EARTH. LONDON. THE POWER ESTATE. 7:30
The alarm buzzed and Emma rose out of
bed feeling very grumpy. Even grumpier
than yesterday, though to be fair today
was a work day. Emma worked at Madame’s
Waxworks, and she hated the boredom of
her job and she longed for adventure.
About two hours and a lot of make-up
later Emma Moffat was finally at work.
It wasn’t long before the irritating
sound of the ignorant tourist scraped on
‘’Scuse me miss. ‘Scuse me,’ piped the
voice behind Emma. It belonged to a tall
thin woman holding a camera in one hand
and Brad Pitt in the other. ‘Would you
mind taking a shot, Luv?’
‘Of course not,’ Emma replied with the
most insincere smile she could muster.
‘You’d make a lovely couple!’
‘Who – me and Brad?’ she chuckled as her
‘No – you and a lump of brainless
plastic,’ she thought, rather than said.
Emma walked away and took a few deep
breaths. She was feeling particularly
irritable today and she felt if she had
one more request from any irritating
tourists she would become violent.
‘Where’s Robbie Williams gone?’ a female
‘Oh he’s just over th…’ Emma turned to
see that the Robbie Williams waxwork was
no longer there. ‘He was there last
night I’m sure.’
‘Maybe he just walked out of here!’ the
woman replied, laughing wholeheartedly
at her own joke.
‘He should be so lucky,’ groaned Emma.
‘No, that’s Kylie!’ said a chipper young
man. ‘Haven’t seen her have you? I’d
love to have my picture with my hands on
Kylie’s...’ - Emma screamed.
THE CABINET ROOM, 10 DOWNING STREET
‘Mwah! Mwah! Ha-ha- haaaaaa!’ Cried the
Master. ‘Ha-ha-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Mw-‘ -
*cough* ‘Do you think we can just start?
Sir?’ interrupted the Defence Minister.
The Master adjusted his cape, raised an
eyebrow and regained his composure.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen of the Cabinet -
the Archangel Satellite is working
perfectly!’ The Master announced, his
voice triumphant. ‘Oh brill!’ the
Secretary for Road Bumps and Speed
Cameras retorted. ‘That means we can get
the Manchester United match.’ ‘The
satellite is for my Masterful Plan of
Master Planning. Imbecile! Not for
football broadcasts.’ ‘Do you think Alex
Ferguson gets ‘bored’ meetings like
this?’ laughed the Minister for Jaguar
Cars and Punching Hecklers.
Everyone except the Master burst out in
laughter at the joke. One of them even
farted. ‘Next time, I’ll just have to
remember to gas them at the outset.’
moaned the Master.
MADAME TUSSAUDS, AFTER CLOSING
‘Wilson? Wilson?’ shouted Emma. She’d
forgotten to hand in the bingo money to
Mr Wilson, and if Tilly found out she’d
handed it in late again she’d have a
right go at her. She’d have her guts for
garters, though maybe she wasn’t that
vicious. She suddenly heard a scraping
noise behind her and a door opened. It
was the Prime Minister, Mr Saxon. Emma
jumped onto one of the platforms and
stood very still. Just like a waxwork,
‘This will be my army!’ the Master said
to a small container he held in front of
him. He opened the lid and inside was a
red gelatinous fluid twisting around.
The Master had shrunk down a Nestene
Consciousness and had it held to his
mercy. With it he could control almost
any plastic on the planet. He pointed
towards Emma and started to talk to the
‘Here – make this waxwork move!’ he
said, pointing to Emma. Nothing
happened. ‘That one there!’ he
clarified. ‘The frumpy one.’ Emma
‘Bloody marvellous! I go to the extremes
of hijacking the voting British public
and take office, then I get control of a
Nestene to decimate the country with
dummies (even though that is so 70’s),
and all it can do is make a frumpy
‘Oi!’ Emma shouted back. ‘Just ‘cos you
are the Prime Minister of Britain
doesn’t mean you can call me frumpy, Mr-Oh-What-A-Camp-Robe-I-Have-Saxon!’
‘I’m not camp!’
Suddenly the waxworks lurched forward.
They fixed their gaze on Emma and
started to close in. She was frozen with
fear and all she could hear was the
sound of the Master’s laughter as the
waxworks reached out towards her.
‘Run!’ a voice said as someone grabbed
Emma’s hand. She barely had time to
register who he was before she was
pulled to safety. The man was dressed in
a vaguely Edwardian manner, and he had
long black hair and a rubbery type of
face. They managed to hide in a
‘We’ll be safe for now,’ the man said to
Emma. ‘I’m the Doctor by the way. What’s
your name?’ ‘Miss Bloody Furious!’
replied Emma. The Doctor frowned. ‘Funny
name – you don’t come from the planet
Literal Prime do you?’
Suddenly, the waxwork of Christina
Aguilera broke through the door and
grabbed the Doctor by his neck. Emma
grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall
and knocked her head off, causing
Christina to collapse to the floor.
‘Always wanted to do that!’ she said.
The Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to
disable the remainder of the waxwork
Auton. Emma and the Doctor escaped.
‘So what was all that about?’ asked
Emma. ‘Harold Saxon is really an alien
called the Master,’ the Doctor
explained, ‘and he plans to take over
the world by controlling waxworks. It’s
a devious plan – one day you wake up and
David Beckham is at the door. Seconds
later, you are dead.’ explained the
Doctor. ‘Wouldn’t be a bad way to go,’
considered Emma. ‘Unless Posh was with
Emma stirred the coffee she made.
‘So, Doctor, are you human?’ ‘I’ll
explain later,’ the Doctor said. He
stood up and brushed his coat with his
hands, dropping Rich Tea crumbs on the
floor. He said he had to go. ‘Where are
you off to?’ ’10 Downing Street. I have
to stop the Master.’ ‘I’m coming with
you,’ said Emma, not giving the Doctor
any time to protest.
THE CABINET ROOM, 10 DOWNING STREET
‘Every single time I make a Master Plan,
the Doctor arrives and tries to stop me.
Blast him!’ moaned the Master. ‘Who is
this mysterious Doctor?’ asked the
Secretary for Red Tape and Pointless
Targets. ‘My greatest enemy!’ whispered
the Master hoping for, but falling short
of, theatrical effect. ‘We went to
school together. He was a right pain
then too.’ ‘What does he look like?’
asked the Secretary for Stealth Taxes.
‘About so high – long dark hair. Big
rubbery nose. Dressed like a –‘ The
Doctor was standing in front of him,
held by a waxwork. He had been caught.
‘Just like that!’ ‘I’m transferring
control to the Valiant!’ the Master
announced to the cabinet. ‘And I am
disbanding the Government. Mwah! Mwah!
The Master turned around and left for
the transmat that would take him and the
Doctor to the Valiant. When the Master
and his new captive left the room
flooded with gas. Not a booby trap set
up by the Master, but a whole bunch of
farts that could not be suppressed any
‘Time for the crash landing,’ the
Minister for Rules and Paperwork
announced. He unzipped a zip on his
forehead and his skin was pushed to the
floor. Others followed suit. From behind
a closed door Emma could see the
Slitheen were revealed at last.
THE VALIANT, HIGH ABOVE BRITAIN
‘Small spacecraft en route to crash land
in the Thames, Sir, knocking into Big
Ben along the way,’ warned one of the
Valiant pilots. The Master straightened
his cape and studied the tactical
screen. ‘Have you tried talking to the
interloper?’ ‘He keeps on saying
something like ‘Oink! Oink!’ but our
translation programme is having trouble
interpreting it. Must be a really
complicated alien language.’ The Master
rolled his eyes. ‘Destroy it!’ he
ordered, and within seconds it was just
space dust. The Master turned to see his
old enemy – literally his Old Enemy. The
Master had used his own laser
screwdriver to age the Doctor some 900
years. He was small, wizened and looking
just a bit like a... a house elf.
‘You are now at my mercy, Doctor. All
you can do is sit there and watch me!
Mwah-ha-haaaaa!’ ‘I’d much rather be
here sitting on my bottom than standing
there talking out of it,’ retorted the
Doctor. ‘How did you manage to age me
anyway? I thought you needed some of my
DNA to do that.’ It’s a bad habit you
have Doctor – picking your nose. Though
with one that big I suppose you can’t
miss it,’ the Master said triumphantly.
‘Still – you’ve been cut down to size a
bit now.’ ‘At least I’m short in stature
rather than intellect!’ countered the
Doctor. The Master was furious. ‘Plus at
least I don’t look camp.’ ‘I don’t look
camp!’ The Master tried to assert. ‘Oh
yes you do!’ clarified the Doctor. ‘You
are more camp than a whole field of
campers all dancing around the campfire
and singing ‘Camping Days are Here
Again!’ The Master’s face was like
10 DOWNING STREET
Inside the cabinet offices, Emma had
been discovered by the Slitheen and was
about to be executed.
'Wait!’ pleaded Emma. ‘My husband will
kill you for it!’ ‘Your husband?’ asked
Clon Blosh Fon Slitheen. ‘Mr Saxon. And
don’t dare use me as a bargaining tool
either! That would really annoy him!’
‘We could use her as a bargaining tool,’
suggested Zon Mosh Con Slitheen.
‘Brilliant! Although our plan to cause a
military coup by crashing a decoy ship
has been foiled we can still rule this
miserable planet. We must storm the
bridge of the Valiant and destroy Mr
Saxon! We will take his wife with us!’
Emma smiled. 'They may be tall, green,
powerful and emit more methane than the
combined power stations of a small
European country, but at least they are
thick', she thought. They must be male.
The Slitheen materialised on the bridge
of the Valiant. Emma had been
transported up too. She saw that the
Doctor has been aged by the Master.
Waxworks adorned the area – Autons
acting as the Master’s bodyguards.
‘Stop Saxon, or we will kill your wife!’
threatened Clon Blosh Fon. ‘Kill her
then! She isn’t my wife!’ Emma had seen
the Nestene Consciousness container near
her and sneaked it behind her back.
‘Clever bluff, my dear darling,’ said
Emma. ‘But they might fall for that
obvious deceit.’ The Slitheen backed off
and panicked to think of a contingency
‘Chaaaaarge!’ Zon Mosh Con shouted and
lunged towards the Master. The Master
used his laser screwdriver on the
Slitheen making the alien younger until
he became an egg. He did the same with
Clon Blosh Fon too. Emma poured the
Nestene Consciousness into a coffee cup
during the confusion knowing the Master
would soon find the container in her
possession. The Master rounded on her.
‘So you are the Doctor’s latest
companion! I hope this one lasts longer
than Adric!’ ‘I hope this one’s less
annoying than Adric,’ commented the
‘Doctor! What have they done to you?’
Emma asked as she ran over to him. She
dropped the container on the floor. The
Master picked it up. ‘Ha! Your plan to
sneak the Nestene away has failed! I can
now order the Auton rampage to begin.
Nothing can stop me now!’ ‘Thirsty work,
megalomania,’ Emma suggested. ‘Yes,’
replied the Master, ‘but oh so
rewarding!’ He took a swig of his
coffee... ‘WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?’
The Auton waxworks collapsed to the
floor as the Master digested the Nestene,
‘Emma – the laser screwdriver! Pass it
to me,’ the Doctor asked. Emma passed
him the device and the Doctor reversed
his ageing. ‘Foiled again!’ cried the
Master. He ran over to a grandfather
clock in the corner. It was his TARDIS.
It faded from existence leaving Emma and
the Doctor behind.‘Thank you Emma,’ the
Doctor said. ‘We should switch the
Valiant off and return to Earth. The
Master’s plan has failed, the Earth is
safe, and Madame’s Tussauds will be
forced to close. Good news all round!’
THE STREETS OF LONDON
‘So that’s your space machine?’ Emma
asked the Doctor. They stood next to a
battered old Police Box. ‘Yes!’ The
Doctor replied, stroking the TARDIS
affectionately. ‘It may look like a
small battered relic of England’s past
on the outside, but on the inside it a
huge battered relic of Gallifrey’s past.
Did I mention it also travels in time?’
Emma smiled and joined the Doctor on his
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