The Writers' Block

Doctor Who “The Eleventh Hour”: Deleted Scene

April 1, 2010
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EXT. AMY POND’S GARDEN – DAY

The Doctor stands before the TARDIS, his body bristling with anticipation…

DOCTOR: Okay… What have you got for me this time…?

He takes a breath and then –

INT. TARDIS CONSOLE ROOM – DAY

– the Doctor steps inside.

And it is beautiful. Awesomely, breathtakingly beautiful. The love child of Jules Verne and Willy Wonka.

And as he goes to walk in further –

A hand grabs his with a sudden urgency and he looks around to see –

The 9TH DOCTOR – standing there – all pent up energy and dressed down style.

9TH DOCTOR: (grins) Run!

DOCTOR: What?

9TH DOCTOR: Legs working alright now are they?

DOCTOR: Yes, I suppose they are…

9TH DOCTOR: Then RUN!

And they run, the 9th Doctor almost dragging his bewildered later model up the ramp.

DOCTOR: Look, if this is some kind of a Time War thing I’m pretty sure we’re done with that now you know.

They reach the Console platform, the 9th now letting go and turning round, taking a moment to really take in the newcomer’s appearance.

Meanwhile the Doctor surveys his new Console…

DOCTOR: Blimey…

9TH DOCTOR: I’ll say. It’s like watching Bambi on ice.

DOCTOR: What?

The Doctor looks down at his awkward new stance. Tries to readjust himself without much luck.

9TH DOCTOR: Nah, I’m just kidding. You’ll grow into it trust me. What matters is you’re here and that’s fantastic. ‘Cause it means we’re gonna go.

DOCTOR: Ah, no, actually I just got here.

9TH DOCTOR: Good, and that’s where you’re staying. Your Tardis, your timeline. We’re the ones who are going.

DOCTOR: We?

The 9th Doctor stands by the Console, calling out –

9TH DOCTOR: Oi! You lot! Time to go!

The Doctor remains transfixed by the beauty of the Console, runs his hand across the surface…

DOCTOR: (soft) Wow…

An elegant voice gently rasps from behind the Console base at his feet –

3RD DOCTOR (O.S.): Do try not to break it this time won’t you, there’s a good fellow.

– and the 3RD DOCTOR gets to his feet, Sonic Screwdriver in hand, protective shaded goggles up over his head – looking like the world’s most stylish mechanic.

3RD DOCTOR: Last chap caused an absolute mess with the architectural configuration.

9TH DOCTOR: He means the desktop theme.

3RD DOCTOR: Look here, I really don’t see the point in inventing pseudo science terminology as a substitution for scientific fact. I mean the architectural configuration.

9TH DOCTOR: Oh yeah? And how’d you fix this “architectural configuration” anyway then?

3RD DOCTOR: I simply –

The 9th Doctor stands behind the 3rd as he speaks, now mouthing the words in unison –

3RD DOCTOR: – reversed the polarity of the neutron flow…

9TH DOCTOR: Fantastic. Proper science that. Teach that to kids in school they will, mark my words. Right then, where’s the others got to…

He starts to scan the monitor, flicking impatiently through images.

The 3rd Doctor comes over to the Doctor, both watching the 9th as he bounds around the Console.

3RD DOCTOR: Fascinating character. Had his eye on the door since the second he got here. (to the 9th Doctor) You know, dear chap, you really oughtn’t be in such a hurry to leave all the time…

9TH DOCTOR: Get in, reboot, get out. No point in hanging about when there’s other jobs to be had.

DOCTOR: (quietly, to 3rd Doctor) He doesn’t like to talk about it, but there was this war. A Time War actually…

3RD DOCTOR: Class war more like. First casualty; manners. Speaking of which –

He shakes the Doctor by the hand.

3RD DOCTOR (CONT’D): Pleasure to meet me at last. I must say old boy, that’s a rather splendid jacket. Good to know that my sartorial gene is still alive. (pointedly at 9th Doctor) Even if it has skipped a generation or two…

9TH DOCTOR: Hey don’t look at me. I’m nowhere near the worst offender.

6TH DOCTOR (O.S.): Oh please…

They all turn to see THE 6TH DOCTOR emerging from one of the upper doorways, drink in each hand, dressed like an explosion in a bad taste factory.

6TH DOCTOR (CONT’D): The boy is clearly far too perspicacious to fall for such a mordant mendacity as yours.

9TH DOCTOR: What is this, sponsored syllable day? Even the TARDIS is struggling to translate that one.

6TH DOCTOR: Just because you dress down, doesn’t mean you have to dumb down.

9TH DOCTOR: You’ll have to speak up, I can’t hear you over the outfit.

The Doctor steps forward, watching, a beaming smile on his face, as his gaudy counterpart descends –

DOCTOR: No, but really, that is brilliant. I have missed you so, so much.

6TH DOCTOR: You’re very welcome. And might I say –

– and the Doctor bounds obliviously past him up the ramp, eyes flitting from doorway to doorway.

DOCTOR: I’ve got rooms again! Proper rooms! Oh this is going to be something else!

The 6th DOCTOR sighs, lets slip a wry smile.

6TH DOCTOR: Ah well. At least the bar is appreciated.

9th DOCTOR: You’ll put on weight you will, keep knocking those ones back. Have to hit the exercise bike. And you won’t like that…

The 6th Doctor hands the 3rd a drink.

6TH DOCTOR: I think you’ll find they’re JNT’s. A frothy brew but ultimately lightweight.

He passes a couple of coins to the 3rd Doctor.

6TH DOCTOR (CONT’D): Your change my dear. [I](watching the excited Doctor)[/I] And it seems not a moment too soon.

The 3rd Doctor gives a disapproving glance at 6th’s outfit, pulls the darkened goggles over his eyes, and moves off.

6TH DOCTOR (CONT’D): (under his breath) Foul craggy nob.

9TH DOCTOR: Right, come on! Everyone’s hanging around like it’s the green room at a convention. Where’s Bambi got to?

The Doctor emerges from another upper doorway, now arm in arm with the shambolic looking 2ND DOCTOR.

2ND DOCTOR: I must say, that’s jolly nice of you to say so old chap. I do rather seem to be the genetic template of choice don’t I?

They stop short to see Doctors 3, 6 & 9 stood before them, all eyeing them dubiously. A beat…

2ND DOCTOR (CONT’D): Well, for the clever ones at least.

9TH DOCTOR: Oi.

DOCTOR: But what are you all doing here…?

2ND DOCTOR: Ah, see, now there’s rather an interesting story there you see –

The 9th Doctor sweeps in between them, ushers the Doctor back to the Console.

9TH DOCTOR: The Tardis blew up and we fixed it. End of.

3RD DOCTOR: Or rather, her regeneration was failing and she reached out to some very old friends.

5TH DOCTOR (O.S.): A lot of very old friends.

THE 5TH DOCTOR bounds over, sleeves rolled up, shakes the Doctor warmly by the hands.

5TH DOCTOR: Jolly nice to meet you. How’re you settling in? People treating you with a lack of respect I shouldn’t wonder. No? (uncertain) No…? (disappointed) No, just me then… (conspiratorial whisper) By the way, I’ve hosted one of these things once before. Word of advice, keep the old boys away from the new. Bit of a generation gap truth be told.

DOCTOR: Er, thanks, yeah. I remember.

5TH DOCTOR: (smiles) Of course you do. A man is the sum of his memories. A Time Lord even more so.

The Doctor walks round the console.

DOCTOR: But this is brilliant. Really brilliant. Couldn’t have done better myself. And you all…? I mean, even…?

The gramophone speaker on the console blares into life, THE EIGHTH DOCTOR’s warm tones floating over it.

8TH DOCTOR: I am here you know.

The Doctor looks a little embarrassed. As do all the others.

DOCTOR: No, no, of course you are. Of course you are. And, er, why shouldn’t you be? Let’s not let one little mishap in the 1990’s put people off now shall we… I mean… All that good work… (beat)… So. Still just radio waves?

8TH DOCTOR: I’m working on it.

DOCTOR: Yep. Yep. Quite right too.

An awkward silence.

The 6th Doctor arches his eyebrow mischievously…

6TH DOCTOR: Still half human?

The Doctor switches off the volume.

DOCTOR: Oh, I’ve lost him. Maybe, I’ve, er… broken it. Or something.

9TH DOCTOR: Yeah, sorry about that. “Merlin” had an accident with the reality filter. Canon worms all over the place.

DOCTOR: “Merlin?”

The Doctor jumps as THE SEVENTH DOCTOR mysteriously appears behind him.

7TH DOCTOR: All part of the master-plan.

DOCTOR: Ah… “Merlin.”

9TH DOCTOR: That plan include a 16 year lie down?

7TH DOCTOR: Eh?

The 9th Doctor thrusts a paperback into the 7th’s hands – “Human Nature.”

9TH DOCTOR: Must try harder.

The 7th Doctor flicks through the book in a matter of seconds…

7TH DOCTOR: “John Smith”… Wait a moment, I don’t remember this. This never happened!

The Doctor frowns at the name, but the 9th ushers him away.

9TH DOCTOR: Canon worms. Everywhere. You see any talking penguins just ignore them. Right then. (indicating walkways) That’s your library, swimming pool, cloister room, hangar bay and toilets. Utility rooms and bedrooms that way. Engine’s in the basement. All in all, not a bad makeover if I do say so myself.

A wailing voice cries out from below…

10TH DOCTOR: I could have done SO MUCH MORE!

The Doctor and the 9th peer over the gantry to see a despondent 10th Doctor sat in tears.

The 4th Doctor lies nearby, a mess of scarf and burgundy.

9TH DOCTOR: Yeah, you’ve done enough thanks mate. If you hadn’t have strung out your regeneration longer than Tolkien on Mogadon we wouldn’t’ve had to even be here.

The Doctor gives them both an awkward wave.

DOCTOR: Alright? Watcha’.

4TH DOCTOR: It’s the end. But the moment has been prepared for.

10TH DOCTOR: Yeah, you just saunter off new man.

The Doctor stands back up.

DOCTOR: You know I always remembered myself having a lot more fun as those two.

9TH DOCTOR: Pre-regeneration trauma. Curly’s copped a dose of the Bidmeads and the student’s suffering with RTD.

DOCTOR: RTD?

9TH DOCTOR: Ruptured tear duct.

DOCTOR: Didn’t that start with you?

9TH DOCTOR: Nope. Not me. Never have cried, never will.

DOCTOR: You know, I’m sure I remember it differently…

9TH DOCTOR: Alternate reality probably. Time War stuff. Either way, the longer you stay, the more depressing your exit. So let’s just hand over the keys and we can all be on our –

THE CLOISTER BELL echoes through the room…

6TH DOCTOR: Time at the bar.

DOCTOR: You know, I’m not so sure I understand the hurry…

1ST DOCTOR (O.S.): No, but I think I do young man.

Everyone turns to see THE 1ST DOCTOR making his way down the ramp, his walking stick supporting him.

1ST DOCTOR (CONT’D): They’re embarrassed. Aren’t you, hmm? Tell the truth. Embarrassed to be seen with me.

3RD DOCTOR: What arrant nonsense!

2ND DOCTOR: Balderdash and poppycock!

1ST DOCTOR: Oh the clown and the dandy perhaps not so much. No so much of an age gap. And the colour blind thesaurus is a fan I know.

6TH DOCTOR: Monochromat would be a more apposite epithet. But I concede to your point.

1ST DOCTOR: Yes, yes, dear boy, no need to show off all the time. But to the others – I’m a throwback. A doddering old fool who stumbles over his words, and holds up traffic in the Vortex. An aberration from the past…

He moves over to the 9th Doctor, looks him up and down.

1ST DOCTOR: Isn’t that right, hmm?

9TH DOCTOR: You’ve got it all wrong…

1ST DOCTOR: Have I? Have I really? If I were stood in your clodhoppers I might just think it myself, eh? Why do you think I left Gallifrey in the first place hmm? Too many old fools stuck watching the past when they could be living in it. And now here I am, become another dusty relic, while you all shine and gleam at move at such speed. Look at you all. Look at this Tardis. It is wonderful. Absolutely magnificent. And yet, when this is done, I shall return to my simple box and my simple slow adventures. I shall hide myself away lest I betray the homespun roots of this legend you’ve all since become.

DOCTOR: Oh come on now, wait. It’s not like that at all. It isn’t, really.

1ST DOCTOR: No, maybe not for you my boy. You’re quite the throwback yourself it seems.

DOCTOR: Who, me? No, I’m cool. I’m cutting edge I am. No but, really, back in the day, you see, for all of us… Them… Me. It’s been about not letting you down. And yes, this Tardis. And it is a thing of beauty. But you know, if I had to go back to how it used to be, to rattling around in a plain white box with just a hat stand for company… In a heartbeats. ‘Cause you started it all. You set us free.

9TH DOCTOR: Couldn’t have put it better myself.

10TH DOCTOR (O.S.): Me neither.

The 10th Doctor stands there, wiping his eyes on his coat sleeve. He points at his eyes in explanation –

10TH DOCTOR (CONT’D): RTD.

2ND DOCTOR: You know, I think Victoria has some cream for that…

1ST DOCTOR: Well then. It looks like I’m a foolish young man with a lot to learn about you all. And I look forward to finding it all out together.

He holds out his arms, and all of the Doctor’s come together, forming a circle, their arms across each other’s shoulders…

1ST DOCTOR: No regrets.

10TH DOCTOR: No tears.

DOCTOR: No anxieties.

ALL: (NB: even the 8th Doctor over the gramophone) Just go forward in your beliefs and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine.

They look to break into handshakes and back slapping when suddenly –

All but the Doctor start to FADE…

5TH DOCTOR: Ah. Right then. Let’s not drag out the good-byes shall we? It was bad enough when there was five of us…

DOCTOR: Can I just say though – thank you. Thank you all of you. For everything. I know you won’t remember this – ‘cause I don’t remember this –

The 4th Doctor gives a manic grin –

4TH DOCTOR: Wibbly wobbly timey wimey.

3RD DOCTOR: More pseudo science poppycock.

2ND DOCTOR: I rather think that’s the anti-Bidmead solution kicking in…

10TH DOCTOR: No, actually, I’ll have that one. It’s good, I like it. Might just catch on…

DOCTOR: But thank you anyway.

And with that, they start to disappear.

The 2nd… The 3rd… The 4th… The 7th…

10TH DOCTOR: (crying) I don’t want to go…

9TH DOCTOR: Oi, don’t start that one again –

The 10th… The 9th… The 5th…

The Doctor salutes the 1st –

1ST DOCTOR: Oh come now my boy, no need for that.

– when the 6th Doctor walks between them, his back to the Doctor, talking only to the 1st.

6TH DOCTOR: I still do that, that grouchy thing, I got that from you…

1ST DOCTOR: Hmm, what? Eh?

6TH DOCTOR: Oh, and the starting off with no-one liking me.

1ST DOCTOR: What’s that? Who didn’t like me? Who?

6TH DOCTOR: (musing) Still, plenty of time to change that around though I’m sure. (back to attention) Oh, and – (mimes trying to strangle a companion) Snap!

The Doctor smiles at the 1st Doctor’s consternation.

6TH DOCTOR: ‘Cause you know what Doctor. You were my Doctor…

1ST DOCTOR: Help me Chesterfield…

And they both finally fade away.

DOCTOR: All my love to even longer ago.

The Doctor takes another look around the vast console room, captivated by its beauty.

DOCTOR: All of this, built by me. I wonder why I never remember it…?

He hears a squelch beneath his foot, looks down.

DOCTOR: Ah. Canon worm.

And we FLASH CUT TO:

EXT. AMY POND’S GARDEN – DAY

The Doctor stands before the TARDIS, his body bristling with anticipation…

DOCTOR: Okay… What have you got for me this time…?

He takes a breath and then –

INT. TARDIS CONSOLE ROOM – DAY

– the Doctor steps inside.


Doctor Who. “The End Of Time.” Deleted Scene.

January 15, 2010
3 Comments
INT. HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBERS. GALLIFREY – NIGHT

THE PRESIDENT addresses the assembled TIME LORD ranks, the chamber resonating with the sound of his voice –

PRESIDENT
For Gallifrey!

The gathered masses echo back in unison, a fervoured call to arms –

TIME LORDS
For Gallifrey!

PRESIDENT
For victory!

TIME LORDS
For victory!

PRESIDENT
For the end of Time itself!

TIME LORDS
The end of Time!

A cacophony of war cries reverberate around the ancient halls, the Time Lords baying for battle.

The President soaks in the atmosphere, lets slip a grim smile…

– when a small VOICE cuts through the crowd.

CLEANER
(off screen)
How’s that work then?

The chamber falls silent as the President glares in the direction of the voice – sees a weasely figure in shabby robes leaning up against an ornate broomstick. THE CLEANER.

The President contains his anger.

PRESIDENT
I’m sorry…?

CLEANER
“The end of Time.” How’s it actually work? Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure these things look great on paper. Very dark, very portentous. Probably put the wind up the old pepper-pots for a rel or two. It’s more the practicalities I’m on about. I mean, end of Time, that’s us out of a job for a start.

The President speaks slowly through gritted teeth.

PRESIDENT
I didn’t catch your name…

CLEANER
I’m the cleaner.

PRESIDENT
I was not aware of such a Time Lord title.

CLEANER
No. Just the cleaner. Sweep up the rubble. Pick up the headgear. Polish the scary looking gauntlets. But a Time Lord cleaner all the same right? Now you go throwing the baby out with the bathwater and we’re all on the scrap heap.

PRESIDENT
I don’t think you grasp the magnitude of our actions…

The Cleaner rolls a cigarette as he talks –

CLEANER
(cheerily dismissive)
Well, it’s one of them, isn’t it? End of time, end of reality. End of season. Gets over complicated. I don’t get why we don’t just crack open one of them TARDISes, take a quick gander into the Time Vortex, nick a bit of power and then wipe the Daleks out of existence. Runcible’s your uncle, job’s a good ‘un. Done.

MURMURS of assent start to sweep the chamber as the gathered Time Lords absorb this information.

The President looks a little thrown. He turns to the throng, hushes them with his hands.

PRESIDENT
A fine plan, but flawed. For only a human may look into the heart of a TARDIS.

CLEANER
Right, and there’s never one of them around is there?

Pockets of LAUGHTER break out from the assembly, swiftly cut out by a glowering President.

CLEANER (CONT’D)
Nah, I’m just pulling your sash your excellence. I know what you’re saying. Can’t go interfering can we? But we don’t need to do we?
(to a nearby COUNCILLOR)
You haven’t got a light have you mate, my sonic’s right out.

The Councillor holds his Sonic Screwdriver out, the Cleaner lighting his cigarette from it’s tip.

CLEANER (CONT’D)
Ta very much.

PRESIDENT
If you’ve quite finished…

CLEANER
Chameleon Arch right? There you go! Pop one of them on your bonce, instant human. Crack open your TARDIS, quick snifter of Vortex, bish bash bosh, end of Time War. There’s a fella called Drax got a job lot of them. Fell out the back of a bow-ship. Tell him I sent you, he’ll throw you in a free fob watch.

The words bring about another swell of EXCITEMENT from the crowd. The President’s voice rises over them.

PRESIDENT
A suicide mission! Certain death for any who drink from such a poisoned chalice.

The Cleaner wails in mock misery.

CLEANER
Oh no, if only we had a way to cheat death…

More stifled LAUGHTER from the gallery.

CLEANER (CONT’D)
No, but seriously, right? Quick peck on the lips, nothing saucy – we are non-sexual beings after all, right? –  suck out the Time Vortex, take one for the team and it’s Gallifrey – 1, Skaro – nil. I tell you, we’re on to a winner with that one.

The President speaks above the rising HUBBUB.

PRESIDENT
A fool’s design! You’d never penetrate the heart of a TARDIS. The finest temporal engineering in the cosmos!

CLEANER
Borusa’s arse is it. There’s a fella down “The Hand Of Omega” reckons he cracked one open with a Sol 3 pick-up truck. They’ve been cutting corners on those consoles for millennia.
(to the crowd)
Anyone ever piloted a Type 40?

A COUNCILLOR shouts out from the gallery.

COUNCILLOR
I have!

CLEANER
Oh yeah? How’d you find the spatial relay?

COUNCILLOR
Pulls a bit now you mention it…

CLEANER
Exactly! Bloody Arcalians! Cheap labour’s what it is.

The President glares at the Cleaner.

PRESIDENT
Enough! The glory of the Time Lord race will not be put into the hands of a plan devised by scrofulous proles at the local ale house!

CLEANER
Hands! That’s a good one. Lop one off post regeneration, grow yourself a spare body – Human-Time Lord Meta-Crisis. There you go, half human. Stick ‘em in a TARDIS, open up the Eye Of Harmony, suck the Daleks into that. Or did we do that one before? All these alternate bloody realities it’s hard to keep a track of who’s doing what.

PRESIDENT
Will you not cease your endless prattling?

CLEANER
Immortality Gate! That’s the one. Stick yourself in one of those, switch the dial up to Dalek, and turn the buggers into Time Lords. See? There’s loads of ways to sort this out without throwing your toys out the pram. You got to start thinking outside of the Police Box.

The President lets out a low growl, seizes the Cleaner by his robes. He holds the little man in front of his now furious face.

PRESIDENT
Listen boyo, this is a Time War see? The stuff of bloody legend right? The Medusa Cascade, The Nightmare Child, The Fall Of Arcadia. It’s like a bloody Prog Rock thesaurus out there! And it’s not going to end with some Deus Ex Machina – whose meaning everybody gets wrong by the bloody way – magic dressed up in techno babble science! It’s going to have a logical narrative through line, despite the non-linear nature of time travel, and it’s going to have an ending that pays off subtle foreshadowing with emotional bloody resonance. Do I make myself clear, sunshine?

CLEANER
You’re going to hit the reset button aren’t you?

PRESIDENT
(triumphant)
Back to Arc Of Infinity!!!

CLEANER
You just spat in my face.

PRESIDENT
It’s what I do. It’s dramatic.

OPENING CREDITS.

The Keys To The Kingdom…

April 5, 2009
2 Comments

Wow.

I can’t say that I’m a massive fan of James Moran‘s work up till now. Actually, that’s a bit misleading, seeing as I’ve only ever encountered 4 projects of his.

The first was “Severance” which was okay, but tainted for me by the inclusion of professional wanker Danny Dyer. Not James Moran’s fault I’m sure, but galling all the same.

Next up is his episode of “Torchwood” – “Sleeper” – which was one of the stronger episodes of season 2 and benefitted greatly from some awesome guest casting in the form of Nikki Amuka-Bird as Beth. 

Thirdly there’s “The Fires Of Pompeii” from Doctor Who‘s 4th season. I loved this episode, but, as with most modern Who, the hand of Russell T Davies is greatly present in the final draft, so I can’t give all the credit to Moran.

What I can give him credit for though, and if I ever get to meet him will shake his hand firmly and unnervingly for, is his phenomenal blog entry “The Big Writing FAQ.” Honestly, I have to say, this is probably the greatest article I have ever read on art of screen-writing and I’ve read more than a few. 

The honesty and clarity with which he spells it out is phenomenal;

“Start writing. Keep writing.”

So say we all….


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Amateur Writer. Professional Crastinator.

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