Dear Father Christmas,
This year, I have been a very good little boy. I have sometimes lied, and I have always helped Earth with their chores. And I always say thank you, which makes me seem like I care, and so I deserve lots of love this year!
Please bring all this stuff for me and the people in my life:
For Jack, please bring him a session of Anger Management classes. He's far too aggressive, which makes him unapproachable unless you're drunk. Also, he's scarily happy around guns, which is okay for him as he's pratically immortal, but for everyone else? They're crapping themselves.
For Rose, bring her some fashion sense and tell her her mother is NOT a good role model for living your life. For the other me, can you try and get a piece of the TARDIS across? It's just that Rose nags constantly, and I think it's driving him insane. He needs to get out of there.
For my dog K-9, please bring a data bank on tennis. He forgot it all. Oh – and for my mail man, please bring some work ethic and good manners. It's not my fault that I'm a time traveller.
Now for me! Please bring me a companion that will not try to snog me 24/7 or kiss me to "save the universe" - can't there just be one who's happy with space travel? Also, could you possibly bring all of the Star Trek action figures too, and front row tickets to Star Trek The Musical – plus backstage passes so I can get behind the scenes and kick their ass?
And please don't forget to bring back my horse, Arthur. Now that Rose isn't here I can keep him! But if you can't, just remember that more than anything Santa, what I really really need is just £1000! I could do with to pay for the countless parking tickets I've earned.
And please, please please can you spare me all of the dramatics this year? No space titanic, giant spiders, cybermen or anything? And no innocent people dying, I'm sick of doing the whole guilt-trip routine over and over again. I had enough of that at the end of series 4. Don't say that I didn't warn you. Apply all of the above. Otherwise I'm cancelling Christmas next year.
Anyway, I hope you like the Space Jelly I left out for you. Tesco ran out of mince pies.
The Doctor.
PS: Please say sorry to the baby Jesus, I think I got the last room at the inn.
And you don't need to bring anything for the Master. He's dead.
