Faith No More

Sir Nigel Verkoff esquire, Kommisar of the new cargo cult The Order of Saint Macka the Usurper, talks with Ewen Campion-Clarke about life, God, the universe and his upcoming trial at Sydney Criminal Court

Nigel Verkoff does not look like the stereotypical view of a cult leader.

He is calm, collected, not prone to thunderous proclamations and his outfit is casual to say the least. A pair of denim jeans and a bright, neon-pink T-shirt with the words I AM WHAT WOMEN WANT (with the ‘I’ taking up most of the space) are not exactly the usual attire of religious leaders. Eyes hidden behind a pair of John Lennon spectacle sunglasses and with his beehive hairdo died peroxide blonde, he looks like a photo negative of some 1950s gay icon.

When I mentioned this to him, he called me a disgusting waste of DNA. Fair’s fair.

Appearances can be deceptive, but Verkoff’s history does not point to him as the sort of man to embrace any sort of religion, let alone style himself as the leader of a cult that misspelled the word ‘Saint’ for the first six months of their campaign.

Adopted at six weeks of age by the upper class Yang family, Aborigine Verkoff was clearly a fish out of water at home – exacerbated no doubt by his open courting of his sister, to whom he still regularly sends love tokens and used underwear.

"The past is a graveyard which need never be revisited," Verkoff opines thoughtfully over a chocolate milkshake. "Unless there’s a plague of zombie rats or something. No, I’ve restarted my life. You only have to look at my name – I used to be called Nigella Yang, but that part of me is dead and gone forever. One tick of a deed poll and I’m a new man."

Why exactly did he choose the surname ‘Verkoff’?

"Yeah, that’s a bit of a sore point. I was filling in the form at the pub, and I was chatting up the barmaid. She was obviously insane, but I respect them being released into the community so soon. They either sink or go under. No, wait, that’s wrong..."

Why was she insane?

"She didn’t want to sleep with me. Anyway, she took offence and wrote... er... something very rude on the form. I managed to convince people it’s pronounced ‘Ver Kov’ rather than ‘Far Koff’."

But why not simply change his name by deed poll again?

"I never thought of that," Verkoff admits after several minutes’ thought.

Moving on, what exactly is the core belief of The Order of Saint Macka the Usurper and what does it have to offer to ordinary Australians. "All religions are basically variations on the one pattern," Verkoff explains sagely. "One force creates the universe and everything in it, and the only way we can understand this and reach paradise once we die is to behave in a certain manner. Get it? Got it? Good. Oddly enough, every single religion works on the principal that it is the only true religion and all the others are misguided, wrong or out and out lies. Now, The Order of Saint Macka the Usurper is unique in the fact that, as a religion, it believes itself to be a pack of lies and all other religions to be correct, even if they contradict each other." He taps his nose with woozy cunning. "Clever, eh?"

And how in the name of all that is sane does this work?

"Well, say you wished to join The Order – and, looking at you, son, I think it might be a case of ‘too little, too late’ – after paying all the required duties, and making a contribution to the parish fund, I’d spin you a yarn about Atlantis, aliens, nuclear testing and angels. And," he continues, looking left and right to make sure no one’s looking, which is pointless as we are alone in his tree house, "if you believed so much as one word of it, you wouldn’t be allowed in."

Would I get my money back?

"Course not. If you believed it, you’d be a fool and a fool and his money are soon parted. God, are you mental or something?"

But what are the benefits of the Order?

"Depending on the amount of the donation you give, you will rise through the echelons [Verkoff mispronounces it as ‘etch-lions’] of the Order. There’s sergeants, inspectors, superintendents, detectives... no. Wait. That’s the police force. Sorry. Uh, the ranks in the Order are warrant officer, brigadier, sorry. That’s the army. In the Order, I am the Kommmisar, absolute ruler of the Order, High Lord of the Sexual Air Supply, Controller of the Supreme High Council of the Oompa-Loompas, President Elect of the Lower Order of Ice Cream Venders, Protector of the Legacy of Tarintino and Defender of Uluru.. Below me are... just about everyone really. There are Castellans, Coordinators, Cardinals and under them the most multitudinous and malevolent of all. The gofers. They are people whose contributions don’t break the five thousand mark. There are more of them out there than you think."

I point out that at last count the membership of the Order numbered in the tens.

"Pah," Verkoff jeers. "Semantics. I thought you were a serious journalist. The Order of Saint Mazza the Usurper—"

‘Macka’, I correct.

"Whatever! The Order is a serious movement for those concerned about the problems facing the Earth and the people on it. It’s the only planet we have. In fact, it’s the only planet there is!"

I can think of a few astronomers that would argue about that.

"What? Have you been to any of them? You just see a few pictures of Saturn in a school book and take it for Gospel. For crying out loud, that sort of gullibility would get you chucked out of the Order. We call your sort ‘Ye of too much faith’."

The Order was created by Verkoff on 15th of May 2002 based on the holy text What I Did On My Christmas Holidays by Verkoff himself. From a rental of the local Masonic Centre to its own prime time public access TV hour, the Order still does not carry the same weight as the Christian Church or Bhuddism to name but two. Indeed, the two members of the order that admitted their religion on the census form were fined for not taking the project seriously. Verkoff scoffs at the idea that more people claim to be ‘Jedi’ rather than ‘Usurperists’, but doesn’t say much else about it and indeed changes the topic.

"Of course, public awareness of the Order has sky-rocketed in the last year," Verkoff boasts, making a rare trip to the reality the rest of us inhabit. "Surrender to Your God with Nigel Verkoff is the highest rated informercial in its time slot and that’s a fact. Just a pity we couldn’t get it broadcast any later than five in the morning. But with only five episodes, you’d have to be bowel-shatteringly insane not to say we’ve made an impact."

That is certainly true with over thirteen TV critics listing Surrender to Your God with Nigel Verkoff as Show of the Week, with their only criticism being the ungodly hour the episodes were screened yet. However, it must be pointed out that Surrender to Your God with Nigel Verkoff was mistakenly believed to be an adult comedy with topical religious satire as its cornerstone. Verkoff himself was nominated for a Logie after his roll call of people who he had cured using the power of faith and positive thinking, especially when the unimpressed audience discovered he was bluffing this speech with a copy of the Yellow Pages and a medical dictionary.

"Philistines," is all Verkoff has to say on the matter before abruptly changing his mind yet again. "That show was made with a shoestring budget, broadcast live. I had to, out of my own pocket, pay the audience members to turn up. Half of them weren’t even members of the Order. Do you know how off-putting it is to have the floor crew singing Abide With Me? To have the audience sitting there, sobbing in silence? To have drama students thanking me after my two-hour long dissertation on the history of Atlantis and the nature of Hollow Earth in relation to the French nuclear testing? I suffered for my art, and those morons in the press assumed it was a stand up comedy act. How these people got to where they are today beggars my imagination. And my imagination isn’t begged easily."

I note that of the several jobs that Verkoff is recorded to have had before starting the Order, nearly every attempt was made to become a TV reviewer for the local paper. On one attempt he was trying to make his own newspaper, The Irish Racist, which was never seriously taken up. Is this a case of sour grapes on Verkoff’s part to be ridiculed by the very profession he was desperate to achieve?

"Well, come on. Everyone wants to be a TV reviewer. Or a porn star. Or both. Why do you think Big Brother gets so many contestants? To get paid for sitting on your arse and doing what comes naturally is the Australian ideal, the Ozzie Destiny if you’ll pardon the pun."

What pun?

"Wasn’t there one? Sorry. I mean, we may all think putting down your occupation as ‘sperm donor’ is incredibly pathetic and immature, but that guy is having a lot more fun than ‘inner city banker’, ‘rat catcher’ or ‘one-legged Tarzan impressionist’. Now, enough of these digressions. Where were we?"

We were here. We haven’t moved.

"Leave the humor to the experts, duck face," Verkoff spits on the floor.

Surrender to Your God with Nigel Verkoff is no longer being produced or broadcast, however several copies of the last episode are now highly sought after by fans, members and above all the police. During the last episode, Verkoff took faith healing to the next level in what the tabloids dubbed as ‘Slaughterhouse Savior’.
Just what possessed Nigel Verkoff – a man who even his best friends would describe as a ‘complete and total See You Next Tuesday’ – to start shooting innocent people live on television in front of not only an entire studio audience but a home audience increased to six million people by favorable reviews in the Junior Gazette?

"I am not a psychopath," says Verkoff with a surprising earnestness. "I took no joy in the shootings. I was as scared at any one and was as sickened as the next man when it became clear it wasn’t just flesh wounds. I was the one who called the ambulance, after all."

Only after the third victim died, I remind him.

"That was a tragedy and in no way my intention or the intention of the Order. How was I to know the idiot was a hemophiliac? Why didn’t he tell us? He’d be alive today if he was a bit more forward with that info!"

Maybe he would have had he known he was going to be shot?

"I couldn’t have revealed that information. It was reality television and it was what the public expected – real emotions, real fear, real desperation..."

Real corpses?

"I have more than enough visual and printed evidence to show I aimed to wound, to disable, never to kill. If those morons hadn’t started running around and screaming, my aim would have been better."

I point out he shot his own floor manager who was not part of the sequence in any way at all.

"Well, that was an accident. It was good he was appealing for calm. It was just that I wanted to appeal for calm as well and fired two warning shots."

Into his head?

"He moved. Had he stayed perfectly still, he might have got off with a fractured kneecap."

The question is, of course, why did Verkoff bring a group of audience members on stage and then go crazy with a loaded firearm? Verkoff who, as the massacre demonstrated, had no prior use or even inclination to use firearms? A man who was unable to perform even the most basic of nipple cripples? Why kill seven people?

"It was eight actually. A fiancé of one of the victims committed suicide," Verkoff corrects absently. "You see, this entire situation was forced onto us by the press."

So Verkoff is blaming the media for his use of a gun?

"No, I’m blaming the media for forcing me into the position where I needed a gun to use. You see, as you should point out in your article if you have even the slightest shred of journalistic integrity, the media assumed we were some comedic variety act. The penultimate episode, where I brought on all those healed, former-sufferers, was treated as a complete joke."

A very funny one.

"That doesn’t make it better, boy!" Verkoff snarls.

The sequence in question was in the fourth episode, just after Verkoff slipped a mordant epileptic some hallucinatory drugs and performed an ‘exorcism’ ("That was a valid reconstruction," Verkoff opines. "At no point did I claim it was the genuine devil. Apart from that one time. But hell, it convinced me."). Verkoff brought forth twelve people he knew had suffered childhood diseases and claimed that the power of Saint Macka the Usurper had cleared them of their horrible ailment. Eleven of them ridiculed this and called Verkoff a ‘lying, cheating bastard fraud’ and the remaining victim giggled uncontrollably.

"I can understand their criticism. We’ve all seen some fraud bump into a quadriplegic with syphilis, a head cold, no facial features and leprosy, lay their hands on the poor git’s head and say ‘What ails you, my child?’ and they say ‘What do you bloody reckon?!’ and then suddenly they can walk, and dance and sing and praise the word of the lord. Sure. The fact we saw the cripple lap-dancing before the show is quietly ignored.

"That was why I came up with the plan. I brought out genuine members of the audience, who I had never met before in my life, lined them up and got out the gun. No one, and I mean no one is going to think it was a set up. I maimed complete strangers live on stage. The wounds were real, the reactions real, and the faith healing would be real."

Verkoff never did get round to the faith healing part, though, did he?

"I couldn’t have just gone, ‘Whoops! Get an ambulance!’ could I? I’m a faith healer. These hands heal using the power of Saint Macka the Usurper – I’m talking crap, I hope you realize this, gullibility-brains – and the moment I call a mortal man to heal is the moment the grass-munching pig-ignorant public realize what a fraud I am!"

Isn’t that the point?

"In the long run, yes, but I wanted the audience to work it out for themselves. That’s why I held back the emergency services until the first one died. And, to be honest, I claim no responsibility for that death. OK, I shot him through the kidney, but I wasn’t the smart arse who shouted "LET ME THROUGH, I’M AN AROMA THERAPIST!" and started applying lavender oil to the wound, am I?"

With all the witnesses to testify how upset and desperate to help Verkoff was after the shooting, one would think that Verkoff might have a chance in hell in his upcoming trial of not going to jail. However, while only three people were shot during the show, the rest were still mortally wounded by Verkoff using golf clubs, a boom mike, the inflatable plastic furniture which is the signature of Surrender to Your God with Nigel Verkoff’s set design.

"After the first four shots, I had no intention of still firing the gun. It went off the remaining two times, I can assure you," he says with no real gravity. "I dropped the gun, kicked it out of harm’s way and immediately directed the police to it when they arrived. However, the show had to go on, so I continued to injure and beat the remaining participants with less immediately lethal weapons. In fact, I’m not sure I should be telling you this, but one of the main points of my defense is that I am not directly responsible for the death of five of the victims. Not only was one a suicide, the rest were only killed after the lighting scaffolding fell on top of them and crushed them to death. Just because one of my stray bullets is responsible for that, it’s entirely inadmissible."

I point out that at least one of the victims was found suffocated by Verkoff’s inflatable armchair.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I forgot all about that! Thanks." Verkoff shakes his head in wonderment. "That totally dropped out below my radar. Thanks for that, mate, that’s a good point to know before the court case. Man, I’d be stuffed if the prosecutor noticed that before I did. I owe you one. Do you want everlasting life?"

Ask me again in 500 years.

"OK, how about a book token? Or a free autographed pen?"

Assuming the so-unlikely-as-to-count-as-a-miracle event of Verkoff leaving that court case a free man, will he continue his association with the Order of Saint Macka the Usurper? Or start another career?

"Well, whatever happens in court, it’s got to be worth a book deal with Allen and Unwin. I’m made either way, but with a personality like mine can you imagine any reasonably-impartial jury will find me guilty."

Without doubt, I say.

"Yeah, well, you’re gullible. We established this at the start of the interview. Once the book’s published, I’ll be taking a sabbatical in my duties as Kommisar. The Order of Saint Macka the Usurper will be torn apart by internal strife and I shall salvage the wreckage to collect any more donations made during the intervening weeks. After that, I have another religion in the pipeline: the Church of the Later-Day Nymphomaniacs with me as Arch Deacon. For any Usurperist, the Church of the Later-Day Nymphomaniacs will offer the same spiritual and financial benefits, however, I should point out that joint membership will be charged double. Get it? Got it? Good. After that, well, maybe I’ll have enough experience and patience to pursue my career goals of TV reviewer and porn star. Imagine that – I could review myself. What a wonderful world we live in."

However, it appears that the police I called for when Verkoff approached me for this interview have finally arrived. Verkoff moves to climb out the window and make a break for the local railway station, intending to flee to Manly via a ferry from Circular Quay.

One final question – why did the Order petition parliament to replace Advance Australia Fair with No Milk Today by Herman’s Hermitts as the Australian national anthem? Was it some spiritual decision? Or because No Milk Today is obviously the better song?

"What a stupid question," Verkoff sneers and makes a break for it.

Depending on the outcome of his trial – assuming the police recapture him in time to attend it – our concept of Sir Nigel Verkoff esquire is hard to define. A modern-day religious icon? A notorious fraudster? A man with a unique perception about how humanity views its own reality? A dangerous lunatic with delusions of grandeur?

But what he can’t be pegged as is unAustralian.

Nigel Verkoff's "Faith Dealer"

Serial 8S – Faith Dealer
An Alternate Program Guide By Ewen Campion-Clarke
Twenty-Fourth Entry in EC Unauthorized Guide O' "MAN! This is some GOOD shit here!"

D O C T O R W H O
Serial 8S – Faith Dealer

Part One – Lark Dreams

As Steve Foxx begins to outline the latest Double The Fist challenge that the Doctor, Charley and C'Rizz must complete in order to regain their TARDIS, C'Rizz suddenly collapses. Erotic images play out in his mind as the corrupting presence of the Doctor and Charley overload his pubescent libido.

As C'Rizz convulses and twitches on the floor, Foxx decides that he can no longer stand the Eutermesan and that the next TRUE mission for the Doctor and Charley is to get rid of their erstwhile companion forever. Oddly enough, the duo were already planning to do this.

C'Rizz finally recovers and, after a quick change of underwear, is ready to hear the challenge. Foxx announces that the trio must head to the planet Multi-Market, a world of stores and franchises where numerous shops interact peacefully.

"This MAKES ME SICK!" Foxx screams.

With their mission to destroy this utopia utmost in their minds, the Doctor, Charley and C'Rizz arrive on Multi-Market. The complex is so large and densely packed that to enter you actually must be starting up a business or already be working for an existing franchise.

Multi-Market is watched over by the Boring Man, a dull accountant that balances the fringe stores and major retailers in the complex. The Boring Man's Assistant (BMA), a camp Welsh stereotype, asks the newcomers to identify the business they represent, and the Doctor explains that he and Charley run a pet's store with C'Rizz as their mascot for handing out leaflets.

C'Rizz tries to argue this point, only for Charley to grab his crotch in order to shut him up. This instead prompts another sickening sexual fantasy, and C'Rizz faints, moaning.

Extremely embarrassed, the BMA allows the trio to jump the queue and meet the Boring Man herself! Yes, this woman was so boring when she accidentally appointed herself as a man, no one was interested enough to correct her.

The Doctor explains to the Boring Man that they need to dump C'Rizz in some dead end job and run like hell, and the Boring Man happily guides them to the nearest McDonalds who are after new staff.

The dazed C'Rizz can't cook, but the store manager assures him that culinary skills are not necessary. There he meets a Goth Eutermesan chick called L'da, the neighbor C'Rizz has been fantasizing about all episode. As she's into self-abnegation and torture, L'da is prepared to start a relationship with C'Rizz.

Elsewhere in the Multi-Market, Mr. Parrot, proprietor of the pet food store is having tea and jelly baby's at Honest Doc's LSD Jelly Babies, a theme restaurant run by the boggle-eyed Fourth Doctor.

The Fourth Doctor offers Parrot some 'lucid crystals' he physically harvested from the dreams of his followers but Parrot correctly identifies as some week-old jelly babies.

Annoyed, the Fourth Doctor lassos Parrot and drags him into his TARDIS, where he is placed in a glass tube flooded with mysterious mind-altering drugs.

The Fourth Doctor's current bitch, Gerbil Jones, doesn't see the point in this – and she's right, there isn't one bar the fact the Fourth Doctor has taken up the hobby of drugging dignified businessmen and letting them wander the streets for a laugh.

As the Eighth Doctor and Charley explore the Multi-Market, they rejoice at finally ditching C'Rizz. The Doctor explains he knows for a fact that Devious Dan's Homemade Police Boxes is somewhere around here – and where else would you hide a TARDIS stuck in the shape of one? All they have to do is find the shop, break inside and find where Foxx has hidden the TARDIS and they are out of here!

Back at McDonalds, L'da and C'Rizz are exchanging anguished metaphors when the Fourth Doctor and his fellow Jelly Baby warriors storm the restaurant and wait in line for Happy Meals, chanting their own Gregorian chant which is just "Daylight comes and I wanna go home" sung in an extremely pompous manner.
Bored, the Fourth Doctor starts handing out LSD-soaked sweets to everyone and it doesn't take long for all the customers to freak out and are off their face...

...and C'Rizz, deep within his trance, finds himself making the beast with two back-plates once again. But this time, it's for real.


Part Two – Seeing the Blight

The Doctor is bragging to Charley about how he plans to redecorate the interior of the TARDIS in an "Event Horizon Farscape organic funk groove style" when they find the nearest McDonalds ransacked and now populated by stoned wasters painting rainbows over the golden arches.

The Boring Man wanders onto the scene, sees the devastation, shrugs and wanders off, putting it down to the activities of the Jelly Baby warriors, lead by a weirdo called 'the Doctor'.

C'Rizz and L'da, meanwhile, have realized they were just given placebos and head to find the Fourth Doctor and complain. The Fourth Doctor decides to offer them a free trip in his Psychedelic Corkscrew. By this time, C'Rizz and L'da is willing to try anything...

The Eighth Doctor realizes that his Fourth self must have frequented this universe several times. When Charley demands to know why the Eighth Doctor doesn't already know this, the Time Lord replies:
"You'll know when you meet him. I've no idea what I was on back then and the scary thing is that HE doesn't know either!"

The Doctor loses his way in the mall and puts it down to some extra-sensory powers making him doubt his own sense of direction. Charley just asks for direction at the local Ludicrous Compensation Claims Court, who worship Whoops the Great Neglecter, and praise accidents and chaos of all kinds for the law suits they create.

The Fourth Doctor shows them the remains of Mr. Parrot, now a whimpering, terrified shell of a man who can barely recall his own name after his chemical dumping. L'da immediately asks for some of whatever he's having, as she feels it will help exorcise her inner demons or at least throw them into sharp relief.

However, she asks C'Rizz to note her behavior for her autobiography and to do that he has to stay sober. Furious, he turns and kills Parrot with the handy hat stand standing nearby.

The Fourth Doctor, meanwhile, goes to the rave in the console room and rings up the Boring Man to tell her what she's missing. After five wrong numbers and an order for pizza, and suggests she lighten up. He makes it quite clear that his 'suggestion' was a not-so-veiled threat.

While searching for Devious Dan's Homemade Police Boxes, the Doctor and Charley stumble into a riot of tripping customers and retail workers handing out flowers, dancing and vomiting and throwing their hands up in the air like they just – don't – care!

Charley spots C'Rizz nearby and tries to run in a different direction, but the Eutermesan is in a real bitch of a mood and, sexual frustration already getting the better of him, decides to throttle Charley there and then, laughing like a madman...


Part Three – Hash Truths

The Doctor returns and watches, amused, as C'Rizz tries to shatter Charley's neck and then decides to head butt the Eutermesan unconscious. Unfortunately, C'Rizz's armored forehead does the Doctor more injury and so the Time Lord is forced to resort to his electric-cattle-prod-finger-jab.

The Doctor and Charley then decide to return to the Ludicrous Compensation Claims Court and file a claim against the Fourth Doctor and the Jelly Baby warriors.

Director Garfield doesn't have much hope of a case, as C'Rizz admits that this is the second time in recent memory that he's tried to kill Charley out of sexual frustration. However, although the LCCC is built on such flimsy excuses for court cases, most of the staff have attended the rave in the Fourth Doctor's TARDIS.

Thus, Garfield is forced to send the Doctor and Charley over their to give the Fourth Doctor a subpoena – unfortunately, LCCC is fresh out of them and so the Doctor must bluff his way with a wine list.

They leave C'Rizz to Garfield's tender mercies, and, under the pretext of 'breaking a witness', ties C'Rizz up, attaches electrodes to his extremities and then prepares the Prosecution Probe...

The rave at the TARDIS is getting more extreme as more and more gatecrashers turn up, tune in and freak out. The Doctor and Charley arrive and denounce Honest Doc's LSD Jelly Babies as nothing more than a scam to get drifters high for sadistic amusement.

Charley points out that, if they sue the Fourth Doctor, surely that means the Doctor will ultimately have to pay himself the cash?

The Doctor protests that it's the PRINCIPLE of the thing that counts, then gives up and they head off to steal the TARDIS from the local police box retailer.

In the central offices, the Boring Man's Assistant decides to get a life and head to the rave party. The Boring Man wants to follow, but the BMA refuses to take her – she's a social embarrassment.

Just as C'Rizz is about to suffer the final humiliation, a hormone-driven L'da bursts into the room, breaks Garfield's head and begins to do very immoral and highly illegal things to the powerless C'Rizz...


Part Four – Faith Dealer

The Doctor and Charley are trying to break into Devious Dan's Homemade Police Boxes when they hear the naughty noises coming from Ludicrous Compensation Claims Court across the aisle and they watch on in disgust at the sight of two Eutermesans mating.

C'Rizz realizes that his companions are watching him and, when they heckle his sexual performance, he loses the flow and L'da turns on him. Amused, the Doctor and Charley return to breaking and entering.

Meanwhile, the party is winding down when the Boring Man finally arrives. The Fourth Doctor is unimpressed with the Boring Man's hand-jiving and produces a crackling glass of LSD milkshake and hands it to her to drink.
The Boring Man vaporizes as the two concepts cancel each other out.

The Fourth Doctor blinks, checks his drink, double-takes, shrugs, and starts doing the Funky Chicken with Gerbil.

The Multi-Market is now a ghost city, with the occasional advertising executive lying face down in their own sick, trousers round their ankles. Everyone else is partying bar the Eighth Doctor and Charley, who are now checking the police boxes for the one they need.

The TARDIS turns out to be the curiously-chubby, squared off version, identical to the one Foxx mocked the Doctor with at the conclusion of the last four-parter. Upon entering the hotel lobby-styled REG control room, Charley goes crazy – the fumes of the rave party have finally got to her. Before the Doctor can stop her, she starts operating controls.

The TARDIS dematerializes, fading away around the Doctor and Charley like a dream. Furious, the Doctor starts screaming and slapping Charley silly, but she's too far gone to pay attention.

Furious, the Doctor decides to steal his previous self's TARDIS and to hell with the time paradox. Storming there, he finds the only people still conscious are the Fourth Doctor, Gerbil, C'Rizz and L'da.

C'Rizz, seriously annoyed, decides to kill the Doctor and Charley, but the Doctor is in no mood for fannying about and Venusian finger-jabs the Eutermesan before rounding on the Fourth Doctor.

The Fourth Doctor explains it was just a holiday between companions that has all got out of hand and offers his Eighth self a jelly baby. Unfortunately, it's a trap – and when the Eighth Doctor recovers from the LSD trip, the Fourth Doctor has legged it in his TARDIS.

The Multi-Market is now in ruins, hundreds of the inhabitants of now either mentally sub-normal or hyper-alert and intelligent. What's more, L'da has decided to become the new Boring Man to fuel her artistic suffering. Sadly, this doesn't depress C'Rizz but simply makes him boast pompously that he has known true love (or at least great sex) and is thus a better person.

Seriously pissed off, the Doctor doesn't even wait for Foxx's disappointed summing up. Yes, they're weak. No, no fist. Yes, the Multi-Market will return and Foxx now still has the TARDIS.

"Get on with it!" the Doctor snaps.

Book(s)/Other Related –
Doctor Who – Return Of The Nutter In The Scarf
The Joint Venture II: This Time, It's Super-Freaky
The Warringah Mall Guide: "It's Not As Screwed-Up As Multi-Market in Doctor Who: Faith Dealer, But It's Close!"

Fluffs – Paul McGann seemed worryingly gullible during this story.
"When you've met as many pushers as I have there's a tendency to become a shade... of dunduckaty grey. With black spots."

Goofs –
Why on Earth does the Doctor trust himself not to have poisoned the drink he was handing over to him? Uh... DAMN IT, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!

Fashion Victims –
C'Rizz orange spectacles, skimpy purple T-shirt, crappy flea market pantaloons with purple triangle sewn in and open-toed sandals make him look like a French exchange student. With poor taste in clothes.

Technobabble –
The Multi-Market has an 'identical corridor matrix spread'.

Links and References -
The Doctor reveals his priorities are: to dump C'Rizz, escape Double the Fist, regain the TARDIS, return to his own universe and recover his missing pen (a reference to Full Frontal in Space, Peanut of the Dustbins and The Clean Breath)

Untelevised Misadventures -
The Doctor once caught the Terran Ague (or 3 Day Sweats) from Charley.

Groovy DVD Extras -
A recipe for Marijuana Gin. Well worth the price for Region 1 DVDs.

Dialogue Disasters -
4th Doctor: Who says religion has to have a spiritual dimension?
Gerbil: Uh, you did, actually.
4th Doctor: Did I really? How clever of me.
Gerbil: So, uh, religion DOES have to have spiritual dimension?
4th Doctor: Oh, don't listen to me. I never do.

Charley: How did you make so many police boxes?
Devious Dan: Lucidity made them tangible and belief made them real.
Charley: You followed the instructions.
Devious Dan: Well, yes. A bit.

Charley: Charley's Furry Store welcomes all and in the end all shall come. And THAT's a guarantee!

8th Doctor: If you're experiencing mental strain the last thing you need is someone giving you a god complex!
4th Doctor: Why not? Works wonders for me every time!

4th Doctor: The thing I've noticed about power is that it's ever so abuser-friendly, isn't it? And that it smells ever-so-slightly of caramel.

BMA: Are any of you pot-heads? Or lapsed alcoholics? Or nerds that got fooled into thinking that a tic-tac was really 300 pounds worth of ecstasy and look like a rather ugly lizard? I'm thinking of you, specifically, C'Rizz.
C'Rizz: [hands over ears] Shut up!

Dialogue Triumphs -
The obligatory Eighth Doctor 'Damn it! I just love...' quote –
8th Doctor: DAMN IT! I JUST LOVE LSD!!

4th Doctor: All the answers are waiting for you in your dreams!
C'Rizz: But I thought EVERYTHING in dreams represented sex! Are you saying that sex is the answer to everything?
Charley: I like that philosophy!

BMA: Are any of you carrying drugs about your person?
Charley: Depends. Do you do strip searches?

Gerbil: I'm through with blindly following leaders! I'll do whatever you ask me without question!
8th Doctor: There, you see, Charley – why can't you be like Gerbil?
Charley: I can't afford the lobotomy.

C'Rizz's haunting story -
"L'da and me were digging the summer and drawing on my jeans in biro, when this guy in a scarf came up and said, 'Hey, how about an electric cool laid acid trip? Like 300 pounds a tab?' We dropped them and instantly....
...my previous adolescent depression fell away from me, my head detached itself and floated above me. I looked across and I could see that L'da's tits were bigger than Alpha Sphere.

Then this flying saucer landed on her right nipple and an apricot-coloured walrus waddled out and started playing 'Greensleeves' on a lute made out of my nostril hair - except it wasn't a walrus, it was a LAMP POST!

And he said, 'Watch the moonlight make out, C'Rizz, there are no more heavy vibes.'

I said, 'Each and every one of my thoughts is a glittering bubble, floating in space for all eternity.' Then, there was this incredibly sexy-looking tree in front of me doing a dance.

It looked a lot like L'da and was singing a song that went, 'This is an orange tic-tac, C’Rizz! Man, we've been ripped off!'

"I have vowed revenge."

8th Doctor: C'Rizz was compelled against his will to do the funky chicken. Now something like that's bound to leave some psychic bruising.
C'Rizz: OK, it's a bit unfashionable now, but it was cutting edge back then. I've dealt with it...
8th Doctor: Don't listen to him, Charley - his guilt is very much in the present. The weight of it is crushing him.
C'Rizz: Uh, no, I'm fine. I haven't thought about the incident... ooh, only a few times since it happened.
8th Doctor: And there's only a few times like the present.
C'Rizz: Hey, are you implying something?!

UnQuotable Quote -
Doctor: C'Rizz? WILL YOU SHUT THE GODDAMNED HELL UP ABOUT L'DA?!??!?

Viewer Quotes -
"This Doctor Who story was a real freak-out. Like, totally the same thing happened to me when I discovered drugs. I WAS HAPPY FOR EIGHT MINUTES! When I found out the 'acid' were just tic-tacs, my second adolescent depression started. God damn the pusher man."
- Neil Pye, ELF (1984)

"Ah, Faith Dealer! That's the one where they go somewhere. Something about drugs. Was there a fountain involved in this one? No I think that was The Actual Mystery of Beer... Something else about relationships... C'Rizz gets laid - I remember that bit distinctly - that was cool. Something else happens, the Doctor probably does something extremely clever and Doctorish (probably at the last minute knowing him) and then they leave. Now, Faith Dealer was... I remember... er... hang on... give me a second... something about faith and dealing?" - DIY Sheep's Amnesiac Review (I forget when)

"I remember when a new season of Doctor Who was a time of celebration, a chance to hurriedly rewatch all those stories that will lead to the first new episode. So MY memory is fine!"
- Jo Ford's Bitchy-to-Amnesiacs Reviews (2005)

"I tried sniffing glue, once. I threw up and spent five hours trying to eat my own navel, before my right nostril got stuck to the toilet bowl. So, yeah, it worked for me!" - Andrew Beeblebrox (2005)

"This season shows the Eighth Doctor, Charley and C'Rizz stranded in another universe, cut off from the TARDIS and looking for a way home. It was kinda like the E-Space Trilogy mixed with Season 12. Only with more groupies." – A Brief, Brief History of (Time) Travel (2004)

"The only complaint I have is the horribly rushed ending which in a shockingly awful moment, the Eighth Doctor gets wasted and misses the ending which suggested Verkoff ran out of time and just scribbled out a blink-and-you'll-miss-it ending. Uh, that was a signed confession to be honest." – Nigel Verkoff (2005)

"There is a familiar feeling now with Chris Eccelston's ninth Doctor on the horizon that the eighth Doctor has had his day and with eight years of being the head of the TARDIS it is easy to see where the feeling has come about. Sod off you Liverpudlian Tosser! Let someone with some actual talent take over!" – David Tenannt (2004)


Psychotic Nostalgia -
"Tweedle dum and tweedle dee! There's a mushroom growing inside me! Who am I? Don't you ask! HAH! YOU'RE just a pain in the looking glass!"

Paul McGann Speaks!
"Once more into the breach, India, once more. My last season as the Doctor. We've had our hero, we've followed his journey, we've followed his paths and watched him trying to surmount their obstacles and all the usual bollocks. I feel bloody relieved now there's someone else in the firing line. In fact, I regularly log into Outpost Gallifrey under the name of WOTAN and insist that my incarnation doesn't count and Chris Eccleston is the TRUE Eighth Doctor. So far, no luck, but I will persevere. Damn Eccleston, being the first skinhead Doctor Who. THAT COULDA BEEN ME!! Stupid American film directors..."

Conrad Westmaas Speaks!
"The main difference with this season was that, this time round, I was a lot more comfortable and familiar with Doctor Who. No more New Boy initiation pranks like having the inside of my underpants smeared with Tigerbaum, or being doused with petrol and set on fire, or being reversed over by Mark Gatiss in his four-wheel drive. Paul, India and me have been through more than the characters have – a year's passed, conventions have come and gone, Zig-Zag-Gay-Ass, vodka slammers... Yeah, I'm definitely one of the team now. We're inseparable."

India Fisher Speaks!
"It was a bit of a shock to return to Doctor Who so soon, but I never complain about the chance to get a bit closer to Paul McGann. It's that element which gets me back time and time again, and it is good to see the Big Finish team realize when I say 'I will crush your testicles', it's not an idle threat. Oh, and that other guy was there... You know... Some actor or another we've never heard of. Connington somebody? Anyway, he was there. Big bald wanker."

Trivia -
This story does not have a trailer. But then again, neither did The Twice-A-Night Kingdom. Or Credo of the Moron. Or Schizo. Or Nowhere-Land. Or Encase the Arseholes. Or Reasons to Care. Or Vogon Cutaway. Or Evaders from Bars. And The Best Wife lack one as well.

Rumors & Facts –
No one expected the Eighth Doctor to return again so quickly after The Twice-A-Night Kingdom and plenty prayed it wouldn't happen.

Upon hearing that Doctor Who was returning to television in a brand new series NOT written exclusively by himself, Producer Gay Russell had the ongoing adventures of the Eighth Doctor shunted off into another universe where he could never return.

He soon began to regret this fit of pique, especially as the mind-blowing possibilities of the Divergent Universe had been reduced to the Doctor, his companion Charley Pollard and an annoying lizard called C'Rizz being forced to participate in extreme lifestyle show Double the Fist in the vain hope of regaining the TARDIS.

Critics themselves simply couldn't spew up enough bile for the season, with only The Twice-A-Night Kingdom (with its endless sex scenes and full-frontal nudity) escaping this fate by being so good it cancelled out the inevitable crap reviews and was thus, forgotten entirely.

Russell made several rebuttals in the media, suggesting that after six years of making Big Finish audios, he expected the fanbase to trust him when he made the entirely spurious decision to remove the TARDIS, Earth and any old monsters from the line-up. "We're building to something!" he would regularly scream, but when pressed admitted he was lying.

Basically, everyone thought the whole Divergent idea was crap, and as a result Big Finish had been hemorrhaging buyers and listeners like a hemophiliac with a slit wrist ever since the horror of Zig-Zag-Gay-Ass. Jason Haigh-Ellery suggested they might want to try and capture new buyers, intrigued by Doctor Who's past once the new TV series was the inevitable success.

All in all, it was probably not the best time for the Eighth Doctor's adventures to be 2/5ths into a five-year ongoing story arc in another universe with no TARDIS and a crap gameshow format.

After it became clear that Big Finish's remaining two subscribers would soon be leaving them, Gay Russell agreed that the next season of the Eighth Doctor would be the last one, literally. Abandoning the next two years of Double the Fist storylines, Season 31 would now consist solely of stories from the original Season 33. Due this bizarre rescheduling, Paul McGann's future releases would be recorded on rotation rather than in blocks. True, this meant it would be even more difficult than normal to get McGann to portray the Eighth Doctor, but then he wasn't THE Doctor anymore no one really cared.

Production was stuffed from the beginning as the writers and stories proposed for Season 31 had been immediately abandoned and so Big Finish basically had to start from scratch. Ideally, the season would be quite simple for new listeners and give a nail-biting departure for the Eighth Doctor and companions. Unfortunately, a near-total media black out had been imposed by new series creator Russell T Davies once it became known Billie Piper would be the new companion Rose Tyler a full three months before she'd auditioned. With no idea of the stories, tone or developments of 'Season 32', Russell had no idea what would happen in Season 31!

Even an audio regeneration couldn't be done, as Christopher Eccleston had made sure he was unavailable to Big Finish for the rest of his entire life after appearing as Maxil in The Twice-A-Night Kingdom.

With no time left, Russell grabbed the four most important scripts to the arc and commissioned them on the spot. The second story would involve the trio escaping the Double the Fist plot, the third have them regain a TARDIS and fourth have them escape the divergent universe. That only left the first to be worked out. As chaos reigned following the decision of Witch-finder General Matthew Hopkins' decision to write the second story, Russell decided to fall on his old standby – Nigel Verkoff.

Nigel Verkoff regularly pestered Big Finish to be allowed to work for them writing a story. He would then negotiate downward to co-writing a story, then just appearing in a story, then just making the coffee, or his final offer of being locked in a studio for six hours with nothing but India Fisher and a can of whipped cream. However, his open-minded outlook and lack of desire to become a canonical Doctor made him far more approachable than Nick Briggs.

Verkoff's first submission to Big Finish was its second release, a Fifth Doctor, Turlough and Kamelion story called Phantasmagoria Is In Nigel Verkoff's Pants (later renamed Fan & Phantasmagoria), which ignored the regulars entirely in favor of a character of Verkoff's own creation – Sir Nigel Verkoff Esquire.

Verkoff's weekly-proposed sequel, The Nigel Verkoff Experiment, was not so well received but Russell decided to give him the duty of writing a story from the season outline. The story was originally to be the shock-filled finale of the second Divergent season, where the Doctor and Charley find the TARDIS... only to immediately lose it and be sucked back into Double the Fist.

Verkoff agreed to write the story as long as he could feature a wild LSD rave party and take the piss out of his former employers, Warringah Mall, where he had been forced to dress as the Easter Bunny and hand out eggs. "They only paid me twenty bucks an hour," Verkoff remembers, "which wasn't so bad. Except, what with all the medical bills and bail fines from the muggings and beatings I got came to around $2500."

He agreed not to include the character of Sir Nigel Verkoff Esquire, but would get to play The Boring Man's Assistant. He also went and talked to Tom Baker, his old drinking buddy, about making a return appearance to Big Finish after gatecrashing the production of D'You Believe This? in 2003.

Having previously worked with Paul McGann in the television movie playing the eponymous Rasputin, Baker was undecided and finally agreed on the condition he could do a rapping song about being the embodiment of God, the Divine Being and Ruler of the Universe.

Nigel agreed and double-dared Nick Briggs to work on the episode WITHOUT trying to take control of the story and crown himself the Doctor Immortal for All Eternity.

One of the biggest criticisms of the third McGann season was its lack of consistency as there were wildly imaginative and innovative stories sitting alongside bland rehashes of archetypal Doctor Who adventures. That and the fact it was all shit. Faith Dealer is perhaps the first story to appreciate the difference of the Divergents' universe setting – it's exactly like this one, except there's better parking on Tuesdays and all the pens work.

There are some flaws which detract from Faith Dealer's overall quality – what there is of it. For example, C'Rizz tawdry love affair which DOESN'T end with either the horrible death of one of them or Lizard Boy staying behind just feels... realistic. And when we're talking about C'Rizz, psycho-scaly-people's-poet, realism is LOW on the list.

But the biggest problem is the hasty resolution as the Doctor offhandedly gets wasted and misses the resolution of the story – which was apparently a garbled mess of technobabble which was as unconvincing as it was terse.

There is some improvement in the characterization of C’Rizz here, but having a companion that makes Kamelion look well-thought-out and used better is not a good sign. Also the fact that it takes up to three minutes at a go for the Doctor and Charley to remember who he is wastes valuable drinking-and-boozing time.
While Paul McGann and India Fisher were once the backbone of this part of Big Finish's range, it's become clear that the character of Charley is increasingly stale. She's finally DONE everything TO everything and is utterly redundant in this story, bounding along after the Doctor like an over-excited and rather-horny lapdog but adding nothing of substance to the drama. She doesn't get her knockers out, either.

What is chilling is that this script is by Nigel Verkoff, India Fisher's – and Charley's – greatest fan. The fact she's treated like dirt in this story could be down to the author's fickle decision to lust after Billie Piper instead, but he denies this utterly. Very sensible too. Fisher will kill him if it's true.

To be fair, McGann's Doctor sucks just as bad. McGann, consummate performer that he is, doesn't even try to act alongside Tom Baker after last time. The Eighth Doctor is pretty screwed too, with the search for the TARDIS to escape Steve Foxx just a pale shadow of the original dump Charley and her illegitimate sprog plotline of his first two seasons.

Faith Dealer is an engaging and enjoyable play that evokes the spirit of Doctor Who well, being a good mixture of spirits and mind-altering drugs. It brings some much needed ravers into the hitherto humourless Divergent Universe and for that it's easy to overlook its deficiencies in relation to the regular characters, plot, setting, episode structure, dialogue and sound design.

LSD rave parties in a shopping centre are scarcely touched upon by Doctor Who and it is easy to see why. It's such a tricky subject that is usually dealt with in totally arse-scratching-ly dull seriousness so not to offend anybody. Even Nose of Evil, which is the closest Doctor Who ever got to truly screwing up everything in the name of a good laugh treated dealt with the idea by having the Fourth Doctor only SUGGEST this, rather carry it out, as he does here.

Finally, tragedy had befallen Big Finish during the production of The Actual Mystery of Beer. While there the specially-re-composed theme tune by David Arnold had been replaced by Waltzing Matilda on a Jew's harp, it was discovered at a relatively late stage that they had, in fact, taped over the original music.

Thus, specially composed theme tunes were made for every individual Eighth Doctor story onwards, starting with 'A Decent Star' for The Twice-A-Night Kingdom. For Faith Dealer, Verkoff managed to get a three-part harmony with Tom Baker, Paul McGann and Nick Briggs...

"Yes, The Doctor Is GOD!!!"
by Sir Nigel Verkoff Esquire
performed by Tom Baker, Nicholas Briggs and Paul McGann

TB: My name's Tom Baker!

PM & NB: No need to shout.

TB: I said, that's my name!

PM & NB: So don't wear it out.

NB: My name is Nicky Briggsy
If the situation's sticky...
Then I'm your man, I am canon
And Tom used to be a brickie
I don't give a damn
About what you say
If you don't like that
You better walk this way!

PM: Rock it, Little Nicky, rock it to the left!

TB: Rock it, Little Nicky, rock it to the right!

PM: My name is McGann, Paul
And I'm the best of all
Cause I'm in your face
Like a can of mace
I'm a Satan-groove love man
King of the universe
Mess with me, C'Rizz
And you leave in a hearse.

ALL: Your GOD is a nothing GOD
Is a small-mind GOD
Is a weak-arsed GOD
Now I'm a real-tough GOD
A straight-line GOD
And a good old boy

As a GOD I arm-wrestled Charley
Sweet-meats
And – grin – wide
Yes, the Doctor is GOD!

Long scarves and jelly babes
And the good word is 'Rasputin'
Cause I'm the guy
Who won't die
And fought all the Dustbins!

Cause I'm the word
You've heard
The truth, the light, the way
But I have not risen
Cause I'm sleeping in today

Go get some merchandise
For me to autograph
Don't be too pathetic
And I'll try not to laugh!

My will, my law, my drugs
My will, my law, my drugs

("Nick Briggs for the Tenth Doctor! – Oww!")

Doctor Who is G-G-G-G-G-G-GONE!
Amen!

Nigel Verkoff in Big Finish...

Serial 6P/A – Fan & Phantasmagoria
Fan & Phantasmagoria
An Alternate Programme Guide by Ewen Campion-Clarke
An Extract From The EC Unauthorized Programme Guide O' Amiability

Serial 6P/A – Fan & Phantasmagoria -

Having abandoned Tegan during one of her hissy fits, the Doctor and Turlough are finally free of the fey ninnies they were turned into by the overabundance of estrogen, and can start a calm, mature relationship. Unfortunately, they quickly realize they have absolutely nothing in common! Turlough has no interest in cricket and although the Doctor struggles long and hard to share a passion of self-tattooing with steak knives it just doesn't work for him.

The TARDIS lands in someone's sitting room and Turlough makes himself at home while the Doctor raids the wine cellar. When the owner of the house, Gerri Halliwell arrives, Turlough offers her a game of strip poker with this set of tarot cards he's just purloined.

Turlough loses and Gerri walks out of the house with his school uniform, his watch and two corperia pieces. Suddenly, Turlough announces that the cards were marked and runs out into the night to demand his stuff back from Gerri, and promptly gets struck down in the street by a passing carriage.

As this plot seems to have run out of steam, our attention is drawn, instead, to the neighboring house where Sir Nigel Verkoff Esquire who strides London 1702 like a colossus. Just, a colossus that no one actually pays attention to.

Nigel's one desire in life is to be accepted into the Diabola Club – a libertine establishment of wine, women, demonic worship and more women. He decides to win his way in by his amazing rendition of Destiny's Child's "I'm A Survivor".

Unfortunately, the Diabola Club throw him out as not fitting the height requirements which they invented just moments ago. Annoyed, Nigel decides to take the curious step of constructing his OWN club instead, which he considers calling "The Non-Diabola Club", "The Naughty Hellfire Club" before finally setting on "The Worshipful and Ancient Sir Nigel Verkoff Esquire Fan Club."

Using the small fortune left to him by an amazingly stupid beggar who'd just won the lottery the day he was diagnosed with syphilis, Nigel buys a tavern in the up-market part of town, renovates it and arranges it to hold the best beers and hookers on the planet.

However, there is still no one willing to spend any money in his pub and, to make ends meet, Nigel assumes the identity of Sergeant Nigella Lawson and begins his career as a notorious robber, highwayman and transvestite.

It doesn't work, though, as Nigel keeps forgetting he is supposed to threaten to shoot the victims unless they pay up, not shoot them before they can hand over the cash.

Nigel decides to conduct a séance in order to contact some divine being which will allow him to get some customers, but needs more than one person. Luckily, the concussed Turlough wanders in, bitching about Gerri Halliwell. Two pints later and the young Trion is up for anything, and they begin the séance.

However, they get what is the supernatural equivalent of an answering machine, before getting interference from Radio 4. Bored, Turlough walks out again without paying for his drink and the furious Nigel chases him back to his lair – a police box in a sitting room.

The Doctor is utterly hungover but oddly enough recognizes Nigel as Nigella Lawson – one of the most famous individuals in history, ranked along side the Mad Gasser of Mantoon, and the Ninjitsu Nutter as one of the most bewildering and pointless sociopaths in all time.

In return for an autograph, photo and a good laugh, the Doctor uses his "Access All Areas" pass to get the three of them into the Diabola Club. The Doctor and Turlough fit right in, but the inhibited and nervous Nigel begins to have a panic attack when one of the exotic dancers offers him a drink. Meanwhile, the Doctor's morbid fear of the Macarena – and the effect of several mixed drinks – causes him to run screaming into the night. Turlough sighs and goes after him.

Suddenly, Nigel is attacked by the Shadow – a highwayman reputed to be half-way to becoming the next Robin Hood as soon as he starts giving the money he steals from the rich to the actual poor.

The horrified Nigel surrenders to a real robber, and is shocked to learn it was Gerri Halliwell all along!

Suddenly, Gerri reveals she is from another world, having hired a ship to take her in pursuit of the man who killed her parents - the notorious psychopath Carthok of Daodalus.

Suddenly, Turlough re-enters and snaps, "Kamelion, stop messing about! The Doctor's gone mental again!"

To Nigel's horror, Gerri transforms into a gleaming metal android that jerks to the exit, bitching how with Tegan gone he should be the main companion, damn it.

Nigel thinks about this long and hard and takes a weekend off.


Book(s)/Other Related -
Doctor Who, Mary Sue and Turlough
How To Fit Your Characters Into Someone Else's Format by Rob Shearman
Nigel Verkoff's Wacky Weekend

Goofs -
The Doctor manages to empty the entire wine cellar down his throat in four seconds - alien physiology? Or crappy editing?

Fashion Victims -
All those fops and dandies with their wigs and rouged faces – and the guest cast are even worse!

Links and References -
The Doctor curses himself for not stealing Vansell's Type 70 TARDIS when he had the chance, in "The Tarrants of Time".

Untelevised Misadventures -
The Doctor notes that the room in the TARDIS where he found his cricket whites also contains a 1928 edition of Wisden's Almanac, and a mummified Jamaican bob-sleigh team.

Groovy DVD Extras -
The alternative title sequence featuring a montage of clips from the aborted "Nige" TV pilot.

Dialogue Disasters -
Doctor: What's it come to when two fellows can't ride the King's road unmolested by a pretty lass??!

Halliwell: What are these?
Turlough: Currency – they're corperia pieces. You blow through them for good luck... No, not with a GUN!!

Dialogue Triumphs -

Turlough: Have you heard of this Diablo club?
Nigel: Oh Indeed. It has quite a reputation. Many a young fellow has been wrecked on it's scandalous shore - drinking, wenching, gambling! DAMN IT! WHY DON'T THEY LET ME JOIN??

Doctor: Hello. I've come to clean the pool.

Nigel: Oh, if you only knew how long - the endless empty years, waiting, waiting... to escape the narrow confines of my pants; to split asunder the coffin of my virginity and once more tread among the tarts.

Nigel: What game do I play? The Long Game, my friend. The Long Game!
Doctor: I prefer "Aliens of London", myself.

Viewer Quotes -
"If Fan & Phantasmagoria is any indication of what Doctor Who as an audio series is like, then Big Finish are dead meat. I doubt that they'll last the first year. Doctor Who is dead."
- Daniel O'Mahony (1999)

"Noisy, spooky and evocative with satanic gamblers, the air full of phantom prostitutes and men burning like candles in the street, it's a breeding ground for sin and lust - until that Verkoff idiot turns up!"
- Father James O'Malley (2000)

"There was something about Strickson's performance that didn't ring true... like a root beer float made with freezer-burned ice cream."
- The Unpublished Target Novel "Doctor Who and the Cooking Analogies"

"Fan & Phantasmagoria makes for a fantastic addition to Big Finish's audio adventures, still the best after fifty-one releases bar NONE! The supporting characters are superb too, with Verkoff - quite clearly the scheming baddie from the word go - one of the best villains in all Doctor Who. All in all this tale contains all the right ingredients for GREAT sci-fi – okay, it's a complete rip-off of The Protons, but who really cares deep down? It's the favorite story of any NORMAL person, and only subhuman Who-wanking freaks wouldn't enjoy this audio more than life itself! The perfect recreation of Season 21! The cliffhangers alone trigger multiple orgasms! It's not just great! It's not just amazing! IT'S... AMAZINGLY AMAZING! NIGEL VERKOFF IS GOD!!!"
- EC Unauthorized Guide Exclusive Interview with Nigel Verkoff (2004)

Psychotic Nostalgia -
"Nigel, huh? What a wanker."

Peter Davison Speaks!
"When I started in Doctor Who, I had no idea how to play the part. I was too young, but now I feel old enough to play the Doctor. Mark, on the other hand, is trying to sound as young as possible, the sad, middle-aged git."

Rumors & Facts -
Nigel Verkoff was life-long fan of Doctor Who – his first sight being the artistically-justifiable full-frontal nudity of Terminal in 1983. Immediately a fan, Verkoff was first thrown into the media spotlight when, at the tender age of 11, he lost control of himself during a repeat of The Robots With Breasts and began humping the television. 'HORNY TEEN ELECTROCUTED DURING TV-RAPE' was one of the more memorable headlines during the inquest.

Verkoff failed all his high school exams and immediately applied for work in the BBC, in order to produce a new TV show that would be Doctor Who in all-but-name (and format, in order to be doubly certain).

However, the BBC were less-than-enthusiastic about "Doctor Spoon & Chamber And Not The Other Way Round", an expensive sitcom filmed entirely in Australia and requiring such things as filming aboard Concorde which would then explode, starting genuine bush fires, assassinating various Australian politicians and also generally paying actors more than half a cheese sandwich and a photo of The Radio Times.

It was while waiting in a cue that Verkoff encountered Gay Russell as he performed his daily beg for the license to produce new Doctor Who stories. Big Finish was also not immediately prepared to start a series about the antisocial internet-addict Rupert Woosing-Gard or his wacky American lodger Chamber as they desperately recreated Doctor Who plots without annoying any lawyers.

When Big Finish finally secured the rights for new, four-episode stories featuring the Fifth, Sixth and Seventh Doctors they immediately found that there was an endless supply of ready scripts from uber-fan Nicholas Briggs in his insane desire to become a canonical Doctor.

Politely refusing the script but still demanding he do most of the work, Russell explained that the next thirteen stories were already booked and hastily roped in Verkoff to write the first single-Doctor story, starring the fifth Doctor and Turlough during the only apparent gap in the former's travels: five minutes between Erection of the Dustbins and Mammaries of Fire.

Verkoff instantly watched the two stories and began a thumbnail sketch about this period and realized that absolutely nothing in anyway interesting whatsoever could be allowed to happen in the story, for otherwise the Doctor and Turlough would have mentioned it on screen. Thus, he decided that his story would not have the Doctor and Turlough do anything and instead focus on an amazingly charismatic central character of his own devising – Nigel Verkoff.

Using a lot of material for his aborted semi-autobiographical television series "Nige", Verkoff managed to pad out the four parter with only around fifteen minutes devoted to the Doctor, Turlough and Kamelion.

The story's title went through various stages, from Nigel Verkoff And The Chamber of Bloody Maries to Nigel Verkoff Shags Restoration England to Doctor Who Versus The Architect of Cool – Nigel Verkoff before Nicholas Briggs knocked him unconscious and gave him a stutter that took several months of painful speech therapy to reverse. This is why the final title, Phantasmagoria Is In Nigel Verkoff's Pants, was misinterpreted as Fan & Phantasmagoria.

Noting that the former two characters were defined by their interaction with Tegan, Verkoff decided to make sure her absence was a fulcrum missing from the relationship – which promptly fell apart.

Thus, Fan & Phantasmagoria featured the Doctor and Turlough as middle-aged work colleagues on a business trip together, each on the lookout for something to do rather than actually talk to this stranger they've been paired off with. This allowed him to cut-and-paste a lot of his Doctor Spoon/Chamber material with minimal effort.

As the second Big Finish Doctor Who release EVER, fandom was understandably stunned to find a story not totally dependant on past tales and littered with complicated continuity references. As a quantity surveyor put it, "Fan & Phantasmagoria isn't half as bothered about Doctor Who continuity as my great aunt Patricia!"

This revelation gave Fan & Phantasmagoria a kind of critic-proof shield that meant its lack of Doctor Who material was to be commended, despite the fact the Fifth Doctor barely makes a cameo would be damned when a similar move was attempted in Sphincter of the Adept.

Verkoff decided to cut his losses and quit Big Finish while he was ahead and quickly started the Official Billie Piper Fan Club – which he promptly dissolved when he realized the actress was already married.

Since Fan & Phantasmagoria he has been squatting in a Federation cottage in Sydney with the only two people in the southern hemisphere more screwed up than he is.

You can contact him on a 1800 number to hear his opinion on India Fisher and indeed Doctor Who in general and it saves a lot of work looking for quotes for a program guide. Honest.

YOA # 3 (2) - Normal Service Resumed

Last time on YOA...

Nigel, ridiculously amused at this, laughs uproarishly before falling off the couch. His laughter stops suddenly. Andrew frowns and moves to get to his feet. Suddenly, he grimaces, dropping his glass. It smashes to pieces as Andrew collapses back into the chair. He gives an apologetic look at Dave, before his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps back, unconscious. Dave blows out his cheeks, looking slightly bewildered.

DAVE: Must be the... bloody cryptosperidium in the water again...

He drops the glass and, swaying unsteadily, gets to his feet. Very, very carefully, he makes his way over to the front door. Suddenly, his legs fail him and he collapses onto the ground by the door. With all his strength, Dave manages to roll over onto his back, then he dozes off. The door clicks open, to reveal Parker. He smiles evily. We gradually blur out of focus, mixing the shot to:


4. ACID TRIP

Psychadelic patterns, kaliedescoping into each other. Incoherent, pained howls from our three heroes as they are sucked down, down, down, their hands clawing at us. They spin faster and faster, different shots. Everything spins in the opposite direction.


5. PARIS SKYLINE (BLACK AND WHITE)

We see a dark French city. Silent, apart from distant gunfire. We focus on a street mainly illuminated by ligt behind the windows of a cafe. The street is deserted - no cars, no traffic, no pedestrians. Just a few tables and chairs at the entrance to the cafe.


6. THE CAFE DES POETES (BLACK AND WHITE)

A dimly-lit coffee lounge typical of Paris in the year 1944. Silhouettes of people move back and forth between couches and low tables, and the atmosphere is pleasant and relaxed. Occasionally, there is the distant mutter and crack of gunfire, but we pay it no heed.

We zoom in on one lounge area. Dressed in their ordinary clothes are our heroes, sitting around a table with a bottle of wine and shot glasses. A wino in beret and glasses is slumped next to them, comatose. Andrew holds his glass, staring thoughtfully into the distance, reclining on the couch. Next to him is the thoroughly relaxed Nigel, who is smoking a cigarette. Dave is reading a newspaper called COMBAT.

[Note: All characters from this point speak in French, bar Andrew. Their dialogue is shown in subtitles]

NIGEL: //Well? What does it say?//

DAVE: //"The liberation of France is at hand, my friends!"//

ANDREW: Really.

DAVE: //You betcha! According to this, the Allies have landed in Normandy. The Americans must have taken Chartres by now, mustn’t they?//

NIGEL: //That's the rumor.//

ANDREW: We’ve heard lots of rumors. This could just be another dead end. A false hope. Never rely on rumors. Especially tenth-hand rumors from a third-rate underground paper.

He smacks the paper in Dave’s hand, who wrenches it away.

DAVE: //Come on, Andrew! It explains the fighting going on out there! You gotta admit that!//

ANDREW: [FROWNS] "Got to admit"? Don’t tell me what I have to admit to! [SCOWLS] The Nazis have invaded France, Dave – of course there’s going to be fighting. The resistance groups just happen to be more aggressive tonight. You’re reading too much into it.

DAVE: //Am I? All the resistance groups are out there, fighting! All of them! The Nazis have their hands full at the moment. When the Americans reach here, the invaders will be caught between two fronts. We’re as good as free now!//

NIGEL: //That, Dave, is because it’s what we’re SUPPOSED to think.//

ANDREW: [RUBS EYES] Oh, now what?

NIGEL: //This is all part of the Fuehrer’s planning.//

ANDREW: Yeah, it has that characteristically melodramatic element indicative of someone who, when pissed off, tries to eat the carpet sans cutlery.

NIGEL: //That’s a lie, Andrew! A total lie!//

ANDREW: It’s a well-known fact.

NIGEL: //A well-known opinion, more like.//

ANDREW: [SMUGLY] Most well-known facts are. I tell you, if that idiot Jean-Paul listened to me, the war would have ended months ago. Marks my words!

NIGEL: //Oh, yeah! SURE!//

ANDREW: It would work! It’s a brilliant idea!

NIGEL: [MOCKING] //Sure, sure – put a cyanide-flavored rug in Hitler’s room and wait and see...//

DAVE: //Wait, wait, wait. Nigel... You’re saying that Hitler actually plans to lose the war?//

ANDREW: Yes, it’s a close-run thing, though.

NIGEL: //Oh, wake up, you two! It's all a plot. The Allied Forces will free France – and how many men will they lose doing it? How many resistance members will be left afterwards? And will they be prepared for the German reinforcements? The weakened armies shall be crushed and France shall fall back under Nazi rule. This is all a ruse! A gigantic bit of psychology.//

DAVE: //You know, Nige, you really are looking into these things a bit too deeply. Do you get that feeling?//

ANDREW: Besides, even if it isn’t a trick... if Hitler DOES lose the war... what’s the stop it happening all over again, hmm? Versailles didn’t work last time, it won’t work now.

DAVE: //Well, I think Europe will go communist after all this.//

NIGEL: [ANGRY] //That’s total bull-twang, Dave! Within three weeks, Hitler will be master of Europe once more – and they’ll all be goose-stepping in our living rooms!//

DAVE: //WHAT? You’re crazy! You’re--//

Andrew sighs and swigs his glass down. There is no more wine left to be drunk.

ANDREW: You’re driving me bananas.

He rises and leaves. Dave rises, picking up the paper.

NIGEL: [SINGSONG] //Oooh! Andrew’s in a bad mood...//

Nigel looks smug. Then he sighs and rises. The wino slumps.


7. STREET (BLACK AND WHITE)

Andrew, then Nigel, then Dave exit. There is little noise, bar night atmosphere and a distant rumbling noise. Andrew frowns, stops and turns around.

ANDREW: Hey, what’s that?

He crosses over to a manhole cover in the middle of the street.

DAVE: //What?//

ANDREW: That noise...

He gets down on all fours and listens to the manhole cover.

ANDREW: It’s coming from this manhole! Help me with this thing...

Dave and Nigel sigh, but, between the three of them, manage to lift the cover free and put it down next to the access shaft. It seems to be a very long tunnel with a ladder stretching down into the distance. The noise is getting louder.

NIGEL: //I can hear voices...//

ANDREW: [NODS] Sounds like a party.

DAVE: //Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!//

Dave hastily climbs into the manhole and out of sight. Nigel follows, clearly uncomfortable climbing into the sewer. Before he is out of view, Andrew starts to climb down the shaft. We hear crunching noises and Nigel howling in agony.

ANDREW: [DESCENDS] Do you mind? Would you please get your freaking head out of my way...?


8. SEWER (BLACK AND WHITE)

We see a tight shot of Dave climbing down the ladder. Finally, the shaft ends and then, so does the ladder. Dave jumps off onto a platform. All around is darkness. He walks forward and moves down some steps onto a lower platform. Behind him, Nigel moves down the ladder.

We slowly pan out to see just where they are. This odd staircase becomes an extremely steep one. It is in the middle of a gigantic chamber, containing a building that fills up most of the space.

From it emerge large pipes and water streams from these in endless waterfalls. Surrounding the construct are more of these staircases, like miniature buildings themselves. What little illumination there is comes from arched windows in the buildings.

NIGEL: [VO] //Now where are we?!?//

DAVE: [VO] //I wish you’d stop saying that every five minutes.//

NIGEL: [VO] //I wouldn’t have to if I knew where we were for more than five minutes at a time.//

We pan out further to show that this impressive setup seems bottomless, with more pipes emerging from other angles to empty water out. The most illumination comes from a doorway on the far side of the chamber.

NIGEL: //I’ve seen bigger...//

DAVE: //Oh, shut up! [SOTTO] I had no idea this was down here... Someone’s converted the sewage works into a miniature city – even got some electricity working.//

He points at illuminated arched windows in the buildings.

DAVE: //Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing.//

NIGEL: //Surely, it’s a bit dim for all this light.//

DAVE: //...what?//

NIGEL: //You know.//

DAVE: //No. I don’t.//

NIGEL: //The light in the windows is really weak, so how can we be so well... lit?//

DAVE: //I know.//

He points to the far side of the chamber. Behind them, we can hear Andrew scream. His voice gets louder and louder until he drops out of the manhole shaft and slams into the platform above them.

ANDREW: Ohh. My back...

NIGEL: //So, where to now?//

DAVE: [POINTS] //Like any self-respecting wanderer, we go towards the light. That door. Over there.//

NIGEL: //Are you sure about this, Dave?//

DAVE: //This is life. Nothing’s sure.//

NIGEL: //Exactly. So don’t make it worse.//

Dave frowns and looks at him.


9. SEWER (BLACK AND WHITE)

A few moments later. The guys have somehow managed to cross the chasm to be on the other side and are passing the main outlet pipes towards the bright light. Andrew is ruefully massaging his shoulder as they come to a halt. The light streams through the ancient and ruined door that blocks their way.

NIGEL: //It’s a door.//

ANDREW: Give that man a prize for his insight.

NIGEL: [INTERESTED] //Ooh! What have I won?//

ANDREW: This.

He smacks Nigel in the face. Nigel tries to smack him, but misses.

NIGEL: [SCREAMS IN AGONY] //You bastard! You broke my jaw!//

ANDREW: Afraid not, Nigel. You can still talk. Unfortunately.

DAVE: [SIGHS] //Well, we’re here.//

NIGEL: //This seems a bit too much for a party that might not be on.//

ANDREW: Oh, where’s your spirit of adventure?

NIGEL: //Working its way through another bottle of wine, back at the Café Des Poetes. Where’s yours?//

Andrew laughs humorlessly.

ANDREW: Nige, did anyone ever tell you have a marvelous sense of humor?

NIGEL: //Yes, actually.//

ANDREW: They lied.

Dave stares at the door. Painted on the surface is a screaming skull surrounded by burnt soot. Above the wall is the word ‘OSSUARY’ scratched out into the stone wall.

DAVE: //‘Oss-you-air-ee.’ What’s that?//

NIGEL: //Probably French.//

ANDREW: What? Can’t you speak French?

NIGEL: //Not a word. Why?//

ANDREW: Because, you vacuous adolescent, ‘Ossuary’ is an ENGLISH word! Christ in a blender, man...

NIGEL: //Oh, and what does that mean then, gobshite?//

ANDREW: A place or receptacle for the bones of the dead. Derived from the Latin word for bone, ‘os’.

NIGEL: //Likely story.//

ANDREW: It’s true!

NIGEL: [SNORTS] //Sure.//

ANDREW: Fine! YOU think I’m lying!

DAVE: //Well, just prove it then.//

ANDREW: Prove it? YOU disprove it!

NIGEL: //Very witty, duckface.//

ANDREW: Cephalopod!

Dave sighs and pushes the door. With a nerve-rending creak, it swings open, allowing a relatively bright light to shine on the three of them. Andrew and Nigel stop fighting and stare beyond the door, at what we cannot see.

NIGEL: //OK, best of three?//


10. THE OSSUARY (BLACK AND WHITE)

A tall, long corridor with a leaky ceiling. The walls are made up of countless human skulls. The trio walk down the passage cautiously down the passage towards a more conventional door at the far end of the mausoleum.

ANDREW: I suppose you could call this an uncorrupted gloom.

DAVE: //Could you?//

ANDREW: Yes, but I wouldn’t. Quite oppressive, that’s what I’d call it.

NIGEL: //Yes. Cold, damp walls, twisting tunnels... Why would anyone have a party in the Paris Ossuary?//

DAVE: //Maybe they like the way the eyes follow you around the room?//

NIGEL: //What eyes?//

DAVE: [COLDLY] //That was a joke, you moron.//

ANDREW: The skulls of a million dead Parisians... a million faces glaring impassively, as if pressed, en masse, against the walls of a glass cage... BOR-RING! Come on!

Andrew strides up to the door and moves to turn the knob.

NIGEL: //Andrew, is this REALLY a good idea?//

ANDREW: Of course it is.

DAVE: //After all – the party can only get livelier after this...//

Andrew turns the handle and pulls open the door.


11. DUNGEONS (BLACK AND WHITE)

The door, which is framed like a painting opens. Andrew enters, into some slightly-less gloomy gloom. The others troop in behind him, filling the doorway.

ANDREW: Yes... This seems about right.

We see we are in shadowy dungeons, lit by period light fittings that cast flickering glows over the occupants. The rumble can now be heard as French-style pre-rock ’n’ roll music. A bunch of people are dancing to the music, while other mingle. Hunks in tight shirts, Nazi officers, naked women in body paint – all freaks and all freaky, smoking, talking and drinking. The guys are unfazed.

NIGEL: //We should have brought a six pack.//

DAVE: //Why?//

ANDREW: These bastards are drinking Cointreau!

We see Katy, smoking a cigarette and talking to someone. She notices the guys by the doorway and nods very slightly.

NIGEL: //There’s Katy! HEY, JANUARY! SALUT!//

Katy approaches them, a cheerful host and frighteningly normal in this odd surroundings. She waves happily.

KATY: //Nigel, Dave, Andrew! Hey, you made it!//

ANDREW: Odd choice for locale.

KATY: //Unique, Andrew. And that is what tonight is all about.//

DAVE: //Yeah, well, I guess having a party inside the Paris Ossuary counts as unique – especially when you don’t tell anyone about it! What, the invitations get lost in the fighting or something?//

KATY: //If we’d told you, if would have spoiled everything.//

ANDREW: Oh, what a shame!

KATY: //To come here, you have traversed the underside to Paris. With this new understanding, you can appreciate our endeavors.//

DAVE: //The poor woman’s insane...//

Nigel turns and notices someone hanging from a casually-placed crucifix. Stripped naked and brutally beaten is the owner of Andrew’s workplace, Snugglewarp. He stares at Nigel, drunkenly.

NIGEL: //Oi! What are you looking at, mole features?//

OWNER: //So! Herr Verkoff, you seek to mock me? To mock my terrible power? [EVIL LAUGHTER] You will call me Derek, the crucified one!//

NIGEL: [TURNING AWAY] //Later dude.//

OWNER: //Yes, I see you shrink before my glorious aspect! Yes!//

Katy, Andrew and Dave, now all carrying drinks, move over towards the Owner. Dave closes the door to the Ossuary.

DAVE: //So, what are you celebrating? You think France is about to be freed by the Allied Forces?//

KATY: //Oh, Dave. To give this decadence a purpose is... purposeless. It is, and that is enough. Now, I must introduce you to every one... This is he whom we call Derek, the crucified one. Well, he likes to be called that.//

Andrew wanders over, placing his glass on the cross bar of the crucifix. He smiles at the Owner.

ANDREW: How’s it hanging, Maddog? No, wait, I'm Maddog. You're Mr. Snugglewolfe! I think...

OWNER: [SINGING] //To give style to one’s character – that is a grand and rare art! He who surveys all that his nature presents in its strength and in its weaknesses, and then fashions it into an ingenious plan, until everything appears artistic and rational...//

DAVE: //Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.//

OWNER: //Alas, the time is coming when Man will no longer give birth to the Dancing Star!//

ANDREW: Oh, really. How interesting.

OWNER: //You cannot begin to understand!//

ANDREW: Looks like.

OWNER: //For you, the Music of the Spheres will always be a dull, scraping noise, forever! You will hear only this for a time, then... NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL!//

KATY: //Oh, give it a rest, arsehole.//

DAVE: //What’s he talking about?//

ANDREW: What’s wrong, Dave. Scared?

DAVE: //Scared, I’m fricken’ terrified.//

KATY: //Don’t let him get to you, Dave. He only does all this because he can’t talk to girls. Speaking of which, where’s Nigel?//

Nigel enters our view, notices the gang and waves. As he moves forward to speak, a beautiful blonde leaps out of the shadows and jabs a gun in Nigel’s face.

EVE: //Now, please put these paper cylinders on your fingers, my dear!//

Nigel swallows, terrified and puts the paper shapes over his fingers. While keeping a gun trained on Nigel, Eve produces a matchstick and strikes it. It ignites immediately.

DAVE: //Katy, who’s that?//

KATY: //Oh, that’s just Auntie Eve. She likes party tricks.//

EVE: [TO KATY] //It’s my birthday, you slut!// [TO NIGEL] //Perhaps now you will only write the truth of real socialism. Or social realism, I forget which. Hold still...//

Nigel swallows again as the lighted match moves towards his hand. The others move off into another dungeon. Nigel is perspiring now.

NIGEL: //Guys? Guys? GUYS!//

His face is lit by the eerie glow of the fire.


12. THEATRE

A normal period French theatre. A spotlight shines on the stage, silhouetting someone. Seated around the stage seem to be everyone in the party. A few windows show the sewer outlets the guys had to navigate outside. A pipe-smoking American sergeant moves out of the way as Katy, Dave and Andrew enter.

KATY: [EAGERLY] //Come on, you two! Quickly! The cabaret is starting!//

The trio take some convenient seats. The figure on the stage steps forward. It’s Parker. In a tight black dress, fishnet stockings and a seat, elbow-length gloves and a ridiculous beehive wig.

PARKER: Evening...

Dave stares at him in appropriate horror. Parker begins to do an erotic, cabaret-type dancing around the chair. Delta Goodrem’s voice provides the lyrics.

SONG: Do you remember
When you were seven
And the only thing
That you wanted to do
Was show your mum
That you could play the piano?

Ten years have passed
And the one thing that lasts
Is that same old song
That we played along
And made my mumma cry

We start to introduce frame-flashes of Dave’s face in colour, lolling and unconscious. These flashes get longer and longer.

SONG: I miss those days
And I miss those ways
When I got lost in fantasies
In a cartoon land of mysteries

In a place you won’t grow old
In a place you won’t feel cold
And I’ll sing...

We are now slowly but steadily zooming in on Dave’s troubled face, getting closer and closer as the flashes of him get longer and longer, until we can no longer tell what is the illusion.

SONG: Da-da-da-da-da-da da-da-da-da-da-da
Seems I’m lost in my reflection
Da-da-da-da-da-da da-da-da-da-da-da
Find a star for my direction
Da-da-da-da-da-da da-da-da-da-da-da

For the little girl inside
Who won’t just hide
Don’t let me see mistakes and lies

Let me keep my
Faith and innocent eyes
My innocent eyes

We flicker rapidly between the two Daves until the chorus ends and we snap to -- --

13. APARTMENT

We see Dave’s face in close-up, blinking blearily. Delta’s voice echoes and reechoes. We can hear someone speaking.

ANDREW: [DIST] Wake up, Dave... Wake up... Dave, wake up!

We see Dave’s point of view. A pink blur refocuses into a haggard-looking Andrew, wearing a dressing gown. Dave sings completely out of tune.

DAVE: Da-da-da-da-da-da da-da-da-da-da-da, in-no-cent-a eyes...

ANDREW: Dave? Dave!

Dave snaps out of it and looks around. The movement is painful.

DAVE: [GROANS] Oh, what happened? Where’ve I been?

ANDREW: You don’t want to know...

We now see the apartment for the first time. It has been stripped completely of all furniture and fittings. All that’s left are three rickety chairs. One is empty, the others occupied by Dave and Nigel (who is still unconscious). They are stripped down to their underwear and stand on the chairs, feet tied to the seats and nooses around their necks. Andrew pulls out a comb and a flick knife extends from it. He starts to cut the noose from around Dave's neck. He registers what is going on.

DAVE: Wha? Wha?! WHA?

ANDREW: Shut up, Dave! This is a delicate procedure!

DAVE: What? Done this before, have you?

ANDREW: How do you think I got out? Now, very gently... ease forward...

Dave inches forward, trips, sumersaults through the air and crashes on the floor. Andrew helps him up.

ANDREW: Your future kids owe me big, man.

DAVE: Bu... what happened, man? Who did this?

ANDREW: Surprise me.

DAVE: [SIGHS] Parker?

ANDREW: Parker.

Dave stretches his shoulders.

ANDREW: He’s spiked our water supply. When we were all out for the count, he came in here, stripped us, strung us up and stole everything that wasn’t nailed down. Including Pæje!

DAVE: Wha... that bastard!

ANDREW: Don’t get emotional.

DAVE: Why?

ANDREW: Because then I would have to hit you. What little stuff we have is in a dumpster out front. We can collect it once we pay a fine.

DAVE: [ROLLS EYES] A fine. How much?

ANDREW: $600. More if we ask for it tomorrow.

DAVE: Hey – how do you know all this, anyway?

ANDREW: Oh, I’m an old hand at intoxication. Just had to speed up the metabolism. Processed the drug and woke up tied to the chair while two of Parker’s cronies stole everything and took it to the dumpster. I overheard them telling each other about the fine. Good thing exposition’s cheap.

DAVE: So how did you escape?

ANDREW: Easy. I dislocated my ankles and freed my feet, then backflipped and wrapped my legs around the rope so THEY were bearing the weight rather than my neck and began to swing back and forth until a mixture of stress, friction and weight ripped the rope in two, allowing me to fall to safety.

DAVE: Really?

ANDREW: No, but it's a brilliant image isn't it? I put some clothes on and tried to wake you up.

DAVE: Why haven’t you woken Nigel up?

ANDREW: [SIGHS] Because... Because, Dave... because, for one glorious moment, I forgot he ever existed...

Andrew and Dave stare off into the distance, wistfully.

DAVE: Mmm. Nice.

Andrew shrugs and snaps out of it.

ANDREW: Still, we better get on with it.

He crosses over to Nigel unties his feet.

ANDREW: [SOTTO] Nigel... It’s the tambourine-player from the Dandy Warhols... She’s fallen out of her clothes and she needs a cuddle... Ni-gel?

Nigel smiles craftily, not opening his eyes and his head slumps forward. With a grin, Andrew wrenches the chair away. Nigel cries out and chokes.

ANDREW: Whoops! Missed a step!

Andrew hurls the knife through the air. It slices through the rope and Nigel falls, sumersaults, and lands in the splits. Dave and Andrew wince. Nigel’s eyes snap open and he screams. His voice sounds like he’s been on helium.

To be continued...

YOA # 3 (1)

THE YOUTH OF AUSTRALIA

EPISODE THREE: Too Clever By Far.

By EWEN CAMPION-CLARKE and DAMIAN SANCHEZ

1. OUTSIDE APARTMENT BLOCK

Dave turns the corner of the main street outside the apartment block, looking exhausted. As he approaches the block, he shows no awe of any kind, but merely continues past a guy being continuously sick and enters the lobby.


2. LOBBY

A bored-looking security guard sits at the front desk, reading an old hard backed book. He pays Dave not the slightest attention as our hero staggers over to the lifts. He presses a button and the door opens to reveal a very dusty, cobwebbed sign saying OUT OF ORDER. Dave sighs, not surprised.

DAVE: [OVER SHOULDER] Rick, are you ever going to fix the lifts?

RICK: Of course I am, David.

DAVE: When??

RICK: Before the universe implodes.

He lifts his head and thinks for a moment, then nods.

RICK: Definitely.

DAVE: And when will the universe implode?

RICK: I’ll let you know.

DAVE: How?

RICK: [ROLLS EYES] The lifts will be fixed! Honestly, David!

Dave scowls at him and trudges up to the doorway to the stairwell.


3. STAIRWELL

As Dave enters, he looks up. The staircase loops back on itself, coiling upwards until it has a vanishing point. Dave gives out a world-weary sigh and begins to walk up the stairs. We see shot after shot of Dave climbing a flight of stairs. He pauses for a breather and looks up. The end is as far away as before.

Dave glances down and we see a similar view going downwards. Dave coughs and tries to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. The plastic of his coat scrapes his face and he grimaces, mopping his face ruefully. Then, he crosses to the nearest stairwell door and pushes it open.


4. CORRIDOR

A bland, featureless corridor stretching away as far as the eye can see. On both sides are doors, marked with numbers. A sign by the stairwell says LEVEL NINETEEN. Dave sighs in relief and takes a step forward – immediately tripping over a barely-visible tripwire.

He tries to balance himself, but his shoes seem to be slippery and sliding. Finally, Dave manages to hurl himself upright and back away from the corridor.


5. STAIRWELL

Dave’s momentum pushes him backwards and he slams into the safety railing. He flips over it, somersaulting out of sight. We hear his distraught but incoherent yelp and then, six seconds later, a hideous crashing noise.

6. CORRIDOR

Hands finger the tripwire and then tug away in a business-type manner. One hand then strokes the floor, revealing it to be covered in a transparent, soapy-solution. We can now see the owners of the hands: Leopole Parker. He stares right at us and begins to chuckle the way only pure evil can.

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RUN CREDITS SEQUENCE
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1. APARTMENT

The usual-format type room with a small en suite kitchen and two large wardrobe extensions that count as rooms. The whole flat is gloomy, with the light streaming in through grubby windows. The furniture seems one size too small, making the owners have to crouch uncomfortably in order to do anything. Most of the room’s space is taken up by two sofas and a round coffee table facing a halfway decent home entertainment complex.

Nigel is twisted in an uncomfortable pose right in front of the TV screen and we see he is playing an extremely realistic – if poorly designed – action adventure-type game were nubile heroes chase through mansions facing monsters at every turn. Nigel has let himself go – the bleach is almost entirely out of his hair and he is ghastly pale (quite a feat, considering he’s an Aboriginal). He wears a very ordinary pair of sunglasses that show his bagged and tired eyes and stubble covers his chin. He wears very basic clothes, nothing with logos or signs. His body language however, seems as normal as ever. But when he stops playing the game, he is like some one on the graveyard shift with insomnia, wracked by pain and unable to sleep. His voice is slurred slightly.

Andrew sits awkwardly on one of the couches, trying to stay upright as he works. His hygiene standards have slipped and he now boasts a shaggy beard and he wears a soiled tracksuit. He is bent over a deranged object – a fur-lined pole ending in a fluffy toy reindeer head – which has been dismantled. He is frantically trying to put it together with shaking hands. His overall demeanor is someone trying to starve themselves of heroin and failing miserably. He mumbles things under his breath and regularly shakes his head, as though trying to shoo away invisible bees that are attacking him.

We meet the final member of the gang – a strange, deformed animal called Pussy-Æter Jones (or ‘Pæje’ for short). A part-dingo that has lived off junk food its whole life and now is starving. We can see its ribs between folds of flab. Its lower jaw seems slightly too long and so its has a row of jagged teeth encircling its face. The dog seems ridiculous, ugly and sinister at the same time.

None of the occupants of this dingy, run-down apartment communicate with each other in any way, or even acknowledge each other’s existence. The only noise to be heard is the occasional gunfire from Nigel’s game. Suddenly, there is a low scratching of the front door as a key is inserted in the lock. The dog immediately starts to bark shockingly loud again and again. Nigel narrows his sunken eyes, trying to block this out. Andrew struggles to work on.

ANDREW: Shut up, Pæje!

The dog continues to bark. The door finally opens and Dave limps in. His arm is twisted and awkward and his coat is shredded to pieces, segments hanging loose off him. He seems too tired to be angry with any of this.

DAVE: Pæje, shut up. Shut up!

NIGEL: [OVER THE NOISE] Hey, Dave.

DAVE: Hey, Nige. Pæje, it’s me. Shut up, Pæje! SHUT UP!

The dog continues to bark, mindlessly as Dave closes the door. Andrew suddenly convulses, flapping his hands around his head as if a mosquito is buzzing around him. His project drops to the floor and smashes to pieces. Andrew stares at it for a long moment, then grimly begins to pick it back up. The dog continues to bark all the time in the background.

ANDREW: PUSSY-ÆTER JONES! BE SILENT THIS INSTANT!

Beyond all reason, the dog continues its wailing. Andrew’s arm swings out, striking the dog, which begin to roll sideways, finally falling from its position on top of the sofa and out of side. It yelps slightly and there is silence. Then it begins to bark again. Andrew grabs the furry reindeer head and throws it over the top of
the sofa. There is a clunk and silence. Dave stumbles into view and collapses onto the sofa beside Andrew, who is frantically trying to collect the remains of his work.

DAVE: [MOANS] Oh, Gooooooooohoooood!!

ANDREW: So... how was work today?

DAVE: Guess.

NIGEL: That bad?

DAVE: Worse. I went to clock-off, but Maurice was under strict instructions to stop me leaving until some wanker turned up with their copy of Inspector Gadget 3! Four hours I was there.

NIGEL: He turn up?

DAVE: Oh, of course he did! He turned up yesterday, handed in the video and left! Maurice was lying in order to keep me there – more strict orders! Understand now?

ANDREW: Obviously.

NIGEL: Did Maurice confess?

DAVE: Eventually. Had to give him a trip of the Orient via some Chinese burns, though. Honestly, I finally find someone else from school and they treat me like... like...

NIGEL: Like things were exactly the same and you were still a loser everyone hated?

DAVE: Exactly! God! I can’t get away from him – no matter what I do, where I go, who I see, he’s always one step ahead of me! After all that, he laid out a tripwire to stop me getting onto this level! Nearly broke my fricking neck!

NIGEL: He’s running out of ideas.

DAVE: And I’m running out of heartbeats.

NIGEL: No, seriously. He used to be so much more... inventive. Remember last month? When he painted that cityscape at night on all the windows, so we all thought it was night and slept in – and then he docked you for the pay? There was a MIND behind that, man!

DAVE: [SIGHS] Yeah. A MIND out to get me! We still haven’t managed to get that paint off the windows, yet. [TO ANDREW] I thought you were mixing up a solvent?

ANDREW: [BUSY] So did I.

DAVE: Well?

ANDREW: After the third mixing pot dissolved, I decided to call it a draw. From now on, I am dedicating my life to this. My last, greatest achievement... Well, it’s my first achievement, but my expectations are still pretty high, you know.

DAVE: That... drivel?!? What good is it? It’s useless!

ANDREW: [COLDLY] To YOU, maybe.

DAVE: What possible use can you have for an automatic reindeer? It’s useless! It can’t help us, it’s purposeless! Do something useful for a change!

ANDREW: First law of crisis, Dave. First law of crisis.

Dave is wretched. He’s on the verge of tears.

DAVE: What?

ANDREW: First law of crisis – panic about one thing at a time. Pæje needs to be dealt with, so I’m dealing with him. Once that’s out of the way, we can concentrate on [FALTERS SLIGHTLY] ...other matters. All right?

DAVE: No! Not all right!

ANDREW: YOU don’t have any better suggestions, so just shut up.

DAVE: Oh, mister automatic reindeer says *I* don’t have any suggestions! What next? An automatic pineapple? A clockwork orange? It’s nothing! NU-THING!

ANDREW: [ANGRY] What do YOU plan to do then, Restal?!?

DAVE: Oh, I don’t know! [SOBS] What can we do? We’ve lost...

Andrew feverishly shakes his head.

ANDREW: No. Not yet. Not now – not EVER!

DAVE: We’re not going to win. We can’t.

ANDREW: Shut up, you defeatist!

DAVE: [LAUGHS BITTERLY] ‘Defeatist’?

ANDREW: Give up, then. You’ve lost your right to survive.

Nigel’s jaw tightens and he concentrates even more on the game.

DAVE: You know how important this coat is to me, Maddog?

ANDREW: Remind me.

DAVE: My mum made this for me. She slaved away for three months before her accident. It’s all I’ve got and now it’s in shreds because of that... that... fuckwit Parker! So don’t you tell me I’ve got no right to survive. Vengeance – it’s all he’s left me with!

ANDREW: [CHUCKLES] When planning revenge, dig two graves.

Nigel frowns and looks up.

NIGEL: Why? Will it hurt twice as much?

ANDREW: No, you moron! It’s because you’ll end up as bad off as your victim. It never works. That’s why we’ve got to plan carefully.

NIGEL: Carefully. Hah.

He goes back to the game. Andrew rises to the bait.

ANDREW: You want to say something, Nigel? Don’t let me stop you.

DAVE: We’ve been under siege for eight weeks. How much longer are you going to sit their cogitating before we actually get round to doing something, huh? Or are you scared of the other guy, hmm?

ANDREW: Scared? I’m bloody terrified – and that’s why I’m still alive. The second you give in, the moment you let him know he’s won, he won’t care any more. There’ll be nothing left for him.

DAVE: Oh, boo hoo. We wouldn’t want that, would we?

Andrew puts down his things and stares at Dave.

ANDREW: Try not to be stupid. You know what he’s like, what he’s capable of... If he wanted to, he could take us out like [SNAPS FINGERS] that! That’s why we’ve got to keep fighting, to keep being important enough for him to want us alive and suffering. As long as we keep on keeping on, the pressure’s on HIM! HE’S the one who has to spend every hour of every day working to break us down.

DAVE: [LAUGHS] What? You think he’s going to crack under the pressure? Your great plan rests on the Antichrist out there having a nervous breakdown?

ANDREW: No. His attacks against us will be the diversion we need to get back at him. But I need time to think and I can’t think while my dog is acting like a motion sensor.

NIGEL: Hence the automatic reindeer.

DAVE: Oh, what is this crap?!? This is useless! We’re screwed!

ANDREW: Sit down. Shut up. Now.

Dave lunges at Andrew and grabs him by the lapels.

DAVE: You scum-sucking pile of ---

Andrew bitch-slaps Dave, who spins and crashes to the floor. He clutches his face, apparently in shock. Nigel looks up.

NIGEL: Oh, that was a bit harsh.

ANDREW: [FOLDS ARMS] There are two classical ways to deal with hysteria, Nigel. You didn’t expect me to kiss him, did you?

Dave spring up from the floor and tackles Andrew. They both fall to the floor, fighting like animals and having lost all reason. Nigel finally tears himself away from the computer game and sees what is happening. He leaps to his feet and crosses to the others.

NIGEL: Hmmm. Must be 3 o’clock already.

He kicks out. Dave screams and flies across the room. Andrew groans, trying to get up.

ANDREW: [PAINED] Thanks, Nige. Man, I thought he was go--

Nigel kicks out again and Andrew is knocked out. He crosses over to the floored Dave, and kicks him until he loses consciousness. He then turns and crosses back to the computer game.

NIGEL: There was NO part of that that wasn’t enjoyable.

He sits down and picks up the controls when the doorbell rings three times in quick succession. Nigel’s pleased expression drains away and he looks very ill. He turns to look at the doorway, frightened. Andrew and Dave sit up and follow his gaze fearfully.


2. CORRIDOR

Parker rings the doorbell in the same sequence. The door opens slightly and the reindeer head emerges. Parker is slightly freaked out by this, but stands his ground.

PARKER: Ah, hello?

Nigel speaks in a muffled, accented voice.

NIGEL: [VO] Zorry! Not today, tankyoo.

PARKER: Nigel? Nigel, is that you?

NIGEL: [VO] No. I am a Brazilian peasant. From Russia. Go away.

PARKER: [SOFTLY] Don’t make me lose my temper.

A short pause. The reindeer retreats inside the door.

ANDREW: [VO] What do you want?

PARKER: I’ve just come here to see if everything’s... all right.

DAVE: [VO] Oh, well, everything’s fine. Thanks for asking.

PARKER: Let me in, please.


3. APARTMENT

The apartment. The guys are huddled around the doorway, looking rather the worse for wear and all unbearably tense. They exchange a sad nod and open the door. Parker strides in, like he owns the place. As he moves around the apartment, the guys go out of their way to avoid him.

NIGEL: And, er, what can we do for you, Leopole?

PARKER: Please. Call me Parker.

ANDREW: Fine. What do you want now?

PARKER: Why, Andrew, my boy, I just came in to see if everything was all right. What concerned neighbor wouldn’t?

NIGEL: [CAREFULLY] What makes you think something’s wrong?

DAVE: Maybe someone tied a tripwire over the door to the stairwell.

PARKER: No doubt. This building seems to be becoming more dangerous by the hour. Everywhere is a deathtrap waiting for victims.

ANDREW: Three guesses.

DAVE: IF you need them.

NIGEL: And the first two don’t count.

PARKER: [SMILES CRUELLY] You’re not planning to seek other accommodation, are you? I might take such an action... the wrong way. An insult, in fact. I’m sure we understand each other.

DAVE: Only too well.

Over the next dialogue, Parker crosses to the water cooler, which is the only undamaged item of furniture we have seen so far. As he talks, he turns to face the others but we see him empty a tiny vial of bright orange crystals – like orange sherbet – into the water tank. The stuff swirls and dissolves, leaving the water clear. When the final speck is gone, Parker moves away from the water cooler.

PARKER: I was just curious about all the noise from in here.

NIGEL: Well, we’re sorry about that.

PARKER: You will be. You will be.

ANDREW: [SIGHS] There’ll be no further interruptions, sir. Go back to your room. We... apologize... profusely... for the interruption.

Parker smiles slightly and crosses over to Andrew, who avoids his gaze. Behind him, Nigel points at Parker and makes the sign language symbol of ‘Dickhead’. Dave smirks slightly.

PARKER: I... accept your apology, Andrew. But, please, do something about that dog of yours. Or I may have to.

Andrew looks up at last, a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. He speaks with raging insincerity.

ANDREW: I’ve been working on that problem for a while now, sir.

PARKER: I suggest you make better progress.

ANDREW: True progress requires absolutely NO interruptions.

Dave and Nigel react to this. Parker’s face is devoid of expression. He steps worryingly close to Andrew, who flinches slightly. A long, long pause as the threat hangs in the air. Finally, Parker chuckles.

PARKER: But of course. If I may have your leave, Andrew, I will go. Good luck with your... progress.

Parker turns and strides straight for the open door. Once outside, he turns to face the others and mockingly salutes them. The door swings shut, apparently of its own accord. Andrew covers his face in his hands and collapses onto the couch.

NIGEL: [ANNOYED] What’s the matter with you, Andrew? You’ve got a death wish or something?

ANDREW: [RUBS EYES] Not at all.

DAVE: That’s not what it looks like to us. You remember what happened the last time you spoke to him like that...

Andrew looks up at the others, angry.

ANDREW: Yes. Yes, I do. He tortured Pæje and reduced him to... to that! [INDICATES] And then he was the nerve to come round here and complain about my dog...

NIGEL: There’s still no point stirring up trouble!

ANDREW: Isn’t there?!

NIGEL: Look, if you want to get brutally murdered, just attack him and get it over with!

ANDREW: I might do that.

DAVE: [WORRIED] He’ll tear you to pieces!

Andrew rises, stretching.

ANDREW: Really. Well, let me tell you – I intend to live forever.

He moves away from the others, crossing to the water cooler. He collects a tray and three glass mugs. He fills them with what seems to be perfectly ordinary water.

ANDREW: Or die trying.

NIGEL: Well, I don’t. I hate all that lingering. I tell you, if I have any say in it, I’ll just [SNAPS FINGERS] switch off.

DAVE: Oh? How old would you want to be?

NIGEL: Uh, 940.

Andrew enters, carrying the tray.

ANDREW: Come on, you lot. Refreshments!

They each take a glass and sip it.

DAVE: Andrew, man, what are we going to do?

ANDREW: Bide our time, Dave. We bide our time.

NIGEL: ...as the man said, falling off Centre Point tower.

Nigel, ridiculously amused at this, laughs uproarishly before falling off the couch. His laughter stops suddenly. Andrew frowns and moves to get to his feet. Suddenly, he grimaces, dropping his glass. It smashes to pieces as Andrew collapses back into the chair. He gives an apologetic look at Dave, before his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps back, unconscious. Dave blows out his cheeks, looking slightly bewildered.

DAVE: Must be the... bloody cryptosperidium in the water again...

He drops the glass and, swaying unsteadily, gets to his feet. Very, very carefully, he makes his way over to the front door. Suddenly, his legs fail him and he collapses onto the ground by the door. With all his strength, Dave manages to roll over onto his back, then he dozes off. The door clicks open, to reveal Parker. He smiles evilly. We gradually blur out of focus, mixing the shot to:

To be continued...