Four days after his own funeral, Albert Wilkes came home for Tea.

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Hey, tell me, when did this conversation go completely whoosh?

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Mots clés rose-tyler



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The Doctor snorted. 'Wimp!' He squared his shoulders and turned towards the fire, grinning. 'Race you.' And he was off, running. Jack hesitated, sighed, swore, and ran after him. Levin and Krylek, Catherine and the villagers stared after them in astonishment. Two dark figures running though fire...

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The Doctor's plan, such as it was, was to escape from Barinska without being shot.

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The guards had asked the Doctor to please wait in the hallway until Mr McCavity had time to see him. So it seemed only polite, the Doctor thought, to wait until they had gone before he wandered off to explore the house.

Justin Richards

Mots clés humor doctor-who the-doctor



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Explain,’ the troll hissed.
‘Explain what? I was just…’ Harry pointed back the way he’d come. ‘Let me go, please, sir. I won’t breathe a word about what I seen. Not about you nor the dead body.’
‘Explain the dead body,’ the troll said, shaking Harry so violently that his teeth rattled.
‘It’s a body,’ he said when he could finally draw breath. ‘And it’s dead. A woman, in a coat, bleeding.’
‘What colour fur?’ the troll demanded.
‘It’s not fur, it’s probably wool.’
The creature’s eyes narrowed even further. ‘Not the coat,’ it rasped. ‘On its head – what colour was the fur on the female’s head?’
Harry frowned, struggling to understand. ‘You mean her hair?’
‘Hair, fur, protective cranial grafting – whatever term you use on this primitive planet. What colour was it?’
‘Sort of… brownish.’
‘Brownish.’
‘And quite long. I think.’ Despite the tight grip that the troll maintained on his shoulders, Harry managed to get one hand up high enough to show how long the dead woman’s hair had been. ‘About this long.’
The grip on his shoulders loosened and Harry felt himself sag. Then he stumbled forwards under a near-crippling slap on his back.
‘Good lad,’ the troll said. ‘Your observational skills are adequate. You would make a good forward sniper.’
‘Oh, um, thank you, sir.’ Harry swallowed. ‘Can I go now?

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Strax slammed his fist into the open palm of his other hand. ‘At last,’ he pronounced. ‘We strike for the greater glory of the Sontaran Empire. Sontar-Ha!’ His brow furrowed slightly as he saw the others’ expressions. ‘That is. For the greater glory of Paternoster Row, of course. Pater-Nos-Ta!

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Madame Vastra and the others made their return to Paternoster Row by a circumspect route. Strax in particular was keen to intercept any individual he suspected might be following and forcibly remove a variety of their limbs and appendages. But Jenny prevailed upon him that most of the people he singled out were merely walking past. Given the lateness of the hour there were, thankfully, not many.
‘What about him?’ Strax said, pointing to a figure shambling slowly along on the opposite pavement.
‘That old lady is selling lucky heather, and she’s heading in a different direction so she’s unlikely to be following us.’
‘She could be bluffing. And who is this Lucky Heather anyway?’
‘It’s heather – it’s a plant not a person. It’s supposed to be lucky.’
‘Not if I catch her, it won’t be.’
‘Strax,’ Vastra said simply. ‘No.

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Strax gave a snort of amusement. ‘It is surely a very simple choice. One option is for a quiet life with honest work amongst other humans paying a living wage and with prospects of promotion within a distinguished household. The other... ‘ He drew himself up to his full height and looked up at them, ‘is the prospect of constant danger, fear and risk. No chance of ever seeing your friends again, or making new ones. The knowledge that death waits around the next corner and you are unlikely to see the end of the next week without at the very least a serious injury. A glorious alternative.

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He ain’t my friend,’ Harry said. ‘Not no more, he ain’t.’
Strax leaned across to Jenny. ‘At what age do these cubs become grammatical?’ he demanded.
‘Depends,’ she told him. ‘At what age do Sontarans become pacifists?

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