Doctor Who

A long time ago, back in the village when I was a small boy,

a fire was eating the forest.

People running and screaming.

But me, I ran to the river with my little cup to get water.

They laughed at me. "What are you doing?"

"What I can!" I shouted and ran back to pour it on the fire.

Suddenly, a blue box appeared in the skies over the fire.

And a man stood at the door with a hosepipe.

Spraying and spraying

until all the fires went out.

He landed the box in the middle of the burnt forest

and started scattering fresh seeds.

I went over to thank him.

"Are you a farmer?" I asked.

"No. I am the Doctor."

We shook hands. And that's how we met.

- -Nice. Good. Great…

Great story.

And you're sure that this Doctor will come?

Yes.

He always comes when needed.

-Hey! - Walahi!

The Doctor… we need him now. It needs feeding.

You need to get me home.

I promise I am doing everything I can to--

Wait.

Oh, why did I not think of this before?

Ah, we can boost the Vindicator if we go to…

-Of course! -Go where?

Lagos, Nigeria.

It has the largest communications technology market in Africa.

And it's near Omo's Palace.

-Omo's Palace? -My favourite barbershop.

Omo, the owner, is a friend of mine. We met in a fire.

Barbershop? But the TARDIS does your hair.

It does. It does.

Uh, I don't go there for cuts. It's hard to explain.

Okay… Try explaining.

- -

Ah. 2019. A great year.

I'm not human.

I am an evolved life-form.

And, uh…

…my body changes a lot.

It's the first time I've had this Black body.

In some parts of the Earth I'm now treated differently.

But here, in Africa, in that barbershop, I'm accepted.

I'm able to forget.

We…

Boy, we…

we laugh. We tell stories. They…

Treat you like one of their own?

Yeah.

My nan took me to India whenever she could for the same reason.

You say you're not human, but that's the most human thing ever, Doctor.

Go on then. Take as long as you need.

This is gonna look so nice on you. So nice.

- -Auntie!

- -Oh!

I'm good, my guy.

Brother!

- Hey! -Hey! How are you?

Uncle.

- How far, now? -How far, now? You're good?

Yeah.

And that is why the tortoise has a cracked shell.

- Omo? - Doctor.

-Hey! - Come in.

- -

I told you he would come.

You! You ruined the end now.

-It might not be enough. -Excuse you?

Omo, who does he think he's talking to?

Wait. You're on the missing posters.

All of you. They're on the walls outside.

Rashid, Tunde, Obioma.

Doctor, you haven't come in years.

And standards have slipped. Damp and misty outside, dusty in here.

It's not me.

New management.

Welcome.

I've been expecting you.

Welcome to my establishment.

Your establishment? Why's the street deserted?

Why isn't Obioma leaving?

Why are they on all the missing posters?

They cannot leave.

No one can.

You are the all-knowing Doctor who is supposed to save us

and you don't know anything, huh?

Save you from what?

Rest… …Obioma. He hasn't been in years.

He doesn't know. He never makes appointments.

Yes. Besides, appointments never work in Africa.

What are you talking about?

Who's next?

Your hair.

We're running out of stories!

Look at his hair.

Me. I've got this.

Once upon a time, a great musician Yo-Yo Ma,

was travelling through Botswana collecting local music,

when he heard a shaman singing.

Yo-Yo Ma said, "Stop. Wow. I have to write this down."

He wrote a bit, then said, "Carry on."

But the shaman sang a completely different song.

Yo-Yo Ma said, "No. Sing the first one."

The shaman said, "I cannot.

The first time, an antelope was in the distance.

Clouds covered the sun.

The second time, clouds had gone, antelope disappear, so the song changed."

You see, in the old days, music was a live thing.

But after industrial revolution,

people became obsessed with producing identical things to package time.

But not in Africa.

That is why we say we will come at 1:00 but won't arrive till 3:00.

So, appointments, bad idea.

I don't know how much more I can take. The tension is getting unbearab--

Wow. Wow.

Incredible.

The drawings in the window are a visual interpretation of his story.

Cool, right?

Dalek. Cybermen. Weeping Angels.

Uh, you need to be getting a cut for that to work.

They're all connected. The windows, chairs, his clippers.

And you must tell a story, Doctor.

We must feed it. It is always hungry.

What is hungry, Omo?

The Barber controls it. Him and Abby.

Uh…

Are we under attack? TARDIS? Hello?

Thank you again, Abby.

Abby?

Every day she brings us food. We'd be lost without her.

I know that face.

Why do I know your face?

- -

What have I done to--

We know who you are.

Intergalactic busybody Time Lord.

Last of his kind and so on.

So you told them, Omo?

How could I not? You're the greatest story I know.

Well, if you put it like that.

But why do I know her face? Abby.

The Barber's assistant?

She told me that they both used to work for her father,

but he was mean, so they left.

Her father?

And they're keeping you here?

Until we reach their destination.

We're travelling?

This is…

Oh, Omo, what is going on?

It's the Barber.

He turned up one day and offered to give me a haircut in my own shop.

I thought it was a nice thing. I said, "Okay."

He brought out his own clippers.

And as soon as they touched me, a sort of current just ran through the whole shop.

And like magic, like witchcraft, it seemed to transfer itself, its soul to him.

I tried to open the door. My keys didn't work.

Tried to stop my clients, but the shop demanded a select few.

The ones who love this place. They pushed in.

These are men I've known for years.

Decades. They're like sons to me.

I came to get a trim for my child's naming ceremony.

My wife…

We'd been married for less than a year.

I'm an athlete. Relay, 100 metres.

I came to get a cut for the championship.

I miss my team and my big sister. She trained me.

My mother is in hospital.

Omo was lending me money for her medicine.

I wanted a fresh cut to see her.

There's someone waiting for me too, Doctor.

The girl with the blue earrings the day we met.

We both came to the city together,

but I spent most of my time in here

and not enough with her.

So, whose story will enchant us now?

- I don't-- I don't have anything. -You don't have to say anything.

I'll speak.

Let me out.

Tell a story.

-It's the only way. -I changed my mind.

Doctor, tell it for us. It will be easier for you. A big story.

Okay. You want a story about Weeping Angels and Ice Warriors,

but nothing is more vivid than an ordinary life.

One person. Belinda.

On any given day, nurses are knackered, and after a 13-hour shift, she was done.

His pictures are alive.

She was going home, but she heard something.