The eleventh incarnation of the Doctor stepped out of the blazing light and wiggled his fingers in front of his face.
"Slim" he said patting his stomach, "big lips" he put a finger to them, "nice teeth" he banged a nail against a tooth, he felt his face, "young, very young" and then ran his fingers through his hair, "ooh big hair, big big big hair" he grinned feeling the mass that was now his own.
"Glad you like it" a voice seemed to whisper, but he ignored it and ran to his wardrobe.
"What shall I wear?" he said looking at the outfits strewn all over the room.
The first one he tried on was a pink leotard, with a frilly tutu; critically he looked at himself in the mirror.
"I like it" the voice said.
"Nope" he decided, "too drafty."
The next item of clothing he tried on was something that Robin Hood would have felt at home in, green cotton tunic, and green leggings, a jaunty hat finished the effect."
"You could shoot the Cybermen with arrows" laughed the voice.
"Yeah, too silly" the Doctor agreed.
A moment later he came out in a all in one silver suit, a helmet on his head, "delete" he said, as he wondered how the dress up outfit had come to be in his TARDIS.
"They would never know you were the Doctor" the voice pointed out.
"Bit tight though" the Doctor commented, taking part of it off, and noticing it was for a ten year old.
Finally after dressing like Margaret Thatcher, including the handbag, Dorothy, including a basket and a small dog called Toto, and a Cilerian wobblegoose he settled on a pair of black jeans, worn with a black t shirt, a woolly cardigan and the obligatory canvas training shoes.
"Nice" the voice commented.
The Doctor looked around, "who are you and what do you want?" he asked, anger seething in his voice.