Phimrallax Alpha
A few weeks ago, when the question was ‘bad ideas’, you will all no doubt fondly remember that I posted that it was a bad idea to go to Phimrallax Alpha:

www.b3ta.com/questions/badideas/post2332906

However, I gave no reason not to go to Phimrallax Alpha other than: ‘it’s shit’.

Well! Thanks to this week’s question, I can now tell you exactly why it is a bad idea to go to Phimrallax Alpha, and exactly why the place is so utterly shit! Ooh, it’s an arc!! Clever me!!!

It was many moons ago and I was in another body, but I remember it well. Stupidly, in retrospect, I had decided to go to Phimrallax Alpha myself to see what all the non-fuss was about. I left my TARDIS on the orbital platform around the planet and took the shuttle down, so I could get the full experience of shitness, as it were. The shuttle was a rickety old thing powered by negative mass flux absorption – I know! – and as I strapped myself in, I instantly regretted my decision not to travel by TARDIS. As the shuttle blasted off – steady on there – I distracted myself by reading the brochure. ‘Rellax on Phimrallax!’ announced the garish cover in a font illegal on all civilized worlds, above a photo of a Draconian, a Zygon and a Slitheen frolicking on a beach, playing volleyball. The ball was the head of a Mutt. Lovely. Inside, I was disconcerted to see that a substantial portion of the contents was given over to a listing of brothels with prices and reviews, catering to all sexes and all races. If you wanted to have group sex with the Rutan host, frottle yourself on an Ogri, skullfuck a Monoid, or watch a shrieking human female be devoured by a Drashig whilst you watched and wanked – you could. Unfortunately, I was in a rather prudish incarnation at the time – other of my personae would have relished this carnival of depravity. So, disconcerted and feeling rather sick, I closed my eyes as the shuttle landed – bumpily – at Phimrallax City Spacedome.

As I exited the shuttle with all the other life forms – which included a bunch of drunken Sontarans, of which more later (and see here

www.b3ta.com/questions/britsabroad/post2269202

for my experiences with drunken Sontarans) – I was blasted by a wave of intense, crippling heat. At first I thought I had been exterminated by a Dalek or something, but it was just the Phimrallax climate. Now, I knew it was going to be hot, but not THAT hot. I managed to crawl out of the terminal – fighting off legions of prostitutes including a particularly persistent Exxilon – and into a taxi which, fortunately, had air conditioning, but which, unfortunately, was driven by the smelliest Ogron it has ever been my displeasure to meet.

I stared blearily out of the window at the Phimrallaxian landscape – it was just desert, shimmering under a throbulating heat-haze. Phimrallax is bathed in the light of three suns and it is never night; just perpetual, bright, blistering day. Worse, there is one hour of the day when the heat of the combined suns is so intense that any flesh-and-blood creature that happens to be outside at the time is roasted to a crisp. The Phimrallaxians are meant to have ‘sun alarms’ which sound well in advance of this period – but these are mostly broken, or missing. So woe betide any human-basics, though silicon-based life forms are all right.

The taxi dumped me at my hotel and I paid the Ogron, who kindly only ripped me off financially and not physically. I had booked myself into the poshest and best hotel on Phimrallax Alpha – the Mantrabon – but it was still a fucking shithole. Worse, an expensive fucking shithole. I was shown to my room by a morose native Phimrallaxian, who seemed to be permanently on the verge of tears. Phimrallaxians are like humanoid stick-insects, and are the most dejected, miserable, worthless, most abject beings I have ever encountered outside of b3ta.

My room – the Presidential suite – was spacious, I’ll give it that, but that was the only thing in its favour. It was shabby and filthy, and dust hung in the air like the stars of a dying galaxy. There was a strong odour of sweat and putrescence, as if something had crawled away in a corner to die several months previously. As I stood there, my clothes soaked through with sweat, I heard a tiny alarm bleat and a few seconds later, a gale of white light poured in through the window which instantly darkened so as to save me from being roasted alive. It was the only thing in the room that worked, I was soon to discover.

I went into the bathroom with heavy hearts, dreading what I might see. The toilet was a fearsome affair, clearly designed to support the buttocks of heavier life forms such as Ice Warriors, and was fitted with a ‘T-Mat Flush’ which teleported the waste away. I had heard gruesome stories about people dying horribly in these contraptions from having their lower regions accidentally zapped away so no way was I using that. Additionally, it was full to the brim with diarrhoea, so it clearly didn’t work. I closed the lid softly, almost reverently, over the foulage, and went to the sink.

I glanced into the mirror above the sink, and gasped in shock. Instead of my reflection, I saw the savage stone face of a Weeping Angel glaring back at me! I stood there not blinking for ages until I realised it was just a hologram some cunt had put there as a prank. Charming. I tried the taps – of course, they didn’t work. The cold tap let forth a trickle of sand, then nothing; and the hot tap produced nothing but a series of shuddering, desultory moans and groans – rather like b3ta. Ha ha! Satire!

Worse was to come. On the wall next to the sink was a laminated sign bearing the message ‘Do Not Smear Bogeys Over This Notice’, with bogeys smeared all over it.

Next to this sign was a collection of graffiti: ‘Broton, War Lord of the Zygons, woz here’, ‘King Peladon is A Gaylord’, ‘Davros suck Ogron dick”, ‘I fucked River Song up the ass here, and sprayed my semen all over my face, hair and tits’, etc, etc (actually, that last one will be a future incarnation of me – I recognised the handwriting - though why I will return to Phimrallax Alpha, I have no idea – I certainly don’t intend to).

I wandered back into the bedroom. The bed looked fine but when I pulled the covers back I saw that that the sheets were plastered with thick, black, sticky hairs. It looked the aftermath of a particularly enthusiastic rutting session between a pair of Taran Wood Beasts. I replaced the covers and walked over to o the window through which I could just about make out the forms of a half-dozen Ogri and a couple of Kastrians frolicking on the sands in the pulverising heat of the three suns.

I felt a sudden compulsion to run outside with them and run through the rest of my regenerations in burning, excoriating agony.

I then unpacked, and in putting my things away, found the source of the rotting smell – at the bottom of the wardrobe, a Shrivenzile had curled up and died, clearly many weeks ago. I didn’t blame it.

As I stared at the rotting corpse, from the room above came a relentless stomping as of many drunken booted feet. Stentorian cries of ‘Sontar-HA! Sontar-HA!’ filtered down from above.

My urge for oblivion peaked, and I made my way down to the bar, ignoring the legions of prostitutes that flung themselves at me at every opportunity. At the bar, I ordered two bottles of the most evil alcoholic beverage I could find – Ribosian vodka fruit wine – and set to them with gusto. I then started on the Space Stella, and sank about 15 pints of that. My memories of that night are hazy, but I think I drank myself almost to the point of regeneration.

I woke the next morning with the most stinking hangover I have ever experienced, with the Sontarans STILL thumping and chanting from the floor above. That’s two holidays the cloned cunts had ruined! I had shat the bed, I noted with grim satisfaction as I rose.

I went down to the restaurant for breakfast, only to be told by the miserable Phimrallaxian maitre d’, ‘Sorry, breakfast finish.’

That was IT. I summoned my TARDIS and got the hell away from the place without paying my bill.

So now you know why Phimrallax Alpha is shit.

Phimrallax Beta, though – now, that is mint! But that’s another story.

LAIGH8T£RZ!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Wed 20 Aug 2014, 22:47, 18 replies)

oh ffs
Dr Skagra - putting the "tard" in "tardis" since 2007
(Guy Debord cette mauvaise réputation..., Wed 20 Aug 2014, 23:04, closed)

HUH sweetie!
I'm very very clever.

You're the dumbo.

Are you a Sontaran by any chance?
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Wed 20 Aug 2014, 23:10, closed)

Are you a failed writer?

( spanishfly is so fucking sexy people impersonate him, Thu 21 Aug 2014, 1:37, closed)

I think he's a failed human being

( 2 Can Chunder Word to your mums, I came to prod bums, Thu 21 Aug 2014, 7:55, closed)

I'm Dr Skagra sweetie!
I never fail at ANYTHING!
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Thu 21 Aug 2014, 8:52, closed)

prick

( mr horrible up yours, dickface, Thu 21 Aug 2014, 7:14, closed)

Fantastic. I think you have been listening to David Sedaris and his trip to China.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Thu 21 Aug 2014, 7:26, closed)

Maybe before each post you can do a quick summary of what happened in all the previous episodes for people who want to catch up with the story so far. Then delete it, delete all your other posts, burn your computer and kill yourself.

( 2 Can Chunder Word to your mums, I came to prod bums, Thu 21 Aug 2014, 9:23, closed)

I think my "repeat-until-funny-tolerance" is on a different phase setting to everyone else's.
Because I'm still finding this shit kinda amusing, while they're all raging.
(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Thu 21 Aug 2014, 10:27, closed)