Malcolm Tucker did not like having to ask people for help. He especially didn't like to have to ask for help from people he loathed, which to be fair, was pretty much everyone. He glared at his phone, punching in the numbers hard enough to almost crack the screen.
He'd only met the smug big-eared bastard once, but he had no desire to repeat the experience. He just couldn't stand the idea of the man wandering his halls, with that stupid fucking leather coat and that damned screwdriver he kept pointing at things. Christ, he really hated him.
But the world was ending. And not in the Nicola and her merry band of fucking idiots at DoSAC have fucked up again way either. No, this was actual armageddon shite. And the PM was too proud to make the damned call, which meant the task fell to Malcolm.
He drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk as the phone rang and rang. He was not used to people keeping him waiting. The great Northern prick was probably doing it on purpose.
Malcolm was just about to hang up (or rather, fling his phone violently across the room) when someone finally picked up.
"Hello?"
Malcolm blinked, the voice on the other end of the line much more female and Scottish than he had been expecting.
"Who the hell is this?"
"Excuse me, rude angry man. But you're the one who called us!"
"Just put the leather-clad pansy on the phone, would you?"
"Who?" The woman sounded both angry and confused. "Who is this?"
"It's Malcolm fucking Tucker from the Prime Minster's Office, would you just put tell the fucking Doctor that he needs to teleport his stupid blue box here and stop the fucking world from exploding in a flaming ball of shit."
There was a long pause in which he heard the muffled voice of the woman relaying his message (minus much of the swearing), presumably to the Doctor.
"We'll be right there," she said, coming back onto the phone.
"Thank you ever-so-fucking much," Malcolm said. He sighed and hit the 'end call' button, but not before he heard her ask, "Did you really used to wear leather? How do you go from leather to tweed and bowties?" Malcolm suppressed a shudder.
It was going to be a long day.
-
Coming up:
Malcolm meeting the Eleventh Doctor; details of his previous encounter with Nine; Amy, Jamie and lots of shouting; Ollie's badly timed attempts at flirtation; oh! and the end of the world.