by James Goss
Jo Jo Grant
Had a mouth like an “oh!”
And a life full of surprises.
Although she joined UNIT quite inchoate
She soon sailed on seas of giant maggots
She met ever so many savages,
Turned down simply heaps of marriages,
While stopping muddy worlds being colonised
She was very frequently hypnotised.
She was sacrificed at a syzygy,
Passed screaming through a singularity,
She didn’t once, despite the Doctor’s ego,
Reverse polarity of neutron flow.
She did enjoy Captain Yates’ romancing
Till he sadly took her Morris dancing.
She so adored the Brigadier’s moustache
Even when he talked such balderdash.
She stole the heart of a Draconian
And honeymooned upon the Amazon.
She parachuted from an icecano
And called her grandson Santiago.
For vile villains she never gave two figs
And laughed at those silly gnashing Drashigs.
At those weird fiendish experimenters
She just smiled on her many adventures.
(Though she never met a pterodactyl
To say other would be counterfactual)
A scream with laughs she’d sometimes intersperse
Because Jo Grant saw the whole universe.
Miss Jo Grant
Never said “shan’t”
That’s why she won all life’s prizes.
A GOOD MAN
Good men take the long way round,
It goes with the higher ground,
Keeping sacred noble vows,
And really searing eyebrows.
Good men should sound quite Scottish
Helps with being stand-offish
Suggests you’ll win any fight
Just by being profoundly right.
Good men should have a careful plan
Which they’ll (like this rhyme) ignore
They’re always ten moves ahead
Their feet most firmly planted.
Good men don’t plan their breakfast
In eggs and jam they’re reckless
But long ago they had a hunch
There’s no such thing as a free lunch.
Good men choose with whom to trifle
(No chance if you own that rifle)
They work hard, they don’t forget
And they don’t lose – well, not yet.
Good men never toss a pawn
They’d rather eat a Janis Thorn
What good’s that one true friend
If they’re not with you at the end?
Good men they don’t surrender
Even if the bill’s a spender.
Losing’s not a cost to swallow
They’ll be back tomorrow.
And tomorrow, tomorrow
And all the days that follow.
They’ll get you back, no mind the cost
Because to them a friend’s not lost.
Good men they take the long way round
It goes with all that higher ground.
THE GUIDE DOG
I like to let him cheat at chess
I love to answer No with Yes
My rules are simple and also true
Without doubt they’d apply to you.
I always answer Negative
Or perhaps Affirmative.
Why answer in one syllable?
Brevity is just risible.
Be governed by always being right
It affords your listeners quiet delight
If not, answer Negative
Or just perhaps Affirmative.
I will admit I’m no good at slopes
Sand, stairs and mud are just nopes.
I regret my lack of battery power
But a lot can be done in an hour.
It’s why I prefer Affirmative
To a bold cold solid Negative.
He forgives my failings with puddles
Because I sort out his frightful muddles
As our little song draws to an end
A robot dog’s always your best friend.
And that’s never Negative
It’s definitely Affirmative.
RASSILON WHY?
(after ‘Cottleston Pie’)
Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?
A man should die, but this man shan’t die
Ask me a riddle and I’ll reply
Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?
Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?
Gallifrey rises and so do I
Ask me a riddle and I’ll reply
Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?
Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?
Immortality’s a curse, I don’t know why
Ask me a riddle and I’ll reply
Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?
Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?
There’s one rule for you, and one for me
I wouldn’t want us to disagree
Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon Why?
YETI SONG
Sing Ho! For the life of a Yeti!
Sing Ho! You’re jealous I bet-ty!
I don’t much mind if the world disappears
Cos my furry belly is full of spheres
Telling me to obey, obey, obey
I don’t much care if it snows or thaws
Cos I’ve such a lot of blood on my lovely paws!
Slashing and maiming, slaughtering my way.
Sing Ho! For the life of a Yeti!
Sing Ho! You’re jealous I bet-ty!
Now everyone’s dead I’m coming for you!
COOL THING
I do so like my lovely tie,
You’re jealous. Ask me why?
It’s a bow bow tie
That’s just why
A red bow tie.
It has a shape
That is clever
It folds in
On itself
& Out forever
A Möbius loop
For a nincompoop
I’ll confess to be sly
Bows are tricky to tie.
The start and ending are nigh
I do so like my lovely tie.
GAMES
I am so very terribly good at games
It doesn’t help that I’m bad at names
But sit down stranger, let’s draw out the board
And see our eternal chess game scored.
Where were we? You pick’d black and I took white
And settled in for an age-old fight
We battled from Silk Road to Araby
And, dear sir, you always return to me.
Sometimes I take your pieces, you take mine
It’s no hardship, the game is fine.
As the ages fall, our contest continual
Glaciers creep and mountains fall.
There’s no ending but mine, Time Lord
You say you’re thinking, I say you’re bored.
One day I’ll win, and then you’ll see –
What playing a friend means to me.
Your move, dear sir, your move.
ABSENCES
(after ‘Before Tea’)
Miss Clara
Has not been seen
For more than a week. She slipped inside
The stationery cupboard. Surely not to hide?
We all went looking for her. Miss Clara?
Where are yer?
Miss? Miss?
What is this?
We’ve got big exams at the end of term
If you go missing then how can we learn?
Also, the Head’s cross. You’ve gone too far, Miss.
Miss Clara
Slipped back in the
Middle of a lesson. “Now, where were we?”
“Where were you?!?” “What’s the hurry?
&nb
sp; I’ve been in space, met Ghandi for curry,
Saved the human race, s’okay don’t worry
And no, don’t thank me.”
Oh Miss Clara
Miss, this time
You’ve gone too far-er.
POSSIBILIES
(after ‘Cherry Stones’)
Tinker, Tailor
Soldier, Sailor
Rich Man, Poor Man
Beggarman, Thief
These are the many lives to see
In the stones of my sweet cherry tree.
But what about a Physicist,
Thinker, Slayer
Eternal Sailor
Gell Guard,
Or Nano Biologist?
What about the Vanir or a Tharil at the Gate?
What about a Malin or Giant Spider’s Mate?
What about a Policeman looking in the junkyard?
Or the circumlocuting, prosecuting Valeyard?
What about a Vervoid voiding Thrematologist?
Or an ever over-eager radiation physicist?
What about a blood-thirsty Lord High Priestess
Or a pluckily unlucky air hostess?
Don’t forget a fiddler with rat genetics
Or an emotionless abuser of cybernetics
There are more lives to see
Than there are stones on Metebelis Three
RICE PUDDING
Unlimited rice pudding, temporal ghosts
Bus stations, cruelty and burnt toast
These are the things I don’t like the most.
Fascism, idiocy, a waffling bore
Old gods, sideways villains, the Earth’s core
These are things I find terrible chores.
Recursive occlusions, rips in Time’s skin,
Lost luggage, cold porridge, worlds wearing thin
These are all the things I declare grim.
Liquorice, apricots, opening night,
Sudden triumph, old friends, a fair fight
These are things in which I take delight.
HAVE YOU SEEN . . . . ?
Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?
She’s let her whole family down
She said she was off backpacking
Seems she was a victim of bizarre kidnapping.
Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?
Her mother (it’s said) has begun to frown
(Quite ruining her surgeon’s reknown).
She’d a university place
Instead she’s larking off in space!
Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?
You know I’ve heard she’s run off with a
clown
Who calls himself by a proper noun!
Her step-dad he is so distraught
He’s searching the docks till she’s caught.
Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?
She nearly died stopping a mutant drown,
I know, poor girl, such a letdown!
But she’d planned for a botanist
Not a career, yet she would insist.
Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?
By now she should be living downtown
Not stopping nuclear meltdown
Or saving us from a fireball
Noble I know, but is that all?
Whatever became of Perpugilliam Brown?
Not to gossip, but it’s all over town
She’s set her cap at a man with a crown!
What was wrong with an accountant?
Not some alien militant!
Breeding will out, it’s always shown.
Well, look what became of Perpugilliam Brown!
NEXT EPISODE
“Kill them! Kill them now!”
Well yes, but how?
Is it with a gun?
(There’s always one!)
What about a flute?
(That would be a hoot)
Push me in a pit!
(Are you sure I’ll fit?)
Here’s my robot twin!
(Where shall I begin?)
Offer me to god?
(That’s a little odd)
Throw me into space?
(I’ll keep a straight face)
Turn me into stone?
(That one’s not unknown)
Restart the big bang?
(Ooh, that’s quite the thang)
Shrink me into dust?
(Well now, if you must)
Call for the Daleks?
(Won’t see me for parsecs)
Turn me to compost?
(Well now, I’m engrossed)
Tell them my real name?
(The internet’s aflame)
Ah, a fit of pique?
(I’ll be back next week)
See, no matter how
You say “Kill them now!”
I assure you, friend
It won’t be MY end.
HARRIET JONES, PM
(after ‘Journey’s End’)
“Don’t you think she looks tired?”
Do forgive me, I’m rather wired!
Earth’s in danger, then? Again?
Send for Harriet Jones, PM!
This world we shall defend
My poor alien friends.
Fear my network subwave
Earth from you I’ll save!
From cottage hospitals,
And nasty windbag fools,
Even alien blackmail.
I’ve saved us without fail.
Daleks, please have no doubt
I’ll gladly sort you out.
Now, before it all turns sour
This’ll be my finest hour.
Harriet Jones, PM out.
FRIEND SHIP
Susan, Barbara and Ian
Vicki, Dodo and Steven.
Ben, Polly, Jamie
Victoria and Zoe.
Liz, Jo and Sarah
Harry, Brig and Leela.
Romanadvoratrelundar
And K-9 (the dog wonder).
Adric, Nyssa, Tegan
Turlough and Kamelion.
Peri and Melanie
Ace (aka Dorothy).
Rose, Jack and Jackie
Martha, (horse) and Mickey.
Donna, Donna, Donnaaaa!
(Never forgetting her)
Amy, Winston, Rory
River (that’s another story).
Clara, Oswin, Clara
Oswald, Osgoods, Clara.
(Also, Clara, Clara, and more Clara
Never got the end of that palaver)
Then Nardole, Bill and River too
And,
MOST IMPORTANTLY
There’s
YOU.
AFTERWORDS
Sunset came to the Thousand Year Wood. It had been
a lovely long day, and, although Figment hadn’t yet met
the mysterious Officer Sandcars, he’d had such a lot of
interesting adventures along the way.
“Maybe my call was just not urgent,” he thought
philosophically to himself. “Exciting as new friends no
doubt are,” said Figment, “there’s something even better
about spending time with old ones.”
He waved goodbye to his friends Whoot and Bigger,
marvelling that they had, after all, caught a Gallifrump.
He wondered if it would still be there tomorrow. Perhaps
not. Ah well. Never mind. They could always catch it again.
His footsteps took him back in the direction of the strange
blue tree. Only it wasn’t where he had left it. Things never
were, not in Figment’s life. Why, often he had trouble
finding his house. But he carried on, not worried by the
darkening sky, or the gathering cold, just looking and
looking for the square blue tree and humming the little
hum that the tree had taught him.
Truth to tell, he spent a little bit longer looking for i
t than
he should have. Figment suddenly realised that it was
quite dark and, as he’d given the Gallifrump his mittens,
his fingers were very cold. In the distance the NightWolves
were starting to call to each other, singing their song about
how much they liked eating Figments.
“Oh dear,” said Figment, feeling very worried.
He ran on, hoping that his footsteps were taking him home.
But they were not. He was in a darkly dark bit of
the Thousand Year Wood. And he could tell that the
NightWolves were ever so close now.
“I am a very silly Figment,” said Figment crossly to himself.
Which was when he turned a corner.
Now, he should have realised that something was Up, as,
strictly speaking, forests do not have corners. But turn a
corner he did, and then he realised that all was well.
For standing right there was the strange blue tree, looking
all new and bright.
Better still, there was snow in the night sky.
Leaning against the blue tree was that best thing of all, the
oldest of old friends.
“Jonathan Smith, you’ve come back to the Thousand Year
Wood!” Figment cried. As he said the words, he felt a little
shiver inside. He was so pleased to see his friend, but also
worried – because sometimes the arrival of Jonathan Smith
meant an end, not a beginning.
Figment looked fearfully up at Jonathan Smith.
And Jonathan Smith smiled and Figment knew that it was
all going to be much more than all right.
“You called?” said Jonathan Smith with a smile as warm as
a Christmas fireplace. “Shall we go?”
“But where?” said Figment, his little hearts giddy.
“Oh, somewhere,” said Jonathan Smith. “Eventually.”
*
So away they went somewhere – but whenever they go and
whatever happens to them along the way, that was only
their beginning.
In the magical heart of the Thousand Year Wood, upon the
footsteps of Figment and his oldest friend, it will always,
always be snowing.
A Post-Script