Doctor Who fic
Jun. 18th, 2008 02:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tree_and_leafI really ought to have been reading Latin, instead of writing this. Ah well…
Title: Another Time, Another Time
Characters: The Fifth Doctor, the Brigadier, with a certain cricketing enthusiast off-stage.
Summary: I saw Len Hutton in his prime/ Another time, another time. What if the Doctor did take the Brigadier on a trip in the TARDIS after all?
Length: 500 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who, or the unseen guest star (whose identity is left as a rather easy puzzle for the reader). The title is, of course, derived from Harold Pinter’s poem (quoted above in its entirety!), and the Doctor quotes from Francis Thomson’s “At Lords”
Warning: Contains cricket geekishness.
“The Varsity Match…?” said the Brigadier, gazing at the signboard outside Lords in surprise. “It’s not that they're not a hotbed of talent, but I’d have thought with a time-machine, you could have found a more historically significant game. Headingley in ’48. Manchester or the Oval 1902. The Bodyline series. Jardine. Bradman. Or WG Grace. Or even have been at Headingley in 1981, rather than out chasing Autons. Life is very unfair, at times.”
“Oh my Hornby and my Barlow long ago…” said the Doctor, as if to himself. “WG Grace was unbearable, you know. And I can’t say I approve of leg theory – mind you, I’m a bit sorry for Larwood. You can’t tell people to succeed at any cost and then complain that they didn’t do it nicely.”
“How true,” muttered the Brigadier. “Very well then: why this game?”
“To be perfectly honest, I was trying to get to the end of the 1912 Ashes series.” His voice was almost convincingly airy, but the pale skin was slightly flushed.
“Doctor, that was in Melbourne. In January or February. This, I hardly need point out, is St John’s Wood in June.”
“Yes, I know,” said the Doctor, looking slightly ruffled. “The TARDIS seems to be developing a strange obsession with London. But anyway, Australia’s horrid in summer, and there’s nothing decent to drink at this time of the century, and this is a rather good match. If a little melancholy, in a ‘what might have been’ sort of way.”
“Yes.” The Brigadier sighed. “In three years – You know, I’m not entirely sure I care for time travel.”
“Watch out for the third man in for Oxford,” the Doctor advised him. “Smallish, blond, very characteristic late cut. Should have played for England, but as it is, this is the last time he’ll set foot on the wicket at Lords.”
“Oh dear. Did the poor devil - ?”
The Doctor looked slightly surprised. “Oh no, nothing like that. He’ll come through the war in one piece – more or less. But he took to solving crimes, and – well, I do sometimes wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t fallen off a wall in 1920…”
“And you’ve never felt tempted –”
“Of course not,” said the Doctor, just a shade too quickly. “That would be completely irresponsible, and might cause a temporal paradox. It might even lead to a rupture in the fabric of space time…”
“I see. You have.”
The Doctor ignored him. “It’s only a game. A human game, at that, and it’s not as if I really care whether England get whitewashed by Australia or not.”
A passerby, who had heard the last part of the remark, tutted audibly. The Brigadier smiled. “Doctor, you can’t fool me, you know. You may be an alien, but you went native a long time ago, at least as far as cricket goes.”
“Nonsense. I have a firm sense of priority – goodness, is that the time? Come on, or we’ll miss the toss…”
ETA: And if you know who went in third for Oxford, then you will enjoy![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nineveh_uk's excellent cricketing ficlet, which could be regarded as a sequel. Or possibly a prequel. It's all a bit wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, if you try to look at it like that.
Title: Another Time, Another Time
Characters: The Fifth Doctor, the Brigadier, with a certain cricketing enthusiast off-stage.
Summary: I saw Len Hutton in his prime/ Another time, another time. What if the Doctor did take the Brigadier on a trip in the TARDIS after all?
Length: 500 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who, or the unseen guest star (whose identity is left as a rather easy puzzle for the reader). The title is, of course, derived from Harold Pinter’s poem (quoted above in its entirety!), and the Doctor quotes from Francis Thomson’s “At Lords”
Warning: Contains cricket geekishness.
“The Varsity Match…?” said the Brigadier, gazing at the signboard outside Lords in surprise. “It’s not that they're not a hotbed of talent, but I’d have thought with a time-machine, you could have found a more historically significant game. Headingley in ’48. Manchester or the Oval 1902. The Bodyline series. Jardine. Bradman. Or WG Grace. Or even have been at Headingley in 1981, rather than out chasing Autons. Life is very unfair, at times.”
“Oh my Hornby and my Barlow long ago…” said the Doctor, as if to himself. “WG Grace was unbearable, you know. And I can’t say I approve of leg theory – mind you, I’m a bit sorry for Larwood. You can’t tell people to succeed at any cost and then complain that they didn’t do it nicely.”
“How true,” muttered the Brigadier. “Very well then: why this game?”
“To be perfectly honest, I was trying to get to the end of the 1912 Ashes series.” His voice was almost convincingly airy, but the pale skin was slightly flushed.
“Doctor, that was in Melbourne. In January or February. This, I hardly need point out, is St John’s Wood in June.”
“Yes, I know,” said the Doctor, looking slightly ruffled. “The TARDIS seems to be developing a strange obsession with London. But anyway, Australia’s horrid in summer, and there’s nothing decent to drink at this time of the century, and this is a rather good match. If a little melancholy, in a ‘what might have been’ sort of way.”
“Yes.” The Brigadier sighed. “In three years – You know, I’m not entirely sure I care for time travel.”
“Watch out for the third man in for Oxford,” the Doctor advised him. “Smallish, blond, very characteristic late cut. Should have played for England, but as it is, this is the last time he’ll set foot on the wicket at Lords.”
“Oh dear. Did the poor devil - ?”
The Doctor looked slightly surprised. “Oh no, nothing like that. He’ll come through the war in one piece – more or less. But he took to solving crimes, and – well, I do sometimes wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t fallen off a wall in 1920…”
“And you’ve never felt tempted –”
“Of course not,” said the Doctor, just a shade too quickly. “That would be completely irresponsible, and might cause a temporal paradox. It might even lead to a rupture in the fabric of space time…”
“I see. You have.”
The Doctor ignored him. “It’s only a game. A human game, at that, and it’s not as if I really care whether England get whitewashed by Australia or not.”
A passerby, who had heard the last part of the remark, tutted audibly. The Brigadier smiled. “Doctor, you can’t fool me, you know. You may be an alien, but you went native a long time ago, at least as far as cricket goes.”
“Nonsense. I have a firm sense of priority – goodness, is that the time? Come on, or we’ll miss the toss…”
ETA: And if you know who went in third for Oxford, then you will enjoy
nineveh_uk's excellent cricketing ficlet, which could be regarded as a sequel. Or possibly a prequel. It's all a bit wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, if you try to look at it like that.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-18 02:53 pm (UTC)If maybe you're catching a fleeting glimpse, of a twelfth man at silly mid-on.
And it could be Geoff, and it could be John,
With a new ball sting in his tail.
And it could be me, and it could be thee,
And it could be the sting in the ale.........a sting in the ale"