Dawn
You've all heard of Torchwood, right? Well, I was employed by them for a while several years ago, as a consultant on temporal anomalies. Pay was crap but the sex was fantastic. One night I was out on the lash in Cardiff with the team and I ended up in this cheesy nightclub with Captain Jack. We were the only ones standing as our metabolisms were able to cope with the vast amounts of alcohol we had sunk, everyone else had given up and gone home. So Jack and I were in this club, it was an 80s retro night, and it was packed with pissed, pilled, sweaty humans. Jack and I surveyed the masses like farmers assessing pigs for slaughter. One female in particular caught our attention: an obese, ugly munter dressed in dayglo pink several sizes too small. All the other totty in the place was stunning, so her hideousness stood out all the more. She was drinking and dancing and partying with the utmost unselfconscious abandon. Despite her grossness, we began to admire her. Good for her, we thought! Then Jack began to arse about, saying, ‘would you’, etc. We began to wind each other up mercilessly and it escalated into a bet. We tossed, and when we got back from the toilets, tossed a coin, the bet being: heads, Jack takes the moose back to the Hub and fucks her; tails, I take her for a journey in my TARDIS (it was working back then).

I lost.

So I approached this beast, Jack’s derisive laughter echoing in my ears, and introduced myself.

‘Hello. My name is Doctor Skagra.’

The creature squinted up at me with suspicion. Facially, she somewhat bizarrely reminded me of Peter Gilmore out of The Onedin Line crossed with Millie Tant out of Viz. ‘Hullo! My name’s Dawn’, she bellowed.

I grinned, hoping that I looked terrifying. ‘Would you like to come for a trip in my time machine?’

Dawn’s eyes bulged and fizzed like frying eggs. ‘Coo! It’s a date!’

And so I led her by the (warm, slightly sweaty hand) out of the club, trying to ignore Captain Jack Harkness who was by now writhing on the floor foming at the mouth with larffter. The cunt.
As I led her through the night-time streets of Cardiff, she produced a Pork Pie from her handbag and set to it with grotesque gusto.

We reached my TARDIS which was disguised as a dustbin outside Burger King, and entered. I had to adjust the dimensional relativiser so that Dawn’s leviathan bulk could pass through. As she clocked the incongruously massive interior, she gaped in wonder, almost dropping her Pork Pie, bits of processed meat and pastry falling from her maw to the floor where Tidge and Tadge, my tame Cybermats, cleaned it up.

‘Fuck me!’ she gasped.

No chance of that, I muttered to myself as I set the controls to random, not caring where and when we went on this ‘date’.

I watched as she trundled around my console room (which was a nice blue/white ‘aqua’ colour scheme), firing off moronic questions like ‘how much this cost you?’, ‘what’s that going-up-and-downy thing?’ and ‘where’s the bog?’

Fortunately, the journey proved to be short as my TARDIS locked on to co-ordinates and began to materialised. I didn’t recognise the co-ordinates – in retrospect, I should have done a quick scan before going out, but I just wanted this over as soon as. ‘We’ve landed,’ I told her.

Somehow, Dawn managed to speak between big bites of her enormous Pork Pie. ‘Munch! Munch! Oooh! Munch! Where?’

‘Let’s see.’ I activated the scanner.

Dawn was still intent on the remains of her pie, and I shuddered as I watched her lick greasy flakes of pastry from her chubby fingers.

I returned my gaze to the scanner, and my hearts sank. ‘Oh, no,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Have I got time for a quick spatio-temporal hop?’ But a quick check of the power gauges answered that. My TARDIS needed at least an hour to recharge its Artron energy before it went anywhere, or anywhen, else.

Dawn, having finished devouring her pie - and already presumably thinking about where the next one was coming from - picked up on my subdued mood. She lumbered around the console, rudely shoving me away from the scanner. ‘Hoy! Where are we then, mush?’ she grunted.

I rubbed my arm where Dawn’s considerable bulk had hit me. ‘Somewhere tasty.’

Dawn had now seen the view on the scanner screen. Her jaw gaped, and thick strands of saliva dribbled from her pendulous lip, pooling thickly on the console. ‘Wuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!’ she groaned in ecstasy. ‘Wuuugh! Waaagh! OOOOOORGH!’

The screen showed a rolling landscape of hills and valleys composed entirely of glazed pastry. It shone like burnished gold under a bloated sun. I closed my eyes. ‘Of all the places – Ginsters’ World!’

‘Open the doors! OPEN THE DOORS!’ gargled Dawn through a throatful of drool.

I activated the door controls, once again adjusting the dimensional relativiser so that Dawn’s leviathan bulk could pass through. There was a brief lull, then the sound of steady, contented gorging. It sounded like a sty full of starving catarrhous pigs snout-deep in slop.

Feeling nauseous I stepped out of my TARDIS onto the scrumptious surface of Ginsters’ World. The sunlight made me squint and the smell of cooked meat in jelly inveigled its way into my flared nostrils. ‘The whole planet is one enormous pie,’ I muttered. Dawn was on her knees, oblivious to anything but filling her face, which was buried in pastry, meat and goo.

‘Watch it, if you eat too much, you’ll set the planet off its orbit.’

‘SLOBBER! SLOO! SCLOOOOORCH! GRAAA!’ was Dawn’s reply.

Then something glinting in the middle distance caught my eye. I moved closer. It was a metal pole, about four feet high, with two triangular flags fluttering at its top. I turned and ran back to Dawn, who was now waist deep in pie, podgy legs waving in the air.

‘Dawn! We must leave. NOW!’ I grabbed her feet and pulled but she was far too fond of her food to let go.

And it was too late anyway.

Three stocky, helmeted figures appeared from behind a massive Scotch Egg. The leader raised a wand-like weapon, and wheezed: ‘You are now prisoners of the glorious and strategic Sontaran Empire!’

Bollocks. Bugger. BALLS! Sontarans! ‘What are you lot doing here?’ I glanced around at the tasty terrain. ‘It’s not as if you need to eat, is it?’

The lead Sontaran stamped and snorted. ‘I am Commander Skunt of the Sontaran Strategic Sn... Strategy Squadron,’ he hissed. ‘This planet is of vital strategic importance.’

Meanwhile, the other two Sontarans were tugging Dawn from her gorge-hole. ‘Waaaaaa!’ cried the fatastrophic femme fat-ale. ‘Lemme GO!’ She sprawled ungraciously on the glazed surface of Ginsters’ World, her face a suffused gurn of thwarted hunger.

Commander Skunt glared down at Dawn and then up at me. ‘Who are you and what is your purpose here?’

I folded my arms. ‘My name is Doctor Skagra, this is Dawn, and this is turning out to be the date from hell.’

Dawn had by now clocked the Sontarans. ‘Eeeeee! Oooooo! MONSTERS!’ she shrieked. She clung to my leg and farted in fear.

I waved my coat to dispel the malodorous miasma - but the Sontarans seemed terribly affected by the pong. They staggered around spluttering and stomping and gasping for air.

I frowned. There was something different about these Sontarans – but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. ‘Well done, Dawn!’ I said, dragging her to her feet, a feat which took all my Time Lord strength. ‘Whilst they’re disoriented let’s leg it back to my TARDIS!’

But the Sontarans had recovered. ‘Lieutenant Vart! Lieutenant Vadj! SEIZE THEM!’ bellowed Commander Skunt, his eyes glowing redly through the slits in his domed helmet.

Dawn and I found ourselves gripped tightly by strong three-fingered alien hands and marched towards the giant Scotch Egg. Dawn seemed hypnotised by the giant snack, and began drooling copiously.

‘Sorry, Dawn,’ I said. ‘That’s NOT a Scotch Egg - it’s a Sontaran battle cruiser.’

‘That is correct!’ spluttered Skunt as we passed into the shadow of the gigantic ersatz egg.

‘But why does it look like a Scotch egg?’ I wondered aloud.

‘It is a strategic disguise,’ rumbled Skunt, as if that explained everything. As they neared, a hatch opened in the breadcrumby skin of the Sontaran ship and a ramp descended. Dawn was shoved onto the ramp, a Sontaran boot prodding her ample behind. She waved her arms in the air and wailed: ‘I wanna go a pooh!’

I was going to fucking murder Captain Jack when – if – I got back to Cardiff.

Inside the Sontaran battle cruiser, it stank. I wrinkled my nose. ‘I don’t know what’s worse, the whiff of your guffs or the smell of stale Sontaran jock-sweat.’

‘My bum feels funny,’ wailed Dawn in answer. I frowned. Could she think of nothing but her digestive processes?

We were shoved, harangued and prodded up against a wall by the three growling Sontarans. Dawn’s jowls wobbled in fear. The Sontarans removed their helmets. Dawn screamed at the sight of their toad-like faces and potatoey heads.

I, of course, didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Well, now you’ve got us, what are you going to do with us?’

‘You cannot be allowed to interfere with the Sontaran strategy,’ gurgled Skunt, fat pink tongue licking thick black lips. ‘Therefore you will be strategically executed!’

‘Quick, Dawn, let another one off!’

‘I can’t! I think I’m constipated!’

‘But you said you wanted -’

‘I know!’ wailed Dawn, ‘But I caaaan’t! I’m all bunged up!’

The three Sontarans raised their weapons.

‘Scream! And prepare to writhe, and die!’ roared Commander Skunt.

The ends of their weapons began to glow red.

A flicker of something caught my eagle eye. ‘Wait!’ I yelled, stepping forward and raising my hands. ‘There’s a traitor in your midst!’

‘Shut up!’ roared Skunt, steam hissing from between his teeth.

‘It’s Vadj!’ I shouted, pointing.

Skunt and Vart turned to look uneasily at their comrade.

‘He’s gorn all glowy!’ cried Dawn.

It was true – Lieutenant Vadj was suffused with an eerie glow, like an intergalactic Ready Brek Kid, only green. He began to change...

Skunt and Vart grunted in alarm and stepped backwards, levelling their guns at Vadj. Their comrade had now morphed into a gigantic blobular ball covered in fine white hairs, like a giant gooseberry. It pulsed with an eerie inner green light and blue sparks crackled across its jelly-like surface.

‘Oh my God what the HELL is that?’ wailed Dawn, clutching my arm so hard that I winced.

‘A Rutan scout,’ I explained.

Skunt and Vart simultaneously fired at the alien intruder. Sizzling beams of red energy jetted from the ends of their weapons and plunged into the Rutan - but it just fizzed, absorbed the energy, and crackled angrily.

‘Your weapons are useless!’ warbled the Rutan in a voice that sounded both electronic and soupy. It surged towards us, flailing its tentacles and casting off blue arcs of energy.

Dawn shrieked, and farted. A look of mixed relief and terror dawned on her face. ‘I’m unblocked!’

Vart, rather ironically, gagged at the smell, and staggered towards the advancing Rutan. Blue energy found him and the Sontaran warrior was instantly fried to a crisp.

‘Run!’ I yelled, shoving the choking Skunt and my malodorous date deeper into the bowels of the disguised Sontaran ship. It was dark, dank, smelly, and laced with curving circular corridors paved with grating that clanked beneath our feet.

Skunt was frothing in anger and exertion, his face a mask of anger. ‘Betrayed! BETRAYED!’ he bellowed.

I skidded to a halt and bustled Skunt and Dawn into a side-room. It contained Sontaran laundry, and stank even worse than the rest of the ship.

‘We must join forces to neutralise that Rutan,’ I said. ‘Agreed?’

Skunt nodded, his piggy Sontaran eyes burning red. Skunt grimaced. ‘It would be the strategic thing to do.’

‘Great!’ I rubbed my hands together. ‘Now, how are we gonna get rid of our blobby friend?’

‘What if,’ panted Dawn, a look of dogged monomania on her sweaty face, ‘I set light to one of my own faaaaaAAAAAARTS?!’

I shook my head. ‘No, the Rutan would probably enjoy that.’

‘I would rather your companion did NOT emit anything further from its anal orifice,’ rumbled Skunt, fixing me with a baleful stare.

‘I can’t guarantee that,’ I muttered, gazing ruefully down at the perspiring lump .

Skunt shoved me aside. ‘Honour demands that I face the Rutan scum in single combat.’

‘Oh, that good old Sontaran honour. Always got to face your enemies, because of your probic vents – the small hole at the back of your necks through which you take in the energy that sustains you,’ I added, for Dawn’s benefit. Not that she seemed to care - she was busy exploring her fingernails for pie residue.

Skunt shoved me aside, roaring in anger. ‘Raaaagh!’

‘But you haven’t GOT any probic vents!’ I cried, pointing at the back of the Sontaran Commander’s collar. ‘I knew there was something odd about you! You’re not Sontarans – what are you?!’

Dawn screamed as Skunt picked me up by my lapels. ‘I AM a Sontaran and I will prove it by strategically destroying my enemy!’

So saying Skunt chucked me into a pile of Sontaran vests and stomped away.

I extricated myself. ‘Now, Dawn – your silly plan about igniting your farts has given me an idea.’

‘Has it?’ said Dawn disinterestedly, intently examining something she’d found under her thumbnail. ‘Oh. When can I have more planet pie?’

‘Not now,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘We need to find the Sontaran armoury.’

‘I’d rather find the canteen,’ chuntered Dawn predictably.

We set off warily along the corridor, and found the armoury. I armed myself with a grenade launcher, reasoning that should be able to blast the Rutan into little jellified bits – and deal with Skunt, should that became necessary.

A green glow shone creepily somewhere ahead. There was no sound of battle, only a fizzing crackling noise and a smell akin to fried pork which made Dawn drool incontinently.

We turned the corner to see the Rutan, still in its sparky blobular formation, poised over the charred body of Skunt, ready to deliver the death blow.

I immediately fired the grenade launcher at the Rutan. It plunged deep inside the gelatinous mass, then exploded. There was a weird electronic howl and then green gloop everywhere. It was like the aftermath of a bizarre alien bukkake party.

I tossed the grenade launcher to the floor and walked over to where Skunt lay.
He was still alive – just.

‘We got it,’ I said softly. ‘Honour is satisfied.’

Skunt grimaced. ‘Thank you... Doctor Skagra. And so – I die... but... my mission is accomplished, and the Rutan host will never know the secret.’

I coopied down beside the dying clone warrior – not noticing Dawn slip away. ‘Yes, what WAS your plan? Has it got anything to do with your un-Sontaran lack of probic vents?’

Skunt gargled and coughed. ‘Yes. I... we... are a glorious offshoot faction of the Sontaran Empire. Years ago, on an expedition to the Noodlesphere, we discovered the joys of food. Sensual pleasures... pies... pasties... crisps... cakes... ice cream... CURRY! We augmented ourselves so that we could obtain sustenance from food rather than raw energy.’

‘Sontaran epicures. I’ve seen it all now. So THAT’S why you were so affected by Dawn’s farts! Normal Sontarans don’t eat so they can’t taste or smell - but you can!’

‘Yes. Your companion’s rectal emissions are poison to us.’

Skunt gurgled in pain and his three-fingered hand clutched my knee. ‘Sontaran... High Command... saw our actions as heresy, and exiled us. They call us the Shame of the Sontarans.’ Skunt grimaced in anger. ‘And for decades we have been searching for this place – the gourmand’s Nirvana, the fabled Pie Planet, Ginsters’ World.’

‘And now you’ve found it, it’s too late – you’re dying...’

Commander Skunt’s eyes gleamed redly for one last time. ‘Not too late! I – I have summoned the rest of the Sontaran Strategic – SNACK Squadron, and they will soon be here!’ Skunt hissed and grinned.

‘Well in that case I hope you don’t mind if I’m off,’ I said, but Skunt didn’t hear me. He was dead.

I stood up and left the ship. The giant Scotch Egg cast a long shadow, in which sat Dawn, steadily gorging.

‘Our work here is done.’ I gazed up at the sky. ‘And I hope they make it.’

‘Who makes what?’ blurted Dawn through a mouthful of pastry and meat.

‘Come on.’

‘No! I’m staying here!’

I was tempted to let her stay, but I couldn’t leave her to the Sontarans, even nice ones, so I dragged her kicking and screaming towards my TARDIS.

It was a losing battle until I had a bright idea. ‘Look, I promise to take you to, um, Cadburia, Planet of Chocolate!’ I cried.

Dawn immediately ceased her struggling, and scampered grotesquely into the TARDIS.

I followed and set the fast return switch. As the central column began to rise and fall, Dawn turned to face me, her eyes glassy and bovine, her scoop-jaw glistening with dribble. ‘Well, come on then! The Choco Planet! I’m still hungry, you smarmy tosser!’

I ignored the insult and smirked. ‘No such place. I made it up!’

Too late, I realised my mistake. Dawn launched herself at me, snarling like a rabid boar on heat. Thinking quickly I activated the localised dispenser scoop and teleported her off my TARDIS to Rassilon knows where. Hopefully somewhere safe, I didn’t really wish her any harm.

I returned to Cardiff a few hours earlier than I had departed and had to hang around until I left. I watched myself enter my TARDIS with Dawn and felt like shouting out a warning, but that would have buggered up the timelines, or something. I went back to the nightclub where Jack was waiting for me, a big grin on his stupid face, so I gave him a Chinese burn, the cunt. Then we went back to the Torchwood hub and had bum fun with Ianto. I was Lucky Pierre, so after all that the evening ended rather well.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 18:49, 41 replies)

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TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL;DR. TL
( da5id <YOUR SIG HERE>, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 20:33, closed)

What he said
I got to line 6 and was getting bored, so I scrolled down and saw how egotistically overlong it was and realised that no punchline would be worth that much of my life.
(Colonel Blink is now officially a pretentious prick, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 21:06, closed)

I'd rather read this out loud that read the OP

(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 11:04, closed)

I've not read it - obviously -
but I'm impressed by the commitment displayed here.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 21:51, closed)

It wasn't till I got to the end..
I was going to ask - isn't Captain Jack a poofter?
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 22:13, closed)

No
he's as straight as you or me.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 22:47, closed)

He's certainly fucking shit.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 22:58, closed)

No
he just uses beanjuice as a lubricant sometimes.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 23:02, closed)

John Barrowman's heading to your place in drag right now!

(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 23:20, closed)

As promised, CLICK :)
Not quite a full page though. What's the limit on these things?
Also. Sontaran Laundry?
(searlichek, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 22:33, closed)

These weren't normal Sontarans
remember.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 22:47, closed)

( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 22:57, closed)

Ah
Field Marshal Pi Ckles.

And David Cameron is an Auton, you know.

And George Osborne? Naah... just a cunt.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 23:04, closed)

I can believe that David Cameron
is a souless peice of plastic out to destroy the planet.
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 15:57, closed)

Go and take a long walk in the briny deep.
(Benzyl, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 23:15, closed)

Sea
Devils
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 23:18, closed)

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 0:43, closed)

I can't tell if this is a misguided attempt at performance art
Or the actions of a chronically lonely person.
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Mon 21 Oct 2013, 7:21, closed)

Arrant nonsense!
It's that OTHER Time Lord Doctor who is lonely, the 'lonely god' etc etc waah waaah blubble.

I have LOADS and LOADS of friends like Captain Jack, River Song, Sergeant Benton and Broton, War Lord of the Zygons.

So ner!

And should the need ever arise, I can alter the outer plasmic shell of my TARDIS so that it resembles a Honda Accord.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 19:57, closed)

(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 10:42, closed)

THAT'S NUMBERWANG!

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 18:07, closed)

TL;DR
I'd rather piss in my own mouth
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 10:43, closed)

I'm sorry...

But when the likes of me is saying TL;DR, then you have a serious problem.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 21 Oct 2013, 10:50, closed)

fuck me
Are you aiming for a page for yourself?
(TL:DR)
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 15:55, closed)

This isn't as good as the one with the pink rabbit in it
(cs1ca, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 17:31, closed)

I am browsing this on my phone, and proper fucked my thumb scrolling past all this shit.

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 18:08, closed)

pwnt
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 20:40, closed)

The more words you post,
and the fewer people read it, the happier you are. You're going to achieve nirvana shortly before you get permanently banned for flooding.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 20:07, closed)

No, I do not believe that!
You all love my stories.

Length isn't important. Each story is as long as it needs to be. The next one might be shorter; it might be even longer. Depends on the subject, and whether or not I have life experiences to match (I usually do).

Posting on here is one of the few pleasures of being trapped on your miserable little planet!

You all LOVE my stories. You ALL love my stories. You all love MY stories.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 20:21, closed)

I genuinely liked the facilities support unit one.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 20:41, closed)

Sincere
thanks :)
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 20:46, closed)

There
You have a reader. Take good care of him.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 21:05, closed)

Soz everyone
feeling a bit hormonal, think a regeneration is due.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 19:49, closed)

I love them.
Your fans want longer please. :)
(searlichek, Wed 23 Oct 2013, 13:32, closed)

Aw thanks
That more than makes up for all the miserable cunts around here.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Wed 23 Oct 2013, 18:54, closed)