Author's note: No idea where the idea for this came, I just found something wrote in my notebook while thumbing through it just now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, Little Britain, or Tom Baker. Although I would rather like that last part. Oh, Tom, I would just to hear you say my name...

"Martha!" he yelled over his shoulder, eyes not leaving the apparition before him.

"Ah." The apparition said, then grinned.

"MARTHA!" he screamed, showing off all of his own teeth in a pained expression.

"What is it Doctor?" a petulant voice answered. The baggy-pant clad man snapped his head in the direction of the voice.

The big haired man sighed, eyes bulging slightly. "What?!" he asked after a minutes silent calculations. "I don't remember this happening. Well, I mean, now I do, but it is only because it is now happening to me to you and, ugh, my head." He grabbed his hair, eyebrows drawn down in confusion.

The Doctor standing in front of him shook his head slightly, curls bobbing jauntily. He grinned again and thrust his hands into baggy trouser pockets.

Martha walked in at that moment, a cellphone in one hand and a bag of crisps in the other. She stood looking at the two men in confusion, when suddenly the world rocked under her feet, sending all three of them to the floor.

"Oh, no no no no no no no no no no!" the older Doctor screamed, his voice rising in pitch. "No no no no no no no no…" followed him as he ran out of the room, shoes ringing on the grating underneath. Martha followed him with her eyes, then snapped her head back at the retro man in front of her.

"Uh…" she managed finally.

"Ah." He responded.

She thought for a second, then proffered her bag to him. "Frito?"

He thought for a second, and accepted, taking one of the nasty confections and popping it into his mouth.

"So…" she responded "Wha… what.. who…"

"I believe you are trying to ask me for an explanation. I am afraid that I have no answer. Jelly Baby?" he thrust a paper napkin towards her.

"..No no no no no no no no no no no…" the blue suited Doctor ran back into the room and through another door, while carrying something big and unwieldy.

"What was that?" she asked after a seconds pause.

"I do not know. But I would hazard a guess of… a particle beam demagnetizer."

"A what?"

He kept a thoughtful look on his face, then grinned. "I don't know, I just threw some words together." His eyes got big. "Was I convincing?"

"No no no no no no no no.." he ran through and stopped for a second, making a loud gasping sound. He shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair again, then ran off again, resuming his stream of babbling.

"I've come to a conclusion," the tall older man said.

"What's that then?" she asked.

"I believe that he is me, and he has already worked that out. Unless I become a spastic after too many benders."

"Yes yes yes yes yes yes," they heard as he ran back through the room, now holding a pot of boiling liquid.

"Oh, I see." She looked over the Doctor in front of her. "You've changed a bit."

He looked down at himself. Baggy trousers, beat up leather boots, a red jacket with glaringly obvious elbow patches and a gaudy scarf greeted him. "What's wrong with this?" he asked after a moment's confusion.

"Oh! Nothing, nothing. Just, I can't picture him wearing anything that isn't a half size too small." She hooked a thumb in the direction where faint scrabbling and buzzing sounds emanated.

"Ah, yes, he, I do seem to have changed my sense in fashion. But I like these pants, they are not so harsh on my junk." He grinned boyishly. Her eyes bulged and her cheeks flushed slightly. He seemed not to notice. "So, by your accent, I would say that I keep to my pattern of picking up London girls. Ah, Britain! Britain, Britain, Britain…" he shook his head as he mused.

She continued to avert her gaze, until a thought occurred to her. "Wait, what was that?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Well, I do not mean to be crass, but your accent places you from my most favorite of cities on that planet called Earth. And you are quite lovely, if I do say so. I have excellent taste, I must say."

"No, no, no," she began, thinking furiously.

"Are you imitating him now?" he asked, looking pointedly at the empty doorway where sounds of anger and frustration were coming.

"NO! Just, say that last bit again,"

"Are you imi-"

"THE BIT ABOUT BRITAIN!"

"You mean, "Britain, Britain, Britain?" he asked.

Her eyes got big. "That's it! I knew I knew that voice!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Pardon?"

She pointed at him. "It is you though, isn't it? The narrator!"

He touched his hands to his chest. "I am the Doctor, if that is what you mean."

She shook her head. "No, no, it can't be. That is impossible."

He tilted his head to the side. "You are making no sense, young woman."

"Listen, but you sound just like him; you sound like the narrator for Little Britain."

"What is that?"

"YES!" the older Doctor came running back in, black brainy specs hanging off his face. "Good bye Doctor, this will all make sense in a few hundred years!" he pressed a button.

"Quite so. Good bye Doctor, Martha." He looked her over appreciatively. "I look forward to meeting you again, Martha Jones. Nobody in my series was half as attractive." The older Doctor gaped, a bleeding heart expression on his face.

"Rose," he said quietly.

"No, but wait, I know it is you, why don't you answer me?" she yelled at the man in front of her.

"Well-" He disappeared out of existence.

She made a rude noise. "Typical of you to sidestep a question like that!" she shoved her Doctor. "You were always such a jerk!" she stomped off, leaving him standing, looking confused.

"What happened?" he asked no one in particular.

"I must go now as I promised my homies we'd chill for a bit, drink some pimp juice and god willing get us some sweet booty," a ghostly voice responded.

"Well, that explains it," the tenth incarnation said.