DOCTOR WHO - THE NEW SERIES CONTINUES

DOCTOR WHO: SPACE:1969

The following exchange of dialogue to be delivered as fast as the actors can manage it, cut together in a dizzying sequence of camera angles:


Open on: a desert landscape. The DOCTOR lies dead at the feet of AMY, RORY and RIVERSONG.

AMY (Acting rather badly): Boo-hoo, the Doctor’s dead.

RIVERSONG: He didn’t even know who I was.

RORY (noticing something out of shot): Wait a minute, who’s that?

A long, dramatic shot of a rugged skyline. A lone figure stands silhouetted against the sun. He begins to walk towards us.

AMY, RORY and RIVERSONG shield their eyes and stare at the advancing figure.

AMY: It’s… it’s…

RORY: It can’t be.

RIVERSONG: It isn’t.

AMY: It is! It’s the Doctor! He’s alive! (Shouting, she begins to run towards him): DOCTOR! What happened? Are you all right? We thought you were dead.

DOCTOR: Who, me? What? Jamie, is that you?

AMY: Doctor, it’s me, Amy.

DOCTOR (looks puzzled): Doctor? Why do you call me that?

AMY: Because you’re the Doctor!

DOCTOR: I am? Doctor Who, exactly? (Checks inside his jacket, mutters to self). No name in there.

RORY: Don’t you know who you are?

RIVERSONG: Don’t you know who I am?

RORY (addressing Riversong): What’s this thing that’s going to happen to you, anyway?

RIVERSONG: Something dark and terrible but I can’t tell you until the last episode of the series. And even then I won’t tell you properly.

DOCTOR: Good girl, you’re learning. Whoever you are.

RIVERSONG: Don’t you know me, Doctor?

DOCTOR: No. And stop calling me Doctor.

AMY: We saw you killed. You were dead.

DOCTOR: No, not me. Now him over there, he’s definitely dead. (Indicates out of shot).

In the middle distance, the ‘dead’ Doctor is getting to his feet. He begins to walk away into the landscape.

AMY: Doctor! Wait! (runs after him).

Dramatic Murray Gold sound bed as RORY and RIVERSONG run frantically after AMY as she runs after the DOCTOR in a cascade of jerky camerawork.

RORY: Amy! No!

The DOCTOR has stopped. He turns, smiles and holds out his hand towards AMY. She reaches out but just as her fingers are about to make contact, the DOCTOR explodes in a shower of tiny white particles.

AMY stares in disbelief as RORY and RIVERSONG catch up with her. RORY catches her sleeve and points out of shot.

Cut to: the Tardis materialises. Door opens and the DOCTOR exits, wearing a fez.

DOCTOR: I trust I’m in time? Am I dead yet?

AMY: Doctor, is that really you?

DOCTOR: Oh, I’m always really me. (Takes pocket watch from his jacket and consults it). Tell me, how many times have I been killed and resurrected this week?

AMY: Ten times?

RORY: I’ve lost count.

RIVERSONG: Don’t you know who I am?

AMY: Please, Doctor, tell us what’s going on.

DOCTOR: It’s quite simple, Jamie. Just a straightforward plot convolusion. No more.

AMY: But what does it all mean?

DOCTOR waltzes around them, grinning and making random arm movements.

DOCTOR: Mean? Why does anything have to mean anything? It’s all lumpy bumpy timey wimey stuff after all. Nothing’s a straight line. Nothing makes any sense. No one is who they appear to be. Even Riversong here.

RIVERSONG (delightedly): He knows who I am!

DOCTOR: For the time being.

RORY: Look, where is all this getting us?

DOCTOR: Nowhere. Time is an illusion, a paradox. It can do whatever we want it to do. It’s just wibbly wobbly stuff. Time is a jelly. Actually, I quite fancy some jelly and blancmange.

AMY: Doctor are you all right? What’s going on?

DOCTOR: I don’t think anyone knows the answer to that, Jamie. Even the person who’s writing our lines for us.

RORY: Our what?

AMY: You mean we’re just characters in a TV series?

DOCTOR: Look, I can’t explain anything else at the moment. I have an urgent appointment with some weird aliens who are going to kill me, resurrect me, send me back in time a thousand years so that I grow a beard, then imprison me in 1969 for two hundred years, kill me again, resurrect me and send me back in time so I can prevent all of this from happening – which it hasn’t.

RIVERSONG: Just tell us, please – when is any of this going to start making sense.

DOCTOR: Sense, sweetie? You’ll have to wait for the final end of the universe as we know it cliffhanger episode if you want to make any sense of this. And even then, I can’t offer any guarantees. Whoever you are.

CUT TO: A suburban living room. The Doctor is on the television. He turns and, 'breaking the fourth wall', addresses a girl and boy sitting on a sofa.

DOCTOR: What do you think of it so far?

Girl and boy exchange glances. Girl picks up the remote control and aims it at the television. The picture disappears.

CUT TO: The original desert landscape. The DOCTOR is lying dead at the feet of AMY, RORY and RIVERSONG.

RORY: He's dead again.

AMY: He can't be...

Repeat all of the preceding sequence every Saturday evening for the next two months.

Paul McCartney and Elvis Costello attempt to write 'Veronica'

Elvis Costello's 'Spike' album contained a number of songs co-written with Paul McCartney, a collaboration we've heard no more of. Here's a short script attempting to visualise that process at work.


Elvis has just sung the verse and chorus of 'Veronica' to Macca:


Macca: That needs an extra note at the end of the phrase, Elvis.

EC: No, it's fine. (sings it)

Macca: Do you see what I mean? It needs to go 'Veronica-uh' (sings it)

EC: No it doesn't.

Macca: Hey, are you telling me how to write songs or what?

EC: I'm saying it doesn't need an extra note.

Macca: Right, so Mr. Oliver's Army knows better than the bloke who wrote Sgt Pepper, and She Loves You and all the other Beatles songs? You're not even the real Elvis! I've met him, he lives in a bungalow
surrounded by beefburgers.

EC: Well, if the sleeve of Abbey Road is to be believed, you're not even
the real Paul McCartney. He died in a motorbike accident in '66.

Macca: No he didn't. I mean, I didn't. Look, are you going to put that
note in or what?

EC: You're deliberately trying to spoil my song! No wonder the other
Beatles hated you.

Macca: So you admit I'm the real Paul McCartney, then?

EC: Only the real Paul could be as irritating as you are...


And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why no more was heard of the fabled
'McCartney/ Costello' songwriting partnership...