theTimeVault

A haunting documentary about Sir Mick Jagger’s eight children (by five women), five grand-children and one great grand-child….

They thought he was a drug-addled rock star, what they didn’t know was that in 1555, Nostradamus predicted he would raise an army, an army that would take over the world!

The prediction goes: On December 31st, 2020. A Rolling Stones concert will take place, and the last note of the last song will transmit a signal, activating the entire Jagger clan; Having been strategically placed around the world, as one they will rise up, pout, clap their hands and walk like a chicken in such a way that no one will be able to resist their power. As each person they meet falls under their spell and becomes like them the World’s population will be turned into Jagger clones. They will build an army of spaceships and travel the universe singing Ruby Tuesday and turning any race they meet into other Jagger clones. A select few will be allowed to become David Bowies, Peter Toshs and The Jacksons, (for authentic cloned collaboration purposes) and all will be forced to watch Ned Kelly and Freejack. Forever.

All Hail The Mighty Jagger!

Or we could just be taking the mick.

How many Emohawks does it take to change an alert bulb?

That and a whole Legion of questions will not be asked in this edition of TimeVault. Instead you have to spend the whole time looking for a Red Dwarf because somebody’s lost one. But remember, when the Psiren sounds it means you’re Out of Time.

So you may prefer to spend your time watching Revenge of the Surfboarding Killer Bikini Vampire Girls instead.

We’d love to do a commentary on THAT!

In this tharilling adventure, Adric’s lion about doing not very much at all, K-9’s got a bad case of time wind, and the Doctor’s hoping that the latest TARDIS faults haven’t made the warranty void.

Romana’s not letting any of that bother her though, she’s found a nice empty little room with a comfy chair, some old photos and a pair of headphones and she’s well happy (probably listening to the White album).

The lost electricians aren’t happy; the locals are refusing to give them directions. They haven’t made a good impression because their health and safety standards when it comes to the wiring is enough to make your hair stand on end.

The locals aren’t happy because they were really hoping the maid was going to turn up this morning; they’ve found a bit of dust in the dining room.

Biroc’s the mane man and he’s not happy because he’s had a bit of a roar deal. He used to have a thriving empire and now all he’s got is a mirror that tells him he needs a shave. He’s impatient to have his old life back, you see he just can’t wait to be king.

and that’s it…i’ve run out of lion jokes. You wouldn’t get any better ones even if you pride them out of me.

E-Space is well known for having the worst dental care of all the alphabet, so it’s no surprise that their state of decay has driven the Great Gumpire to set up a new clinic on ye olde fashionee world. He has a two point plan that seems a bit batty; he doesn’t use anaesthetic, just good old fashioned hypnotism, which isn’t in the least bit suspicious or kind of groomy. But fangs ain’t what they used to be and you do what you must.

What you mustn’t do is eat the food. The state sanctioned menu consists of a single plate of sad looking salami slices and one bowl of hard to steal soup, it’s not good for your oral hygiene. The castle does have a well stocked cellar though, plenty of barrels of red.

Not everyone’s receptive to all this dentistry though, all the old folk have hidden in the forest to start a beard farm in protest. But that could be because the Great Gumpire’s dental plan is only available to the young….

…boys.

But there aren’t any women on this planet so, like i said, you do what you must.

Shame he didn’t get stuck in F-space.

It’s a lovely day, the sun is shining, birds are singing, rivers are boiling and swamps are bubbling. The perfect day for angry men to gather river fruits, for enthusiastic men to wash plums (before they’re roasted), for rebellious teenagers to grab someone's juicy melons and for young boys to be chased through the woods by older men (not for the last time, either).

And then after a tiring day, lock everyone indoors and spend the next 10 years changing all the batteries in the house.

After dinner, Spider-woman breaks in through the back door and starts shaking a dead dog’s head on a stick at people, so the three most incorrectly named men in E-Space seek inspiration by turning the telly on to the Cartoon Network to watch Dexeter’s Laboratory. It’s that classic episode where Dexeter cuts into a child’s brain and causes it to go on a violent rampage before strangling Dexeter and then electrocuting itself. You remember that one.

Not quite sure how it’s going to help, but you never know.

Choose trains. Choose no actual trains. Choose candles. Choose an elderly arsonist. Choose an empty hotel, choose magically refilling flower pots, trip wires, stroppy ghosts and layers of dust. Choose trip wires, seances and barbed wire doors.

Choose a submarine. Choose role-play with a pretty woman. Choose arguments with a heartless bastard. Choose a face full of mincemeat. Choose a one-eyed cat and mouldy sandwiches.

Choose banging away on a piece of junk outside in the dark while singing a really old song to a malevolent creeping blackness and wondering what the f*** you are doing starting a band in the middle of the night with an unsettlingly enthusiastic stranger who has complete disregard for you and anyone you have-will-could know.

Choose tension, and more tension, and even more tension. Choose not to eat the mouldy sandwiches. Choose your future. But only your future. Choose not to choose someone else’s future. And the explanations? There are no explanations. Who needs explanations when you’re medium atomic weights?

Now, don’t get tetchy but there’s still a few things you need to do first. Are you wearing a red and white gingham dress with army boots? Have you eaten an edible Pot Noodle? Have you given pleasure to the World for having a great arse? Good, did you get a couple of handmaidens to ritualistically oil your nipples? Okay, well, as you’ve only achieved exactly four percent of the list, you may now step into the elevator, shout ‘Geronimo’ and push the button for Sexual Recreation. Just remember your manners.

Because if you don’t, Mr Flibble will get very cross….

It’s not easy trying to create a religion based on geometrical objects, you know.

The Hexagon got lost in the post, the Octagon was eaten by the cat, the Nonagon never even happened and the Pentagon’s already been copyrighted. The Tetrahedron got wedged in the lift, the Cube was sent back because it was boring, there’s a Gaztak mercenary swinging on the Trapezoid and the Dodecahedron just shrank. The only one left is the Icosahedron.

But that would just be silly.

The Tigellans might be able to sort it out but they’re stuck in a power triangle, Romana’s walking in circles and K-9’s just in general bad shape.

Speaking of bad shape, the Doctor’s not very well. He’s looking a bit green, he’s coming out in a rash, he’s recovering from Chronic Hysteresis, someone keeps trying to steal his coat….oh, and i think he may have just sat on a cactus. Ouch.

Leave your homework for a moment kid, there’s a giggling giant strolling through the house kicking down all the doors and a miserable git dumping all the food in your freezer. There’s a policeman knocking on the door, a couple of old soldiers running up and down the stairs, a hurricane in the kitchen and a fashion-conscious flirt burning all your stuff. I’d go and get your parents if i were you, they’re in the cellar playing with your mum’s new turntable. It’s really put a smile on her face.

….second thoughts, DON’T get your parents. Sort it out yourself. But before you do can you please STOP THOSE BLOODY CLOCKS. It’s getting so a malevolent, extra-dimensional force can’t hear itself think.

The Doctor and Romana have decided they need a bit of leisure time but everywhere’s booked solid and their last resort is the one remaining building in a war-torn wasteland (no dogs). Chucking K-9 in the sea, they go on holiday.

Unfortunately, this particular holiday camp isn’t exactly a hive of activity; the staff keep dying of old age, the new owner hates people and has just bought a brand new 3D printer, which he hopes will help him make new friends, the new owner’s mum’s best friend has built a ‘make me young’ machine and there’s an army of giant frogs in fancy dress wandering around the place trying to buy everything.

The new owner doesn’t care because he’s just got himself a brand new hat and he wants to show it off to the galaxy. The Doctor’s tired of it all so he has a go in the ‘make me young’ machine’ unluckily for him, Romana’s been fiddling with it and plugged the cables in the wrong holes and before you know it, the Doctor suddenly finds he’s in his 80’s.

They’ll probably need a holiday after this.