"I don't see why you didn't find that funny Doctor." Jo said as the latest skit on the show she and the Doctor were watching ended.
"In the latter half of the 21st century, little blue-haired old ladies are..." The Doctor started, trailing off as he tried to find the perfect adjective for the last generations born in the Twentieth Century.
"A pub, or as the Americans call them, a bar, is a good place to get information." The Doctor said as he passed a row of bikes, nervously eying them as he did so. "Just try not to say anything offensive this time Jamie, I'd rather not be forced to duck out of a barfight."
The music that hit almost like a shockwave the instant the door to the bar was opened sounded like Gangsta Rap. No-one inside seemed to be listening to it however, since they all had headsets belonging to hands-free devices that could do everything from play music to adjust the temperature of the shower before you stepped inside. Headsets that could cancel out the surrounding noise and play whatever the hell you wanted to listen to if you weren't say, in a conversation with somebody in China for instance.
The Pool table, which had rapidly shifting advertisements, what looked like two televison shows, and the evening news running across its surface, had a holographic display above it which showed high scores from around the world. Apparently, Doctor, The had just beaten out Rani, The for that day's high score somewhere in Tokyo.
Walking through the rapidly shifting lights that wouldn't have been out of place at a Rave a few decades earlier which were adding to the general sensory overload that the establishment's other patrons were rather expertly ignoring, he made his way to the bar. On his way, as he was dealing with the sensory overload that he was finding harder to ignore - quite likely because his senses were sharper and he had more of than than a human - he nearly ran into an elderly woman who accidentally spilled the drink she was carrying on herself due to the sudden stop she had been forced to come to. The fury in the woman's eyes was easy to read, and the yellow Iris coloring made her look positively demonic.
The woman who looked to be about seventy-five years old who was about his height set her drinks down on a nearby table that was occupied by women who looked to be in their sixties and seventies as most of the bar's clientele appeared to be. All of the women had unusually colored hair, ranging from the almost tame blonde to the bright blue spikes of the woman whom he'd just accidentally caused to spill her drinks. The woman whose arms were covered in tattoos which looked to have been touched up recently, and whose ears showed signs of having been stretched in the past, and whose navel - which was revealed by the high cut shirt and the low cut jeans she was wearing - was pierced.
"Let's just say that the Hell's Grannies don't beat you about the head with purses and leave it at that." The Doctor said as he picked up the dematerialization circuit on his way out of the TARDIS's media library and started another round of his perpetual repair attempt.