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The corporate style rules

Super sque­aky bum time! You hit me with a cri­cket bat. You’­ve swal­lo­wed a pla­net! You know how I some­ti­mes have real­ly bril­li­ant ide­as? Anni­hi­l­ate? No. No vio­lence. I won’t stand for it. Not now, not ever, do you under­stand me?! I’m the Doc­tor, the Onco­m­ing Storm — and you basi­cal­ly meant beat them in a foot­ball match, did­n’t you?

All I’ve got to do is pass as an ordi­na­ry human being. Simp­le. What could pos­si­b­ly go wrong? Father Christ­mas. San­ta Claus. Or as I’ve always known him: Jeff. All I’ve got to do is pass as an ordi­na­ry human being. Simp­le. What could pos­si­b­ly go wrong? They’­re not ali­ens, they’­re Earth…liens! All I’ve got to do is pass as an ordi­na­ry human being. Simp­le. What could pos­si­b­ly go wrong? Aw, you’­re all Mr. Grum­py Face today.

I hate yogurt. It’s just stuff with bits in. It’s a fez. I wear a fez now. Fezes are cool. Did I men­ti­on we have comfy chairs? I am the Doc­tor, and you are the Daleks! The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things.…hey.…the good things don’t always sof­ten the bad things; but vice-ver­sa the bad things don’t necessa­ri­ly spoil the good things and make them unim­portant. No… It’s a thing; it’s like a plan, but with more greatness.

Sor­ry, che­cking all the water in this area; there’s an escaped fish. You know when grown-ups tell you ‘everything’s going to be fine’ and you think they’­re pro­bab­ly lying to make you feel bet­ter? All I’ve got to do is pass as an ordi­na­ry human being. Simp­le. What could pos­si­b­ly go wrong? Aw, you’­re all Mr. Grum­py Face today. They’­re not ali­ens, they’­re Earth…liens! Saving the world with meals on wheels.

Father Christ­mas. San­ta Claus. Or as I’ve always known him: Jeff. Did I men­ti­on we have comfy chairs? Father Christ­mas. San­ta Claus. Or as I’ve always known him: Jeff. Stop tal­king, brain thin­king. Hush.

I’m the Doc­tor. Well, they call me the Doc­tor. I don’t know why. I call me the Doc­tor too. I still don’t know why. You hate me; you want to kill me! Well, go on! Kill me! KILL ME! No… It’s a thing; it’s like a plan, but with more greatness.

Heh-haa! Super sque­aky bum time! I’m the Doc­tor. Well, they call me the Doc­tor. I don’t know why. I call me the Doc­tor too. I still don’t know why. I’m the Doc­tor, I’m worse than everyone’s aunt. *cat­ches hims­elf* And that is not how I’m intro­du­cing mys­elf. Saving the world with meals on wheels. Stop tal­king, brain thin­king. Hush. Anni­hi­l­ate? No. No vio­lence. I won’t stand for it. Not now, not ever, do you under­stand me?! I’m the Doc­tor, the Onco­m­ing Storm — and you basi­cal­ly meant beat them in a foot­ball match, did­n’t you?

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