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...