Dear Doctor,
Here is this week’s list of requests, for your approval (or otherwise):
1 x can extra-strength hairspray.
Book on the history of ‘this ridiculous planet, let’s see why he likes it so much’.
Some of those sugar mice with string tails. (Because ‘you can dangle them by the tail and bite them and it feels like you’re eating something alive.’ I pointed out that this was not necessarily behaviour of which you’d approve, and she said, ‘Why not? I always imagined that was why he was so fond of jelly babies.’)
Yours sincerely,
Nardole
N. Yeah, go on, she can have all of that. D
Sir, I was expecting you to deny that thing about the jelly babies. N
N. Really? I have to deny things now? Show a little faith! D
You still haven’t actually denied it. N
*
Your Andromeda.gal.ax order #ZZ9-ZZZ-B
Delivery Update
Hello Mr N A Rdole!
We’re going to deliver your package today.
If nobody’s available to accept the delivery, we’ll leave it in your preferred time zone if you’ve selected alternative galactic coordinates under preferences. Otherwise, if possible we’ll teleport the package to a nearby life form that has reached an appropriate place on the evolutionary scale.
Delivery Information:
History of the World (hardback) by T.B. Dryden-Butler.
This is the final part of your order. Your order is now complete.
*
Dear Doctor,
Here is the latest list of requests, for your approval or disapproval:
1 x mascara (black, volumising).
Some more sheet music. Something classical (Bach, Beethoven, Stormzy).
A book on the history of this ridiculous planet ‘that actually has some women in it’.
A bag of marshmallows.
A small campfire (for toasting the above).
Yours sincerely,
Nardole
N. No to the campfire. If she’s still got that can of hairspray, we could be in big trouble. The rest is OK. D
*
Your Andromeda.gal.ax order #ZZ9-ZZZ-C
Delivery Update
Hello Mr N A Rdole!
We’re going to deliver your package today.
Thank you for updating your delivery preferences. We have noted that you have updated your taxonomic profile to indicate that we are not to leave parcels with members of the kingdom Plantae (hereafter referred to as ‘plants’). We apologise for the error. We have corrected our system to indicate ‘plants’ are not the major intelligent life forms on planet Earth.
Delivery Information:
‘Lovely Lovely Lashes’ (midnight black).
The Girls’ Big Book of Historical Women (paperback) by Mirabelle Dolby.
This is the final part of your order. Your order is now complete.
*
Dear Doctor,
This is what she’s come up with this week, for you to say yay or nay:
1 x pack blister plasters. Apparently wearing heels all the time is murder on your feet, but neither of us would know that as we’re just pathetic men with no understanding of what women suffer.
A packet of liquorice whips. Or actual whips. Or liquorice whips that are big enough to be used as actual whips.
A book on women in the history of this ridiculous planet ‘which isn’t just about who they’re married to’.
A tiger.
Yours sincerely,
Nardole
N. Yeah, that’s OK. D
Actually, second thoughts, not the tiger. It wouldn’t be fair on the tiger. D
Dear Sir,
Aaargh! Already ordered it!
N
*
Your Andromeda.gal.ax order #ZZ9-ZZZ-D
Delivery Update
Hello Mr N A Rdole!
We’re going to deliver your package today.
Thank you for updating your delivery preferences. We note that we are also not to leave parcels with members of the kingdom Fungi (hereafter referred to as ‘fungi’) and have noted that you consider the kingdom Animalia (hereafter referred to as ‘animals’) to be the dominant life forms on planet Earth, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Delivery Information:
Great Women in History (hardback) by E. Smythe (Dr). Panthera tigris, subspecies ‘Siberian Tiger’.
This is the final part of your order. Your order is now complete.
*
Your Andromeda.gal.ax order #ZZ9-ZZZ-D
Update
Hello Mr N A Rdole!
We have processed your requested refund for the following item:
Panthera tigris, subspecies ‘Siberian Tiger’.
Please teleport the item in unused condition to any depot in your nearest spiral arm within five working planetary rotations. Thank you.
*
Seven chickens belonging to the university chaplain disappeared mysteriously overnight. “They were shut in at night as usual and I padlocked their coop,” the Rev D. Thorne told us. “But in the morning they’d all gone. I had to have Rice Krispies instead of eggs for breakfast.” There was no sign of any break-in. Anyone with any information is asked to get in touch with campus security.
*
Dear Doctor,
This is the new list, awaiting your approval:
A packet of acid drops.
500ml mercury.
3 x azimuth sprockets.
A book on smashing the patriarchy.
Yours sincerely,
Nardole
N. Oooh, acid drops. Haven’t had those for centuries. Could you get me some too? D
*
Your Andromeda.gal.ax order #ZZ9-ZZZ-E
Delivery Update
Hello Mr N A Rdole!
We’re going to deliver your package today.
Thank you for updating your delivery preferences. We note that if you are not available when we attempt to deliver, we are to leave parcels only with members of the species Homo sapiens (‘human’). However we would like to point out that the species Gallus gallus domesticus (‘chicken’) not only shares sixty per cent of its DNA with Homo sapiens, its population also outnumbers the humans by almost three to one on planet Earth, so it was quite frankly a very easy mistake to make. Also, in our view, it was the responsibility of the chickens to have a clearly visible sign stating that they did not wish tigers to be teleported into their dwelling. However we have agreed to replace the chickens as a good-will gesture.
Delivery Information:
2 x Acid drops (220g).
This is the final part of your order. Your order is now complete.
*
The campus was terrorised last night by what witnesses have described as “seven robotic chickens with laser eyes and guns”. Lecturer in Almost Everything, the Doctor, whom several witnesses claimed they saw chasing the chickens, told our reporter, “Just go home and have a biscuit or whatever it is you humans like to get up to on a Wednesday night.” Our reporter tried to contact university chaplain Rev D. Thorne to see if there was any connection between the appearance of these avian automatons and the disappearance of his chickens a few days ago, but found only a slightly smoking hat just outside the hen run. The Doctor, who coincidentally had also come to visit the chaplain, shouted, “Nothing to see here!” as he backed out of the chaplaincy garden, adding, “Squawk, squawk, zap, squawk, I don’t know what you thought you heard but that was definitely me squawking just now.” Anyone with any information is asked to get in touch with campus security.
*
Your Andromeda.gal.ax order #ZZ9-ZZZ-E URGENT RECALL
Dear customer,
It has come to our attention that certain carbon-based life forms have been mistakenly supplied with Acid drops (200mg) containing sulphuric acid rather than citric acid. If this applies to you, please do not ingest any of the contents and return for a full refund. If you have already ingested the contents, please see the section ‘Accidental harm, mutilation, dismemberment or death liability disclaimer’ in our FAQ.
We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause.
*
Dear Doctor,
I am frankly quite sure she knew about the acid drops. She probably slipped them into the supply chain a couple of bodies back. I am also sure she knew that the tiger delivery would cause trouble and keep you distracted while she gets on with whatever she’s really up to. Here are the latest requests, for you to approve or DISAPPROVE:
Sherbet lemons.
A helmic regulator.
Yours sincerely,
Nardole
N. All approved. D
Sir, you did notice how I said ‘or DISAPPROVE’, didn’t you? N
N. I am capable of discerning nuance in the written word, yes. I don’t know what your problem is with sherbet lemons. D
Sir! A HELMIC REGULATOR! That means travel through the Time Vortex!
N. Not necessarily. Just something to do with time. I’m interested to see where she’s going with this. Just keep an eye on things. D
Dear Sir,
I have been trying to ‘keep an eye on things’, but this morning she told me that I had very pretty eyes and wouldn’t they make a nice pair of earrings, so perhaps I should keep them to myself for a while if I didn’t want to tempt a girl. Which I think might have been her way of hinting she didn’t want to be watched so much.
Yours in some considerable trepidation,
Nardole
Interesting. That suggests her plan is near to fruition. Let’s give her her head for a while, see where she’s going with this.
Dear Sir,
I note your suggestion to ‘give her her head for a while’, an expression which I see is related to loosening a horse’s reins. While fully appreciating your proposal, I would like to propose an alternative course of action, which is STOP HER STOP HER NOW WHATEVER SHE’S DOING PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU. I would also like to casually mention another Earth saying about horses, namely: ‘There’s no point shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted,’ and to make it extra clear I will point out that by ‘horse’ I mean ‘Missy’, and by ‘bolted’ I mean ‘destroyed this entire planet’.
Yours pleadingly,
Nardole
Nah, she’s not going to do that. Don’t panic. D
D. I wish I had your confidence. N
*
Dear Marie Antoinette
You are invited to join MADAM (Missy’s Army for the Demotion of All Men).
It shouldn’t be ‘let them eat cake’, it should be poison the cake and give it to your husband, take over as ruler of France, guillotine anyone who doesn’t like it. Simple.
RSVP
Your friend,
Missy
Dear Boudicca
You are invited to join MADAM (Missy’s Army for the Demotion of All Men).
Like your style. Have you ever heard of the AK-47? I can supply.
RSVP
Your friend,
Missy
Dear Messalina
You are invited to join MADAM (Missy’s Army for the Demotion of All Men).
You go girl! Hint: get a dog collar. Kinky and good for neck protection.
RSVP
Your friend,
Missy
Dear Eleanor of Aquitaine
You are invited to join MADAM (Missy’s Army for the Demotion of All Men).
Fab stuff with the Fair Rosamund and the cup of poison/dagger thing. I’m going to nick it. Hope you don’t mind. Of course if you do mind – I’ll offer you a choice …
RSVP
Your friend,
Missy
Dear Florence Nightingale
You are invited to join MADAM (Missy’s Army for the Demotion of All Men).
The Lady with the Lamp? Yawn yawn. Try the Lady with the Anti-Tank Missile. Or the Lady with the Grenade Launcher. And surely you’ve got access to some bio-weaponry? Scrape off a few smallpox scabs or something. Come on!
RSVP
Your friend,
Missy
*
Sir! This is most urgent! Acid! Mercury! Azimuth sprockets! And most obvious of all, sugar! Why didn’t we see it before? I don’t think I need to tell you how all those things combine with a helmic regulator – she has built a two-way space-time telegraph with time-scoop facility and is literally burning holes through the continuum! I’ve discovered she’s contacting women from throughout history and trying to get them to rebel – this morning I intercepted self-returning trans-temporal acceptances from Catherine the Great, Marie Curie, and all of Henry VIII’s wives! I recommend IMMEDIATE removal of all privileges.
Yours in even more worry than before,
Nardole
N. I think it’s important to know where she’s going with this. What her ultimate goal is. You’re obviously a keen student of human idiom; have you heard the expression ‘give her enough rope …’? D
Dear Sir, Is that the expression that goes ‘give her enough rope and she’ll tie you up, escape and probably destroy the universe’? N
N. Don’t be silly. D
*
Dear XX chromosome humans,
My name is Missy and I am much, much cleverer than you, but because I am also a woman at the moment, we have a bond. (A bond is apparently ‘a force or feeling that unites people’ and nothing to do with handcuffs. Sad face.)
It has come to my notice that being a woman isn’t just about the addition of some wobbly bits and a sudden inability to grow a goatee. Apparently throughout the history of this ludicrous rock (offence intended), the addition of a Y chromosome is bizarrely seen as somehow ‘better’. So we’re going to do something about it, poppets. First we get rid of the stinky old patriarchy in a few teeny-tiny bloody revolutions, then we take over the world. Okey-dokey, everyone? My general advice would be to kill all men, but I suppose it’s all right if you want to keep a few as pets. Or decorations. Or kitchen utensils.
Actually, second thoughts, probably not a lot of fun ruling the world if you don’t have anyone to lord it over. I’m imagining maybe a tournament, men versus gorillas, men versus sharks, men versus spiny anteaters. The winners get to survive, hurrah! Also they can do all the housework and bake cupcakes and it’ll be the law to tell them they’re rubbish at parking.
‘Why me?’ you’re probably asking. Well, mainly it’s because I’ve read about you in a book. Yes, you end up in books, there’s no need to get big-headed about it. But you’re either already delightfully violent or in positions close to power, so I’ve chosen you as my little team, yay! Further instructions to follow.
Love and snogs,
Missy
PS. Babies. I understand that for some unfathomable reason, on this planet women grow sprogs inside of them and then just pop them out one day, along with half their internal organs and a bucket of slime. This is a ridiculous system. Change it.
*
Dear Doctor,
You really need to read the attached. She’s advocating mass murder! Androcide! Or slavery, or something! What if some of these women take her up on the idea? The whole of history could be changed!
Yours close to panic,
Nardole
N. Oh, she’s just messing with them. There’s almost no chance of any permanent damage to the time lines. D
Dear Sir, there’s almost no chance of anyone being killed by a tortoise dropped by an eagle, but you try telling that to the playwright Aeschylus. N
N. We don’t talk about Aeschylus. Look, I tried to save him. I dressed up as a soothsayer and did all this ‘Beware falling objects’ business, but he got it into his head that meant he’d only be safe outdoors, and before I could convince him otherwise, the tortoise had landed. D
It seems there are various annoying things that men say to women a lot. Some of these have been said to me. I have, of course, instantly vaporised the sillies, but you may prefer the subtler approach. Here are some ideas of how to respond if they are said to you.
IDIOTIC MAN SAYS: ‘You’d be prettier if you smiled.’
RESPONSE: Ask him if he’s heard of a ‘Glasgow smile’. Produce your cut-throat razor. Demonstrate the Glasgow smile. Tell him he’s now much prettier. Maybe sprinkle some glitter around just to make sure.
IDIOTIC MAN SAYS: ‘You must be a witch.’
RESPONSE: Summon a demonic entity. While he’s distracted by the demonic entity, burn him at the stake. Don’t forget the marshmallows.
IDIOTIC MAN SAYS: ‘I thought you were on a diet.’
RESPONSE: Stuff seven chocolate cakes down his throat, a Mars Bar up each nostril, turn his intestines into spaghetti, make spaghetti carbonara, eat.
IDIOTIC MAN SAYS: ‘Calm down, dear.’
RESPONSE: Stay calm. Stab him.
*
Sir, this stuff is still very murdery. N
N. Keep watching. We need to know her exact plan. No one will get murdered. D
Sir, I hate to disagree with you, but we’re talking about a person who has turned entire planets into fireballs just to get enough light to put on her eyeshadow. N
N. She’s changing her ways. D
D. I wish I was as sure of that as you are. N
*
At various points in your history, women have been forbidden to do certain things. Here is some advice if you find yourself in any of these situations.
TOP TEN THINGS WOMEN AREN’T ALLOWED TO DO AND WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT:
1. VOTE
Solution: Get a very short pencil and put a cross next to the candidate’s name. I’m sorry, that should have read, get a very short pencil and use a crossbow to fire it at the candidate’s brain. Tip: aim for the eyeball. It’ll go right through. Squidgy jelly fun.
2. JOIN A GOLF CLUB
Solution: Select a 9 iron. Then insert it (see diagram 43).
3. BECOME POPE
Solution: Become Pope anyway. Oh, all right, you can disguise yourself as a man if you like. Just don’t give it away by giving birth during a procession (I’m looking at you, Joan). Maybe do some stabbing as well, just in case.
4. GET ON A BOAT
Solution: Apparently it’s unlucky. Prove those sexist sailors right by blowing them all away with a machine gun.
5. SUCCEED A PARENT AS MONARCH IF THERE ARE ANY MALE HEIRS
Solution: Slaughter all male heirs. Slaughter the monarch before he can have any more male heirs. Become monarch.
6. RIDE A BICYCLE
Solution: Get two men. Tie their hands to their ankles. Join with a bicycle chain. Stick a saddle on one and handlebars on the other. Cycle merrily away. Don’t forget to ring your bell!
7. DIVORCE THEIR HUSBAND
Solution: Oh, honey, why would you even contemplate divorce in the first place when there’s arsenic in the world? Strychnine’s good too, they make really funny faces and a sort of ‘bleerughaargheeek’ noise.
8. OWN PROPERTY
Solution: Someone or other once said that all property is theft. So steal the property. Then kill whoever thought it wasn’t your property in the first place.
9. COMPETE IN OR WATCH THE OLYMPICS
Solution: Set up your own games. Make them sound really super sexy. Let the men beg to be allowed to watch. Let them in. Then let those javelins fly!
10. ACT IN THE THEATRE
Solution: Thank your lucky stars, girlies. Who’d be an actor?
*
Sir!
This morning I intercepted an order for 47 extra-smartphones, each to be sent to a different part of Earth’s history – Ancient Troy, the Wild West, fifteenth-century France. What’s she up to now?
I know you said to give her enough rope, but she’s turning history into some sort of temporal cat’s cradle!
Yours even more worried now, and if you recall, I was pretty worried already,
Nardole
N. I’m not stopping her just when it’s getting really interesting! I think the outlines of her plan are starting to appear. She’s never shown much interest in Earth’s history before. Well, there was the time that she pretended to be a French knight in order to prevent Magna Carta being signed. I don’t know why. I think mainly because she liked the beard. Ginger. Oh, and the time she tried to hijack a meeting of scientists that George Stephenson set up. I don’t know why. Something about making the Earth a powerbase. Didn’t make a lot of sense. Let’s not even start on the Atlantis muddle. So this sudden interest – it’s got to be going somewhere. Somewhere major. Probably connected with universal domination. You are my eyes and ears! Keep watching and listening. D
*
NAME: The Mistress
JOB: Sparkly happy good fairy at The Doctor’s Happy Happy Vault of Niceness
NICKNAME: Missy
OTHER NAMES: Professor Thascales, Colonel Masters, Reverend Magister, Sir Gilles Estram, Mister Saxon. Look, if I called myself ‘Reggie’ or ‘Dave’ the Doctor never even had the decency to suspect it was me. I used to go to a lot of trouble dressing myself up for him so is it so wrong to want some attention?
CURRENT CITY: Bristol. I have absolutely no plans to wipe it off the face of the Earth with a tactical nuclear strike and anyone who claims otherwise is a liar, liar, pants on fire.
RELATIONSHIP: I don’t even know what that is.
FAVOURITE QUOTE: ‘I only need two things. Your submission and your obedience to my will.’
LIFE EVENTS: Born, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Took over some bloke’s body, Died, Died, Died, Became a human, Stopped being a human, Died, Died, Became a woman, Ruled!
*
D. Now she’s set up an account on Spacebook! N
N. Could be interesting. By the way, thanks for the extra-smartphone. D
D. I haven’t sent you an extra-smartphone! It must be some sort of trap! N
N. Nope, definitely from you. D
*
Name Your Group: MADAM
Add Some People:
Joan of Arc
Lady Jane Grey
Agrippina the Younger
Annie Oakley
Pocahontas
Lady Godiva
Agatha Christie
Mata Hari
Elizabeth Tudor
Nell Gwyn
Helen of Troy
Mary, Queen of Scots
Mary Tudor
Lucretia Borgia
Grace O’Malley
(You can add more later)
Personalise your invitation with a note:
Let’s get down to business. We need to discuss how YOU can change the world. With a little help from your new BFF, Missy!
Select Privacy: Top Top Top Top Top Top Top Top Secret.
*
D. This looks like her next move. She’s sent out several batches of invitations, all to women. N
N. Can you get hold of one of those extra-smartphones for me? I think I need to supervise this personally. D
D. I’ve ordered one for you. Should arrive three hours ago. Ohhhhh, I see. N
N. Just thank your lucky stars I remembered I needed to ask you to order it for me. It could have turned out like the curling tongs/badger incident. D
I won’t mention Aeschylus again if you keep quiet about the curling tongs/badger incident. I still get nightmares. N
*
MISSY has started a conversation.
MISSY: Welcome, girlies! Let’s take over the world!
GRACE O’MALLEY: Sounds good to me!
MISSY: Now, I know killing men is something that we all like to do for fun, but because I have been told very definitely that it’s slightly naughty, my proposal is that we only kill men when it’s really, really necessary, like if they stand between us and the throne to a kingdom, or if they spill our pint. OK?
LUCRETIA BORGIA: Spoilsport.
JANE AUSTEN: I beg your pardon, Madam, but think I may have been added to this group in error. Indeed, I have no desire to kill a man, be he ever so proud, miserly, or deceitfully inclined to lie about his marital or financial prospects in a way that would cause much pain and injury to a dear friend or sister of mine.
MISSY: It’s a truth universally acknowledged that you need a kick up the backside, then.
JANE AUSTEN: I pray, do not turn such cruel words upon me.
MISSY: I’ll turn something on you all right.
JANE AUSTEN has left the group.
MISSY: Well. Anyone else want to wimp out like Miss Regency Knickers?
AGATHA CHRISTIE: I’m not really sure what I’m doing in this group.
MISSY: Oh, come on! You’ve probably bumped off more people than anyone else here, maybe Bloody Mary excepted, and I have to say, you do it in style. Not afraid to sign your name to it, either. That’s my kind of gal.
AGATHA CHRISTIE: But I only kill people in fiction!
MISSY: Fiction? What fun’s that? You need to get your hands dirty. Feel the blade slipping in, watch the cheeks turning blue …
AGATHA CHRISTIE: I think you need help.
MISSY: Well, of course I need help! I’m locked up in a vault! I can’t do it all myself. That’s the whole point of this group!
AGATHA CHRISTIE: This is obviously some sort of joke, but I don’t understand it. Goodbye, ladies.
AGATHA CHRISTIE has left the group.
MISSY: What a pair of wusses.
BOUDICCA: Put all men to the sword!
MISSY: That’s the spirit!
MESSALINA: I don’t want to kill all men. Not the pretty ones. Or the rich ones. Or the ones with really big muscles. And, you know, the ones with those gorj smooth chests that can be oiled up and you can run your hands all over …
MISSY: That’s all right, I’ve said we can keep a few. Anyway, it’s mainly kings and emperors we want to mash. Let’s start with Henry VIII.
CATHERINE PARR: My husband?
KATHERINE HOWARD: My husband, I think you’ll find.
ANNE OF CLEVES: It is I who am to be married to the English könig, Henry!
JANE SEYMOUR: I fear you are mistaken. Henry is my husband.
ANNE BOLEYN: As if! He’d never go for a little mouse like you!
CATHERINE OF ARAGON: Henry has had but one wife in all his days, and I am she.
MISSY: Well, I see you six have a lot to talk about. Let’s leave that for the moment. Let’s talk about methods instead.
LUCRETIA BORGIA: Poison. You can be hands off, also you can poison many men with a single draught.
MISSY: Like it, Lucy!
CIRCE has joined the group.
MISSY: Hang on, who are you?
CIRCE: I am Circe the enchantress.
MISSY: I didn’t invite you!
CIRCE: I am a daughter of the gods! I need no invitation! I go where I please!
MISSY: Right … and what do you think about men, then?
CIRCE: I use my magicks to enchant them and turn them into pigs.
MISSY: Pigs?
CIRCE: Yes. Look, here’s an anti-men joke. ‘Why can’t men get mad cow disease? Because all men are pigs!’
MARIE ANTOINETTE: Qu’est-ce que le ‘mad cow disease’?
CIRCE: OK, that one might have been a bit too modern. Try this one: ‘How do you get a sick pig to the hospital? In a hambulance!’
MISSY: What’s that got to do with men?
CIRCE: Oh, good point, I may have just moved on to general pig jokes there.
MISSY: Well, be quiet like a good girl and let me get on with my plan.
CIRCE: ‘Good girl’? Isn’t that a bit sexist?
MISSY: Oh, man up.
CIRCE: ‘Man up’? That’s a bit sexist too.
MISSY: Look, you stupid woman–
CIRCE: Sexist!
MISSY: Just grow a pair, will you?
CIRCE: Sooooooo sexist!
MISSY: Bitch.
CIRCE: Oh, now you’ve done it. Fellow women! Is this the person you want to help you in your struggle against an unequal world?
ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE: Thou doth say words unto us that I like not.
CALAMITY JANE: Ain’t no sister of mine!
NELL GWYN: Let’s go and form our own group, me ducks.
MISSY: Oh, sod off the lot of you, you ungrateful –
CIRCE: Oh, by the way, just make sure you press the little button on the back of your extra-smartphones when you go, OK? It’s marked ‘self-destruct memory wipe’, but don’t worry about that.
POPE JOAN and 16 others have left the group.
MISSY: They’ve all gone. Thanks for that.
CIRCE: Sorry, but you knew I’d have to foil your plan in the end.
MISSY: Really?
CIRCE: It took me a while to work out, but once I had – well, I couldn’t let it go ahead, could I?
MISSY: Some might say that was just a little bit presumptuous of you.
CIRCE: I noticed you contacted a lot of people from sixteenth-century England. All of Henry VIII’s wives. Lady Jane Grey and Mary Tudor – the poor Nine Day Queen and the Queen who deposed her. Mary, Queen of Scots, who lost her head when her cousin Elizabeth thought she might be plotting against her. And of course Elizabeth herself – Gloriana, the so-called Virgin Queen and, as I happen to know personally, the most significant woman of Tudor times. Now they’re all very notable women, but why such a cluster? That’s what I asked myself.
MISSY: Did you, poppet? Hurrah for you. And for goodness’ sake (notice I said ‘goodness’ there, because I am now very, very good and do things for the sake of goodness), change your name. It’s distracting me. I keep fancying a bacon sandwich.
Name “DOCTOR” is already taken.
Name “THEDOCTOR” is already taken.
Name “DRJOHNSMITH” is already taken.
Name “DOCTORWHO” is already taken.
Name “DOCTOR12” is already taken.
Name “DOCTOR???” is already taken.
Name “DRDISCO” is already taken.
Name “DRMYSTERIO” is already taken.
Name “OHTHISISRIDICULOUS” is already taken.
Name “THATWASN’TASUGGESTIONYOU STUPIDPIECEOFJUNK” is still available! Change name?
CIRCE: You’ll just have to put up with this one. I coped with all the Emil Keller / Kalid / Professor Yana stuff over the years.
MISSY: Oh, we did have a laugh, didn’t we?
CIRCE: I don’t remember laughing much.
MISSY: I did, though. Your face! I lived for that moment. Off with the wig and – Ha! The way your jaw dropped. I mean, I knew that sometimes you already knew it was me and you were just doing the face to please me. That was so sweet of you.
CIRCE: I am not sweet.
MISSY: Don’t be silly. All the times I could just eat you up! Crunch you with your celery! Actually, I have a theory about you and jelly babies, I’ll have to tell you about it some time.
CIRCE: ANYWAY. I was about to expose your plan.
MISSY: Yes, you were, weren’t you. I was looking forward to hearing what it was.
CIRCE: There had to be a reason why you included nearly all the Tudor women in your little gang. Some of them, after all, didn’t need your advice. Mary and Elizabeth were already female rulers in a man’s world. Then I thought about what came after the Tudors. The very next ruler after Elizabeth was James I. And do you know what James I did? He granted Royal Charters for various organisations – such as universities. One of those universities included the institution that later became St Luke’s – the very place where you are now incarcerated. So. No James I – no charter – no university – no St Luke’s – no vault. You were throwing stones into the Tudor puddle and hoping the Stuart dynasty splashed out of existence. Almost anything could have done it – one of the wives bumping off Henry, Bloody Mary burning a few more men here or there, James’s mum getting rid of Darnley before they’d done the dirty, Elizabeth deciding she wasn’t going to let some Scottish boy take over her throne. Only one of those things had to happen, and you’d go free. But you knew I’d be watching you.
MISSY: Well, most of the time it’s been the little hobgoblin with glasses, but yes, carry on.
CIRCE: You were clever, I’ll give you that. You did it in an openly sneaky way.
MISSY: Well, wasn’t I the clever-clogs. What does that mean exactly?
CIRCE: You asked for the components to make a space-time telegraph, slipping them in among other deliberately chosen bizarre requests so it wouldn’t seem blatant, but knowing I’d spot you. Which I did, long before Nardole, I’d like to point out for the record. Then you began your supposedly secret operation, again knowing I’d be fully aware of what you were doing. You were banking on me being so pleased I’d caught you out that I’d never spot what you were really up to. All the other historical women – Boudicca, Marie Curie, Helen of Troy – they were just window-dressing. Your first, last, and only goal was to prevent James I taking the throne of England so you could escape captivity.
MISSY: Oh, brilliant. Quite, quite brilliant. One of those little applauding hands pictures.
CIRCE: You forget how well I know you.
MISSY: Yes, oh yes! Oh Doctor, you know me better than I know myself! I fall at your feet in humble admiration! I have been caught out! My plan has been exposed! You are the biggest brainbox in the whole of Fairyland. I throw myself at your feet in supplication.
CIRCE: All right, there’s no need for all of that.
MISSY: But how can I resist when your giant brain is making me go all gooey and girlie?
CIRCE: Look, we’ll take apart the space-time telegraph and say no more about it.
MISSY: But I want to say some more! I want to say how your giant brain must be encased inside a BIG HEAD!
CIRCE: What?
MISSY: So full of yourself! And so full of doggy doo-doo. All that just to stop a university being built? There are a hundred easier ways I could have sorted that, and you wouldn’t have known a thing about it. But what difference would it have made anyway? You’d just have built this silly vault somewhere else. Plus – you know, I did agree to this. Obviously I’m not enjoying it. But if I really wanted to get out – *really* – then I’d be out. I think you know that deep in your little hearts.
CIRCE: So if that wasn’t your plan – what were you doing?
MISSY: My plan was exactly what I said it was. To help women.
CIRCE: In order to disrupt history.
MISSY: In order to make things better!
CIRCE: What, really?
MISSY: Yes, really! Look, I did a wee bit of reading, and it turns out that for most of the history of this planet, men have treated women a teensy bit badly. As a woman, I object to that, so I decided to help. I didn’t try to keep it secret from you, not even a little bit. Because I thought you’d *approve*!
CIRCE: You thought I’d approve of you telling women to stab men and turn their insides into spaghetti!
MISSY: YES! Telling them to turn on their oppressors! Isn’t that what you always do? I was trying to be like you!
MISSY: Are you still there?
MISSY: You’ve gone all quiet.
MISSY: Shall I sing a song to pass the time? Any requests? I do a mean Lulu impression. *We-e-eee-ee-ee-elll –*
CIRCE: You’re saying that not only did you feel empathy for certain humans, you wanted to help them, and you wanted to be like me?
MISSY: No, I didn’t say any of that.
CIRCE: You did, it’s still there on the screen.
MISSY: I was lying. It was the James I thing really.
CIRCE: I think, in your own way, you really were trying to do a good thing. You are changing.
MISSY: Wash that sassy mouth out! I just wanted some historical ladies to get all stabby-stabby on King James, then whoops! I’m out of the Vault, bye-bye Doctor and little bald hobgoblin man.
CIRCE: You wanted to right an injustice.
MISSY: Will you stop saying that! You’re giving me a headache. Anyway, my plan failed. Whichever one it was. Still stuck in the Vault, human history still rubbish to women.
CIRCE: There are other ways you can help get them justice.
MISSY: Not bleedin’ likely, guv’nor. Ungrateful lot! Throwing all my brilliant ideas back in my face! I’m 100% done with human women. Hate the lot of them. Hope they all use lead-based make-up and die. Next time I’ll pick someone else to help.
CIRCE: Aha!
MISSY: Not that I’m saying there’ll be a next time. Or that I was trying to help anyone in the first place.
CIRCE: So why were there so many Tudors on your list?
MISSY: Just because I read a good book on them. Books are good. You should read a book sometimes. You might learn something. Plus there was a lot of burning and beheading. Enough to make any girl’s hearts flutter. Anyway, nice talking to you, Doctor. I have to go now, the hobgoblin has brought me a cup of tea and I need to dunk things in it.
MISSY has left the conversation.
*
Dear Doctor,
These are the things she’s asked for this week:
1 x pair of time tweezers.
A book on what intelligent species there are on this idiotic planet apart from humans.
1 x pack of chocolate garrottes.
Yours sincerely,
Nardole
N. Book is OK. I don’t think chocolate garrottes are a real thing. And what on Earth are time tweezers? D
D. Apparently if you pluck your eyebrows, they regrow backwards in time so you never have to do it again, but your past self might get a hairy chin or something ohhhhhh.
*
Your Andromeda.gal.ax order #ZZ9-ZZZ-F
Delivery Update
Hello Mr N A Rdole!
We’re going to deliver your package today.
Delivery Information:
‘Intelligent Life on Earth: Real or Myth?’ (jellyback) by X’c’zzEvnh.
This is the final part of your order. Your order is now complete.
*
Dear Rattus rattus 1
You are invited to join RAT (Rodents Against Terrans).
I can’t be doing with apes, they’re basically just extra-hairy humans, and I’m totally off the sea following a bad experience with some reptiles in the 1970s (or was it the 1980s?) so the dolphins are out too, which means the rats have won the lottery! You’re pretty much as intelligent as humans but do they treat you like you are? No! Rat traps! Rat poison! Lab rats! Rat baiting! Flushing you down the loo! Now, there’s at least one rat for every human on Earth, you can reproduce at a frankly embarrassing rate and your teeth grow five inches in a year, so things are stacked in your favour. You had a good try with plagues back in the day, but it’s time to take things to a new level. RATS RULE!
RSVP
Your friend,
Missy