastside on the river Cam. This mofo robbed a store, rockin' silver-faced like he was a straight... Cyb! Feeling the heat while runnin' away, my Chatham homie set nag on 'im. Some things, ma, they just don't change... some gangster respect ANYTHING but the Chath-man...
Owen: Fatso, you won't believe what I saw
I saw these pack of guys, man, they dressed real hard
Gwen: And what they do?
Jack: They offered port, said you know who we are
He said: I don't give a fuck, I got a first
Tosh: WTF?!
Jack: They get expositioning it went too pedantz
So Benny went reached right down in his pantz
Ianto: Jesus Christ...
Jack: Got his mobile and he starts texting on 'fly
Sees he got no messages and then he just cries
WEAK!
All: Cry Ben, Cry Ben
Text Ben, Text Ben
Cry Ben, Cry Ben
Etc Ben, Etc
Jack: I didn't mean to throw what I threw
Now that's a first edition out the door, 'fore I knew
But these ETs slash my towel and trash my clothes they run foul
Believe and you can see
I cracked the tests and got a first, bwai
Tosh: And smack your mind back, you dropped out
Bet you didn't even make it a week
Got no degrees, got no business wit' me
Shut up, man, don' care about your words
Chavs don't drink as much as I can
Gwen: You would think that they use braincells
Believe in all the things that you never heard
ABBA, Bowie, Tim Machine and Radiohead
You think you know? But this can't go
You think you know the Low [Album]?
Owen: No, no, no, no, no
Jack: I'm so soused I ain't need no continuity
Get yo'self to a real fic community
Did I mention my first from Cambridge?
Ianto: I wouldn't be the man that I be
If I didn't drink Rwanda's GDP
God Damn
I wonder if Charles has texted me yet?
No, Katie - she still think that I'm het
Tosh: Nothin' wrong with that, I can just close my eyes
You never seen denial like this
You never seen a snob like me
And I ain't weak for kickin' back drinkin all the time
It keeps me calm and dignified, fool
Unlike people consumed in tha blaze
Chavs really oughta change they ways
We gotta move this track cuz my mind's
About..... to...... find
What a blackout's like when it...
(Several bars of vomiting and incontinence)
Jack: Just go to the chorus!
Gwen: Fatso, you won't believe what I saw
I saw these silver guys, man, they climbed stairs real hard
Owen: And what they do?
Tosh: They opened door, said you know who we are
He said: Why don't I have no text?
Jack: Erm, okay...
Gwen: It got awkward, di'n't see 'em like they be gelth
Til Ben reached down to his bookshelf
Jack: I see...
Owen: Got his book and threw it at his pissed ex.
Missed and hit a robot that it happened to decks!
All: WHAT?!
Ianto: Fatso, man, I just told you it all
Those silver guys, man, must be real retard
Jack: You tellin' me!
Tosh: Didn't even think of grabbing theyselves a gat
I say they get rolled even by his parent's cat!
Jack: Didn't he die?
Gwen: Nah, man, got messy - turned out to be a dream
So that be as canon as the TVM
Jack: This is getting sad.
But this story, man, it don't end there
Crazy mofo begged me to tussle his hair
WEIRD!
Ianto: Lest we forget...
"HAM-FISTED-BUM-VENDOR"
Ben Chatham wanders the scorched remains of Cambridge, the only survivor after his bravery, calmness and superhuman bone-idleness allowed an extraterrestrial fire demon destroy the town and everything in it. Now, Ben wanders alone, swigging from a bottle of finest French absinthe, and daydreaming about his own collection of action figures - the Ben Chatham inaction figure, complete with a sofa to lounge around on, phone with which to call UNIT, removable shirt, shower playset with mini Harrods towels and bottle of absinthe. And maybe a Spartha Jones figure (with a special scowling action), and Katie, Charles, Some Generic Unconvincing Bad Guy Who's Obviously An Alien In Disguise and Mumbling Yokel figures...
Ben is dragged screaming out of this capitalist fantasy as he grabbed roughly by figures in gasmasks and has anti-Weevil spray applied to his smoothe retinas. The screaming amateur archaeologist is dragged into a black SUV marked TOUCHWOOD, which hurtles off in the direction of Cardiff.
At the Hub, Captain Jack supervises the team as they ritualistic gang-bash Ben and then use a broken Cyber conversion unit to slice open his skull. A tide of absinthe and a shrivelled walnut-sized brain shoot out. Tosh shoves the rest of her unfinished Chinese takeaway into Ben's hollow skull and Owen uses a staple gun to repair the damage. Their alien technology has REBUILT Ben Chatham, making him faster, stronger, and more tolerant than ever before. He is...
...THE SIXTEEN SHILLING AND NINEPENCE MAN!!!!
This new superhuman being is promptly kicked out of the Hub and starts to strut the streets of Cardiff for days on end, as the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever rings in his ears. As he turns the corner, hears a commotion coming from a jewellers and slow-motion Matrix leaps across the road...
...only to be knocked down by a morris minor moving at normal speed.
As Ben writhes and sobs in agony, a large man emerges from the shop dressed in a black trenchcoat, dark glasses and a hat. This inconspicuous character carries bags full of the shop’s goods. Ben siezes the initiative and limps over to the robber, and manages to grab hold of the hem of the trenchcoat. However, this means Ben is dragged painfully down the road as the criminal runs for freedom with Ben in tow, unable to stay on his feet which now drag uselessly behind him.
Finally, Ben's screams of "ARGH, MY FUCKING LEGS!" are heard by the mysterious malfeasant, who turns and kicks Ben repeatedly in the face until he lets go. Ben staggers backwards and his head crashes into a large bee's nest, and the resulting four thousand two hundred and twelve bee stings cause Ben to weep and scream, and, of course, foul himself.
Meanwhile, the police surround the trenchcoated figure and order him to surrender, before opening fire without waiting for a reply.
To their horror, all the bullets bounce off the figure and each of the cops is shot dead! These men and women who put their lives on the line, unable to reintegrate into the society they have sworn to protect at ANY cost, whose families will soon recieve the dreaded news that mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters and rather embarassing mad old uncles have been slaughtered, and they're going to go to hell because they foolishly allowed themselves to be born Welsh oh god THE FUCKING HUMILITY OF IT ALL!!!
Anyway, moving on.
Ben is run over by the morris minor again. Two men in black emerge, emerge, pick up Ben and dump him in the boot before slamming the lid down on Ben's neck repeatedly. Finally, Ben loses consciousness and floats into a magical world of beautiful Cambridgeshire countryside where Jonas Armstrong and all the smoothe chested males from Robin Hood frolic naked in the grass and play volleyball as rivers foam with absinthe...
Ben sadly returns to reality to discover he has ruined his underwear.
He is also lying in a smelly heap in the middle of a drawing room in a large house, where a dinner-jacked clad wheelchair-bound man immediately runs over him to get to the fireplace. Ben gets to his feet, somehow able to regenerate his sickening injuries thanks to a mix of his alien implants and bad linear continuity. The wheelchair man spins around and runs over Ben again for a laugh and then repeatedly clubs him over the head with a loaded gun.
"Hello, dear boy! I am Alistair Miles. Would you like a drop of port?"
Ben has a strange vision of himself drinking a lake's worth of port and seducing the crippled octogenerian, but his replacement brain forces the image away.
"You can keep your stinking port!" he roars.
"It's very GOOD port."
"Is it? Oh. Well... No, I don't care HOW good the port is, I don't want it? At all!"
"You sure?"
"Er... maybe. God, I'm already starting to shake. Need alcohol... no. Must be strong. Why have you brought me here?"
"That was due to a simple error. You see, no doubt you're wondering about my little creation that you saw earlier."
"Huh?"
"The trenchcoat guy robbing shops, you moron."
"Oh yeah. I knew that. Try to keep this as civilized as possible."
"My dear boy, I apologize. It's just that your smoothe chest is so smooth it is as bullet proof as Teflon, leading the detectors to mistake your nubile physique for my little creation."
"Huh?"
"The trenchcoat guy robbing shops, you moron."
"But that's not little, it's huge!"
"OK, my huge creation. That is the future as far as crime is concerned."
"A robot bank robber?"
"YES! The ultimate robot! Bullet proof, stronger than 100 medium-sized men! No safe will be secure once an army of them is at my command!"
"You built a huge robot... to rob banks."
"Yes, I scavenged the technology left by the Cyberman invasion to design it!"
"The Cybermen technology was all sucked out of reality!"
"OK. Well, er, it LOOKS a bit Cybermanish. It's an Atari 87 with up to 3 bytes of data storage! I will be the ULTIMATE CYBER CRIMINAL!"
"You know, "cyber crime" is all about hacking into computers rather than building giant robots to steal jewelry?"
"Is it? Fuck!"
"In fact, won't all the police notice a giant robot criminal running back here to drop the swag off before going on further raids? And if it tries to steal any gold, it'll probably self destruct! Assuming it doesn't trip and fall into a puddle, cause it doesn't look very waterproof..."
Alistair Miles breaks down in sobs, covering his ears and starts screaming that he rejects this reality and is substituting it with one of his own. Ben is dragged down to the wine cellar, shouting out suggestions that maybe the robot-criminals be used to, say, conquer the whole damn world so there will no need for any boring theft. At this point, Alistair Miles starts wailing and smashing his head against a table as he miserably realizes he has been outthought by Ben fucking Chatham of all people.
Ben spots a bottle of wine, picks it up and leaps up in the air, spins around in a helicopter motion so his two guards are brutally bludgeoned unconscious. He then jumps and runs along the wall, jumps, swings on a chandelier and bounces off the dining table to land behind Alistair Miles. He kicks the chair, rotating it and then kicks down the brake, hurling the old man through a window and onto the hard gravel outside. Ben runs, jumps, backflips, and arrives next to the bleeding, gravel-ravaged 80 year old, then smashes the bottle of wine over his defenseless skull.
"A 1935 Chatau d’ Lemarche Claret?!" wheezes Alistair Miles, horrified. "The 1934 is far better suited to beatings!"
Alistair slumps, dead and Ben jams the broken end into his spine and crushes it beneath his boot.
Since the police are wiped out, Ben knows he will need Touchwood to defeat the mechanical menace...
Just then, the Touchwood SUV runs him down and Touchwood immediately take over the situation. Ben is thrown out of the crime scene area and dubbed "a fucking R-tard amateur" by Ianto, who backhands Ben and tells him when they want a cry-baby little wanker to get drunk on the Hub sofa, they'll ask ANYONE except him. Gwen punches him repeatedly as he wails that he's defeated the bad guys and they must stop this Cybernaut-wannabe from destroying Cardiff.
Touchwood Three laugh in his smoothe, vacant face.
Heart broken, Ben sobs and then steals the SUV to drive home, shouting "Syonara, you loser freaks!" as he does so.
Meanwhile, the mysterious Mister Saxon has orderered the artillery to take on the robot criminal, but sixteen tanks firing continual salvos for four hours have done naught more than dislodged the robot's sunglasses, revealing a smoothe silvery metal face beneath. Ben drives past, uninterested.
It strikes Ben that he doesn't ACTUALLY have a home to go to and instead decides to stop the SUV and sit right where he is until something interesting happens.
Six hours later, Ben spots Charles Broxby walking down the street and instantly leaps out of the truck and hugs him, sobbing with joy and incoherently wailing how great it is to see him and how they would really like to have a coffee.
"Who the hell are you?!?" demands Charles, coldly.
"It's me! Ben Chatham!"
"Who?"
Ben realizes that the Charles he fell in love with was just a computer simulation by the TARDIS memory banks, and tries to explain this to Charles. However, learning his destiny was pissed about with by the Big Berk doesn't cheer Charles up at all, and in fact, it pisses him off even more.
"Are you the Ben that Katie woman is always on about? She's been phoning me all hours screaming at me to keep my poofy fingers off your silky joy department or she'll ram a vibrating dildo up my spinal column! And stuff like that! The woman's deranged!"
"She's just protective..."
"I mean, she's deranged to actually fancy you, you gonad!"
"DON'T MAKE ME ANGRY AND EMOTIONAL, CHARLES! YOU WOULDN'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY AND EMOTIONAL!!!" Ben screams, shaking Charles violently by the throat. "Just because you were conditioned to fall in love with my old incarnation, suddenly that's a good excuse to dump me and blank me for three months?! You couldn't even reply to my texts? WHAT SORT OF BASTARD ARE YOU?!?"
Charles in unmoved as Ben repeatedly flushes his head down the lavatory. Between flushes he points out "You're a fucking lunatic! Help! HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"
Ben's deep eyes fill with tears as he ties Charles to a bed and breaks both his legs. "Why don't you fancy me? WHY?!?" he wails.
"Well, let's face it Ben," says Charles after he regains consciousness. "Even if you weren't a totally biopolar psycho bastard so far in the closet you have your letters addressed to Narnia, you're the most pathetic git I've ever met! You spend all your time getting drunk on the couch and insulting chavs! When was the last time you travelled through time and space in a TARDIS? Never, that's what, you uncanonical loser wank-stain!!"
"Is that all you wanted from the relationship?" screams Ben, sharpening a knife. "A pretty face? Sex? And tolerance to chavs while travelling through time and space? YOU FUCKING BASTARD, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!!"
Charles realizes that he might have made a balls up of his negotiation techniques with his violent, bio-polar captor who is now suffering the worst DTs in known hisotry. Ben puts on 'Stuck in the Middle With You', dances a bit and then approaches the prostate ex-boyfriend with the very sharp knife...
Outside, several intercontinental ballistic missiles have totally failed to even slow the robot criminal down. As Captain Jack and the rest of Touchwood deploy Cardiff's last hope, a neutron bomb affectionately called 'Big Emma', something inexplicable happens!
A first edition of Jessel's "The Archaeology of the Celts and the Pagans Who Love Them" flies out of a nearby apartment window, whizzes through the air and smacks into the back of the robot criminal, which totters and falls, its head smashing off and rolling away from its gyrating torso.
As everyone stares in shock at this, Ben runs into view, covered in blood and clutching wet lumps of warm hairy flesh. Bursting with pride, he explains he has single-handedly prevented the biggest crime wave in the United Kingdom, AND Cardiff, and frankly expects a lot of apologies and love from the Touchwood Team.
The five alien hunters stare at him.
"Are you SERIOUS?" Jack demands, incredulously.
"Hey, I've just been rejected by Charles. I need male attention! Besides, the proliferation of cyber technology is of the utmost concern to you people. You should all sing 'For He's A Jolly Good Fellow' about now. Go on. Do it."
"Er, scuse me," Owen points out, "How come you managed to stop a robot by flinging a book at it by accident?"
"Easy. Alistair Miles ensured the robot was impervious to bullets but never once considered ensuring it was impervious to books flung by week, teary, emo fools! Now, Jack, ruffle my hair."
"What?"
"Ruffle my hair."
Jack backs away reluctantly. "I don't..."
"RUFFLE MY HAIR, GODDAMMIT!"
With with the skin of Captain Jack's hand about to be torn off by the viscosity and adhesiveness of Ben Chatham's hair gel, while by-standers are pelted with molten globules dislodged from his barnet, the tension is UNBEARABLE!
"For fuck's sake," says Tosh all of a sudden and shoots Ben through the head. He drops to the ground, grinning manically like a retarded toddler while the remains of the Chinese takeaway leak out his ears.
The Touchwood team then link arms and skip away, singing 'Smack My Chatham Up'.
Jack: I was chillin', right around my way. 31st Eastside on the river Cam. This mofo robbed a store, rockin' silver-faced like he was a straight... Cyb! Feeling the heat while runnin' away, my Chatham homie set nag on 'im. Some things, ma, they just don't change... some gangster respect ANYTHING but the Chath-man...
Owen: Fatso, you won't believe what I saw
I saw these pack of guys, man, they dressed real hard
Gwen: And what they do?
Jack: They offered port, said you know who we are
He said: I don't give a fuck, I got a first
Tosh: WTF?!
Jack: They get expositioning it went too pedantz
So Benny went reached right down in his pantz
Ianto: Jesus Christ...
Jack: Got his mobile and he starts texting on 'fly
Sees he got no messages and then he just cries
WEAK!
All: Cry Ben, Cry Ben
Text Ben, Text Ben
Cry Ben, Cry Ben
Etc Ben, Etc
Jack: I didn't mean to throw what I threw
Now that's a first edition out the door, 'fore I knew
But these ETs slash my towel and trash my clothes they run foul
Believe and you can see
I cracked the tests and got a first, bwai
Tosh: And smack your mind back, you dropped out
Bet you didn't even make it a week
Got no degrees, got no business wit' me
Shut up, man, don' care about your words
Chavs don't drink as much as I can
Gwen: You would think that they use braincells
Believe in all the things that you never heard
ABBA, Bowie, Tim Machine and Radiohead
You think you know? But this can't go
You think you know the Low [Album]?
Owen: No, no, no, no, no
Jack: I'm so soused I ain't need no continuity
Get yo'self to a real fic community
Did I mention my first from Cambridge?
Ianto: I wouldn't be the man that I be
If I didn't drink Rwanda's GDP
God Damn
I wonder if Charles has texted me yet?
No, Katie - she still think that I'm het
Tosh: Nothin' wrong with that, I can just close my eyes
You never seen denial like this
You never seen a snob like me
And I ain't weak for kickin' back drinkin all the time
It keeps me calm and dignified, fool
Unlike people consumed in tha blaze
Chavs really oughta change they ways
We gotta move this track cuz my mind's
About..... to...... find
What a blackout's like when it...
(Several bars of vomiting and incontinence)
Jack: Just go to the chorus!
Gwen: Fatso, you won't believe what I saw
I saw these silver guys, man, they climbed stairs real hard
Owen: And what they do?
Tosh: They opened door, said you know who we are
He said: Why don't I have no text?
Jack: Erm, okay...
Gwen: It got awkward, di'n't see 'em like they be gelth
Til Ben reached down to his bookshelf
Jack: I see...
Owen: Got his book and threw it at his pissed ex.
Missed and hit a robot that it happened to decks!
All: WHAT?!
Ianto: Fatso, man, I just told you it all
Those silver guys, man, must be real retard
Jack: You tellin' me!
Tosh: Didn't even think of grabbing theyselves a gat
I say they get rolled even by his parent's cat!
Jack: Didn't he die?
Gwen: Nah, man, got messy - turned out to be a dream
So that be as canon as the TVM
Jack: This is getting sad.
But this story, man, it don't end there
Crazy mofo begged me to tussle his hair
WEIRD!
Ianto: Lest we forget...
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