The Valeyard toys with the Doctor

The Valeyard Judges: Asylum of the Daleks

Now this is more like it. No longer am I forced to venture into the Kasterborous staffroom when I feel the need for company, which is just as well since Cawley seems set on  filling it with self-professed geeks; no now I am being entertained at the very highest level.

Myself and Lord Stormageddon are guests of The Parliament of the Daleks and they know how to entertain their guests.

Image credit: Jesse LaxGranted that since we are not native to any particular iteration of Skaro we are forced to sit up the back in a space that was once reserved for the Special Weapons Dalek, but still I feel quite honoured. We sit through some rather interesting items of Dalek business including the dispatch of a team to wipe some of the 60s episodes. However my interest is truly piqued when a team of Daleks wheel in what appears to be an earlier version of my own trusted TARDIS.

Shortly after, my eleventh self and the family Pond are escorted into the chamber at plunger point and suddenly the reason for my invitation becomes crystal clear; they’re going to execute my former self and as per the Act of Master Restitution they require a member of the Gallifreyan High Council to sanction such an act. As a former President I’ll be more than happy to put the official Seal of Rassilon  on such an act.

But it would seem that they’re not even going to wait for my approval and the bow tie wearing fool is bracing himself for a sudden extermination when something that neither of us were expecting occurs. The metal morons start begging to be saved. Fools! Why my fourth self chose to participate in the Genesis of the Daleks rather than the Genocide I’ll never know.

Still he’s swiftly thrown off the Parliament and down towards the Dalek Asylum, but I have my concerns about the thought put into this particular plan. What follows on the Daleks’ view screens flows very much like an episode of the floppy haired idiot’s show, so much so that I find myself subconsciously reviewing it.

All begins well as the Ginger Pond and the Raggedy Doctor stumble into a spaceship full of Dalek Zombies after leaving Rory trapped down in a vault packed full of dusty old Daleks from the first run of my predecessors. I’ll confess to being quite excited to view the Special Weapons Dalek and make a mental note to call into the vault to pick one up before my triumphant return to Kasterborous Towers. Watching the usually formidable Rory tiptoe round a collection of some of the most ruthless, if not the smartest, killers in the known universe makes for rather tense viewing.

The three of them only seem to make progress due to an inside source and again I’m forced to wonder if Davros could have made his creations just a little more reliable in the old brains circuits.

Needless to say the Doctor manages to complete his assigned task by talking an awful lot and straightening his bowtie. Although I must confess the look on his face when he discovers that the latest female he planned to kidnap and tour the stars with is in actual fact a Dalek will stay with me for a very long time and keep me quite amused during otherwise dull nights. Besides, if you’re going to have a Dalek for a companion surely you’d want a Special Weapons Dalek? I mean, have you seen the size of it’s gun? It’s almost worth the complete lack of plunger.

Still I remain in my seat as the improvised Dalek task force return to the Parliament, surely now there’s nothing to prevent the Sons of Skaro from finally executing him.

Except they now have no idea who he is. How did that happen? They’re just letting him go. Fools! They think he’s just another humanoid as he’s scarpering in his TARDIS.

But, wait a moment; if they don’t know who he is how are they going to know who I am? I can already feel a rather unpleasant number of eyestalks turning my way. Thankfully Lord Stormageddon has, as always, anticipated my needs and has my TARDIS ready for a swift departure.

Although I may stop off and collect that Special Weapons Dalek on the way home…

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