Sorry if this offends anyone. It made me laugh while I was doing my Christmas shopping. If you can work it out before Ianto you'll get an imaginary cookie.

I seem to have gone very Ianto-centric recently. But I don't suppose it can be a bad thing.

N.B. I have a feeling that this may require two readings. If you still don't get bits, ask!

'Might as Well Install a Revolving Door'

Ianto glanced around and, for lack of anything better to do, joined the end of the line. It seemed to be formed from a lot of office-workers, who despite their apparent bemusement had still managed to keep the time-honoured British tradition of forming an orderly queue. As the line edged forward, the gate beyond came into sight, behind the passport control office (or at least that's what it looked like) that was causing the delay. Ianto resigned himself to waiting.

The clerk at the desk had obviously had a long day, though the immaculate white shirt he was wearing didn't reflect it. He rubbed his forehead as Ianto stood politely in front of him.

"What a day. Name?"

"Ianto Jones."

The secretary scrolled down with his mouse, presumably scanning a list of names. "Found the right door at last, I see."

"Sorry?"

"Your lot always get it wrong. Causes no end of paperwork." The secretary sniffed. "The amount of times you wander in and out, like this was a holiday camp. You've no idea. Messes up the system no end." He peered closer at the screen. "No, it is your first time. That makes things easier."

"Yes. I expect so." Ianto wondered idly whether things were going to be explained any time soon, and decided that this was unlikely.

"Causes a lot of trouble, of course, not doing the thing properly. But it's better now we've reworked the layout – to meet demand, you know. It was all my idea." The secretary leaned out of the little window to check the queue behind Ianto. There wasn't one. "I can show it to you, if you like, now that government lot's gone. We don't often get a lull. And I'm quite proud of it, if I might say so myself."

"Oh, yes. Of course."

The man came out and locked the door of his little booth. He was taller than Ianto and strode along in front of him, talking all the while. "They said 'we might as well install a revolving door' – that's how often you were all showing up at the wrong time – and I said 'why not?' Look, here it is."

He stood proudly in front of what looked like a large smoky black glass cylinder, which, when you looked closely, was indeed a giant revolving door. Ianto made the appropriate sounds of approval, and hoped this would be satisfactory.

"It's got a few flaws of course, but it works pretty well. People go in, it's black so they can't see what they shouldn't be seeing – official secrets and all that – and they wander round in circles until we can sort them out or they find their way out. Apparently it's quite echoey in there, and people get a bit frightened. Think things are after them, that sort of nonsense. Speeds them up though, so we get them out faster, which is always good. I suppose it might discourage them from coming this way again, though that never seems to work with your Jack. We practically built this just for him." He gave the glass a fond pat and started to stroll away. "Saves me no end of paperwork, like I said. And others use it too, every so often. We had one woman stuck in there for months once, and I think at some point last year another one of your lot got trapped in the door coming out."

They had reached the desk again now, and Ianto still didn't feel any more enlightened than when he had started talking to the man.

"Can I get your autograph?"

"Sorry?"

"I have a collection, of all the interesting people I meet when I'm on duty."

"Er, ok."

"Excellent." The man rummaged, and produced a book. Ianto didn't get time to see the label on the front before it was opened for him.

"What would you like me to write?" he asked, at the same time reading the last comment. It announced, in Owen's untidy scrawl "I don't damn well know why you want this, but I already signed my soul away years ago, so it should be safe enough. Dr Owen Harper."

"Oh, anything you like."

"Who should I address it to?" Ianto can't remember ever having to sign an autograph before.

"Peter will do."

Ianto inscribed the name neatly."To Peter. Many thanks for showing me your wonderful door design. From Ianto Jones." It looked lame, even to him, but he can't think of anything else. Peter beamed at him as he read it.

By this time a queue was starting to form again, and Peter looked at him sorrowfully. "Very glad to meet you, and I'm sure you'll manage everything fine. I'm afraid I have to go now, otherwise we'll get a backlog. I haven't had a day off in millennia, certainly not now there's so many of you down there, and I probably won't get another one off again now until someone finds a way of stopping death. But thank you for brightening up my day." He waved Ianto on, already turning to the next person.

"Sorry - can I ask a quick question?"

"Of course."

"Am I right in saying that we aren't in London any more?"

"Yes, thank heaven."

Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Literally." Saint Peter, Keeper of the Doors of Heaven, added, then gave a nervous smile. "Just my little joke. Enjoy your stay."

Ok. Christmas is coming round again, so if there's any short stories (mark the adjective there) you'd like to suggest, I'm willing to have a go at writing them to make up for that one. Or even just a word or a phrase, seeing as I wrote this story purely from the title-quote. Submit reviews/questions/requests below!