Doctor How and the Illegal Aliens: Book 1: The Doctor Who Is Not a Time Lord by Mark Speed

Doctor How and the Illegal Aliens: Book 1: The Doctor Who Is Not a Time Lord by Mark Speed

Author:Mark Speed [Speed, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Humor & Satire, Humorous, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Time Travel, General Humor, TV; Movie; Video Game Adaptations, Doctor Who
Amazon: B00IWC40JK
Publisher: Terra Supra Limited
Published: 2014-03-08T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Nine

It took them two hours to get back to Dagenham. To the Doctor’s great irritation, Kevin and Ware insisted on stopping for fast food and eating it in the cab. Whilst his companions sat and ate, he’d gone in search of something healthier, returning with an apple, a banana and some raw nuts. This dietary choice was a source of more mirth for his cousin. Despite complaints about the chill from Kevin, the Doctor insisted on keeping the window open for the rest of the journey. He said it was to get rid of the smell of the fried food, but Kevin suspected it might be punishment.

“I shall have to have this suit dry cleaned,” he said.

Ware caught Kevin’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “He’s got worse. You know that clobber he’s wearing is all-singing, all-dancing and resistant to everything, don’t you?” Kevin nodded. “Smells don’t stick to it either. Tell me, does he still insist on the UV bath when you come in his house, and then make you wash your hands?”

Kevin shot an embarrassed glance at the Doctor before replying. “Yeah.”

“Flippin’ ’eck. It’s not like he’s vulnerable to any of the stuff you people carry. It’s just the thought of it drives him crazy.”

“You can never be too careful,” muttered the Doctor.

“He’s a real catastrophiser,” said Ware, catching Kevin’s eye in the mirror again. “A bit of a drama queen. The sky’s always about to fall in.”

“I’m conscientious, and always on alert. There’s a difference.”

“Hyper-vigilance and paranoia. That’s another symptom of mental ill-health. He was the one who could never relax. Well, him and… rhymes with Scooby-Doo.”

“Who is simply deranged,” spat the Doctor.

“You are.”

“No, it was a statement, not a question.”

“Gotcha, Pete!”

“Oh, ha-bloody-ha.”

They turned the final corner into the road where Ware lived. “Home, sweet home,” he said.

“Not what your neighbours think,” said the Doctor.

“Leave it out. You don’t really get rich just because your house goes up in value. You have to live somewhere, don’t you?”

“An extra twenty-thousand pounds would have helped your elderly neighbour’s relatives pay her care-home bill.”

Ware shook his head. “She had ample money to pay for as much care as she needed. What her relatives were really complaining about was the fact that there was twenty grand less for them to blow on new cars or holidays.”

“Be that as it may, you might at least show some consideration by spending a small sum on tidying up your own house. I certainly can’t believe you’re struggling for money.”

Ware pulled into the driveway of his house. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to the Doctor. “Right, I want no nagging in me own house. You ain’t me mother.”

“But I do care, Dave.”

“I know. I know.”

The three of them got out, and Ware made for his front door. Doctor How walked the few steps back to the road, and put his right hand on the badge over the radiator grill of the old cab that was sitting there – Where’s Spectrel. Ware stopped on his front step and turned to look at his cousin.



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