Lord President Skagra
Once, a long time ago in the Constellation of Kasterborous (very far from here), before I left Gallifrey, I was, briefly, Lord President of the High Council of Time Lords.

This was after President Saran resigned over the Morbius affair (he called it a wrap) which caused a constitutional crisis. Saran had been Vice-President at the start of all the bother but was quickly promoted to full President once Morbius had turned against the Time Lords. Trouble was, Morbius’s name hadn’t been fully excised from the APC Net so he was still, technically, President after Saran’s resignation. I agreed to step in as ‘Caretaker President’ whilst the Cardinals sorted all this out. I ruled for only a few days, and was eventually replaced by that vacuous nonentity Jasten. But for a few days, I was Lord President of Gallifrey, Supreme Ruler of the Time Lords, the most powerful being in the Universe!

My expectations were as high as the roof of the Panopticon. As President, one is afforded unrestricted access to the Matrix, the sum total of all the knowledge of the Time Lords, and therefore the biggest library of pan-dimensional porn, and, indeed, poon, in the entire Universe. One also got to wear snazzy, flowing, glittering white and gold robes, wear the Sash of Rassilon, wear the Crown of Rassilon, wear a big chair on one’s bonce, bash the Cardinals on *their* bonces with the Rod of Rassilon, play the Harp of Rassilon, and fuck the Catamites of Rassilon

Time Lord Presidents were also immune from prosecution so could fuck and torture and slaughter with impunity. One also had access to the Time Vaults, the Omega Arsenal, Shada, the Game of Rassilon, the Drinks Cabinet of Rassilon and the Sacred Jazzmags of Rassilon. And the Pizza Oven of Rassilon – I’m joking, he was never that lame; it was a Tandoori Oven.

Mint!

But immediately after my investiture, I was sitting in my Presidential Office preparing to access the Matrix for some pre-teen Lurman bumsex, when Chancellor Thule burst in, leading a string of Chancellery Guards bearing piles and piles of papers.

‘What is the meaning of this insulting interruption?’ I spluttered.

‘Sorry, Lord President, Sir,’ said Chancellor Thule with a big fucking smirk on his face as the guards dumped all the papers on my desk. ‘It’s just that what with the Morbius business and now this constitutional clusterfuck, rather a lot of paperwork has built up.’

I rose to my feet and waved the guards away with an imperious flick of my Presidential wrist. ‘Well, fuck that! I have - more important duties to perform!’

‘With respect, Lord President, no, you haven’t. This lot has just got to be signed off. So make busy with the Seal of Rassilon, there’s a good boy.’

‘I am Lord President!’ I bellowed. ‘I refuse, and moreover, I’m gonna have you exiled to Earth your impertinent... impertinence!’

But Chancellor Thule just smirked. ‘Sorry, Skagra.’ With that he hot-footed it from my office. I made to follow him but found that he’d sealed the room in a chronic hysteresis! No way in our out – I couldn’t even send a message! I had no choice but to complete the paperwork to break the hysteresis.

I slumped into my Presidential chair and thumbed forlornly through the massive pile of papers. Time Travel permits... TARDIS licenses... temporal disputes... Panopticon canteen menus... it went on and on.

It took me two days to finish the lot and by then the crisis was over, and so was my Presidency.

Fucking cunts. That Morbius had the right idea, you know.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sat 10 May 2014, 21:12, 7 replies)

Dickhead
Self deluded dickhead
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Sat 10 May 2014, 23:25, closed)

As always, best answer so far this week. Have a click.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Sun 11 May 2014, 10:29, closed)

Does not contain enough 'splosions.

(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Mon 12 May 2014, 11:11, closed)

^+ or nudity.
Or Konnie Huq naked on a trampoline.
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Mon 12 May 2014, 11:28, closed)

Wait...
Konnie Huq comes in a "naked-on-trampoline" version?
Bloody Blue Peter... always cheaping out with the bog standard model.

Incidentally, her obscenely talented husband walked right past my desk a couple of weeks ago, and... get this... I didn't even notice.

:o(
(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Mon 12 May 2014, 20:38, closed)

or pickled onions

(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Wed 14 May 2014, 11:02, closed)