Hello, Stormageddon. It’s The Doctor, here to help. Be quiet. Go to sleep. No really stop crying. you’ve got a lot to look forward to you know. a normal human life on earth, mortgage repayments, the 9 to 5, a persistent nagging sense of spiritual emptiness. Save the tears for later boyo. Oh that was crabby. No, that was old. But I am old Stormy. I am so old. So near the end. But you, Alfie Owens. You are so young, aren’t you? And you know, right now, everything’s ahead of you. You could be anything. You could walk among the stars. They don’t actually look like that, you know; they are rather more impressive. You know, when I was little like you, I dreamt of the stars. I think it’s fair to say, in the language of your age, that I lived my dream.

An ancient creature, drenched in the blood of the innocent… drifting in space through an endless shifting maze… for such a creature, death would be a gift.

OK, this is bad. At the moment I don’t know how bad, but certainly we’re three buses, a long walk, and eight quid in a taxi from good.