AN INSPECTOR CALLS

The bus was silently standing in the depot and hadn't moved for what seemed like an age. The Inspector groaned inwardly. How was he supposed to keep things up to speed if the buses weren't running on time? When he saw the driver, he groaned again. This was all he needed.

His moustache twitching, the Inspector marched up, clipboard in hand. "Oi, what d'you think you're up to? This bus should've been out twenty minutes ago."

The driver looked out from the cab. "Don't start on me, luvvy. I just drive the thing. I can't help it if it decides to play up a bit."

"Play up? Play up?" The Inspector had heard it all before. "Oh, that's nice, that is. I 'ave enough trouble with Butler and the number 11."

"Ay, don't you 'ave a go at my lovely Stan!" The cab door flew open as the driver jumped down. "He's been very good to me, has Stan, and I won't have you saying otherwise."

"Oh, I see," he moaned. "All stick together eh? Never a thought for the poor passengers waiting at the bus stops." The Inspector had had enough. "Now look 'ere, Mrs…"

"It's Ms, to you, sunshine." She raised herself up to her full height. "Ms Iris Wildthyme, time traveller extraordinaire."

"Bleedin' women's lib." With an effort, Inspector Blake, or Blakey, as everyone called him, held his temper. "Look - Ms, all I want is for this depot to run like clockwork. I can't do that if the buses don't run!"

Iris smiled sweetly. "I quite understand, luvvy. But if the bus won't go, then there's not a lot I can do, now is there?"

"Well, get someone to fix it then!" Blakey ranted. He aimed a kick at the nearest tyre, then wished he hadn't, as his boot connected firmly with the metal rim. "Aaw. Oh, my Gawd." He hobbled back, in some pain.

Iris shook her head. "There's no need to take it out on my bus," she complained. "It just needs gentle handling, like its owner."

Blakey's eyes bulged at this. "What are you on about? This ain't your personal property, missus. This bus belongs to London Transport!"

"Oh, you think so, ducky?" Iris eyed the Inspector. "Well, we'll see about that." She clambered back into the cab and turned the ignition key. She grinned as the engine started up first time. "What did I tell you? She just needed a bit of coaxing."

"Never mind ruddy coaxing." Blakey was at the end of his tether. "Just get that bus out!"

"Oooh, keep yer 'air on." Iris gave a friendly wave as the bus slowly trundled out from the depot into the half empty street ahead. "See y'later, luvvy."

The Inspector watched as the number 22 to Putney Common turned into the main road. That woman had been trouble from the moment she'd arrived. She wasn't even dressed in the regulation uniform, he noted, adding that to the long list of complaints against Iris. "Bleedin' women drivers," he moaned. "As if I didn't have enough problems."

As he walked back toward the depot, a resounding crash rang in the Inspector's ears. Turning around, he saw the bus had collided into a Police Telephone Box, a plume of steam billowing out from the engine. And a man dressed in a patchwork frock coat was in the middle of a heated argument with Iris.

Blakey's whole disposition changed in that moment. His mouth quivered into a rare smile, as he jumped up and down on the spot with glee. "Oh ho. Aaww, haaw, haaw, haaw. This 'as made my day, this 'as."

He strode up to the scene of the accident in the certain knowledge that, for now, all was right with the world.