Saturday, 7 November 2015

Miss Zygon.

So Clara My Clara is actually a" Zygon his Zygon." not quite in the manner I expected but what a sneak. And what a lot of Zygons hidden amongst the population of the Earth, twenty million, that is twenty million pass ports with a blank space where a face should be. I cannot think why such a fantastic looking alien creature would want to masquerade as generic mac brown wrap human beings unless it is as the Doctor suggested and they are actually just trying to get state benefits. The Zygons are such fantastic looking creatures and all their bio-tech is equally fascinating, very squidgey.
  The Doctor fairly came to grips with their organic machinery slipping and sliding all over the "frondiness" of that control panel. Dipping and slapping away like a Zygon driving test instructor.
That raspy breathy way of speaking is just the perfect delivery for otherworldly threats. They must constantly have to modulate the way they rasp. There are after all only so many Fisherman's friends one can suck. Oh-er! I had hoped The Loch Ness Monster was going to put in an appearance. I have never forgot the sight of The Skarassen chasing The Doctor across the heather blanketed moor following the signal device in his pocket. I suppose with another episode of Zygon naughtiness to go. It is not too late to repeat that exciting adventure. Complex political analogies aside you cannot beat our hero being chased across a lonely Scottish moor by a fabled monster to up the thrill factor. Those orange skinned impersonators live on the lactic fluid of their specially engineered and swamp reared beasts. They milk them like giant prehistoric cows. It may sound disgusting but its no worse than a town centre full of stunned shoppers quaffing down slurpies composed of no matter found in nature. The milk of human blandness.
Oh by the way, did you happen to see the portrait of The Doctor in his first incarnation hanging on a shabby wall in UNIT HQ? It was on the supporting wall beneath a flight of steps that Kate Stewart raced down. It is a real charming painting of the old high church one himself all somber Edwardian Boffin. Maybe it will one day be part of The Great Curator's collection..
                     Who knows...