The Doctor hatches a plan to finally rid himself of his most useless companion ever. He arrives in the swinging sixties and goes to a nightclub where he chats up a tramp, throws some shapes, picks up a dolly bird and a sailor and leaves with them in a taxi (the dirty old goat!). Then he hypnotises her into unconsciousness and has someone else dump her in a field somewhere in the countryside before he challenges a fruit and veg hating remote control tank to an outdoor wrestling match (He’s got the cape but thank god he doesn’t have a pair of glittery underpants).

When a giant envelope-sorting machine persuades people to build another one in the middle of a fireworks factory while they’re half asleep, the Doctor (un)screws with the second one's mind and convinces it to go and kill it’s daddy.

None of the other machines get finished because a vital elastic band shipment never arrives. What do you expect when you set your evil empire in the Post Office?

The Doctor leaves and everyone forgets…oh, you know….wotsername….well they forget her anyway.

Good.