Doctor What?

Ah, I see that, as ever, when an apocalypse approaches, small piles of fire appear, scattered randomly about the streets. I'll certainly know what to look out for when the end of the world edges nearer. Or maybe, in fact, it's the small piles of fire that are trying to take over the planet, and are merely piggy backing onto another alien lifeform's attempt at seizing control. They certainly help to add to the general look and feel of an apocalypse - and, after all, it's important to get the aesthetics right or no one will take you seriously.

On another note, my father, on the verge of carking it for the past 15 years or so, has been through a fair few doctors in his time (I'm talking GPs not Timelords). Of that vast throng, one was called Doctor Watson; another Doctor Pepper (honestly). Now he just needs to seek out a Doctor Who for the full complement of famous doctors. Let's hope he lives long enough to find one. Speaking of which, my mother's buggered off on holiday without him again. Along with the other sisters, I've been asked to ring him regularly to check he's not dead. Poor old dad. We do tease him so. But when you've been banging on about how ill you are and how you don't think you've got long left. For 15 bloody years. You can't expect to get away without a bit of sarky comment from your exasperated daughters.