The Doctor shook himself off and gasped. Being killed really wasn’t a nice feeling- and he’d done it eight times now! The TARDIS purred along at a steady speed; they were in flight, even if the Doctor couldn’t remember putting her into gear himself. Well, at least there were no more angry Sontarons here. It was a thought that only slightly placated the Doctor. He was frustrated. They were in flight! Where were they headed?
“Is this who I am now?” he mused. “Frustrated, cockney, and-” he looked up to the mirror again, “-I’m not ginger. How can that work? Nine lives and none of them ginger! That’s so not fair!”
Having managed to cut his hair, the Doctor went on the hunt for some clothes. He led a constant train of thought through the air as he went, poking around tirelessly as his ‘past’ clothes hung limply.
“Right… I feel like something…not too suave. Hmm, no bowties, ‘cause they don’t suit this hair, and I don’t think a trench-coat would work. I don’t want to look even skinnier!”
He was about to ask the thin air what it thought when he realised that he’d left the last companion in some park on Earth before he had ‘met up’ with the Sontarons.
“Stupid Sontarons,” the Doctor grumbled. “If I weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be here right now searching for some new clothes- ah!”
That had reminded him! The Doctor jumped out of the strewn pile of clothes he had been rummaging around in, pushed a button on the mirror, and stepped through to a different part of the closet-place that lay in the heart of the TARDIS. There lay boxes upon boxes. One was, helpfully, titled ‘new clothes’ (though they had probably gone past new now).
“Aha!” the Doctor said, plunging towards the box and breaking its seal. Inside were some neatly folded clothes.
“Hmm…top hat or no top hat?” he remarked to the object as he slid it onto his head. It fitted but, nevertheless, the Doctor slipped it into a pocket of the leather jacket he had just discovered. Lastly, after a change of trousers into some slimmer, dark corduroys, the Doctor turned to observe himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the closet’s door.
“Now, that’s not too bad! Perhaps this body doesn’t not suit me after all…”
And so, the Doctor strolled happily back to the main control room. By the sounds of it, the TARDIS had landed when he was in the midst of clothe-choosing and, racing to the monitor, the Doctor noticed an unfamiliar, alien landscape outside. It was orange, like sunburn sand, but little green trees popped up ever so often, their bright heads adorned with strange pink fruits. This was a new planet for a new Doctor. And the best bit was: it looked inhabitable!
The Doctor skipped down the entrance-ramp, pleased with himself for no apparent reason.
All right,” he finally told the TARDIS, his hand upon the latch to her door, “let’s see what awaits me outside. No doubt some fabulous adventure where I’ll end up getting killed. Oh, I wish I wasn’t so sarcastic!” he added with a grunt.