 The Secret
Diary of Dennis Brent - Volume II
18th May
Damn. I opened my diary a few minutes ago and found that someone had
stolen the last week’s worth of entries. They appeared to have been chewed
out by teeth that could only belong to a moose. Or possibly a dear. Or
something similar. How bizarre. Oh well, the events of the coup won’t
easily be forgotten – it hardly seems worth writing them out again – I
think I’ll save that chore for my autobiography <g>
19th May
I saw this letter in the new issue of “Doctor Who” Magazine.
Dear Mr Hickman,
I recently had the pleasure of attending a book signing by the noted
telehsitorian Mr Dennis Brent. He was autographing copies of his new
book ‘Doctor Who – The Neckware Chronicles’ (a magnificent volume
detailing ever single item of neckware worn during the 26 years of
production) and took the time to speak to everyone. A refreshing change
from the behaviour of stars at some of the more popular signings. Mr
Brent and I chatted about fascinating technical matters for over an hour
and we’d probably still be chatting now if my appendix hadn’t decided to
burst. If you ever get a chance to see Mr Brent “live” I would strongly
recommend it – he is the most interesting person I have ever met.
Yours sincerely
Felicity Bobbins (Miss)
I decided to be modest and frame this letter and send copies to all my
friends. If I had been an egomaniac (like my friend Ian Devine) I would’ve
laminated the copies <g>
20th May
Grantham sent me congratulations on the letter in “DW”M and brought his
scrap book of praise for his various “reference” works. I yawned my way
through his collection. Wicks sent me a note saying ‘well done, Dennis
Brent’ and added a supposedly amusing post script asking how much I had
paid her to write that. I sent him a tart reply saying I had no need to
bribe people and, indeed, I considered corruption to be morally
disreputable. I added a post script to say that I would expect an apology
by return.
21st May
Wicks is refusing to apologise for his “joke”. I have let him know, via
Grantham, that I am not talking to him. Grantham conveyed my message and
returned some time later to say that Wicks is now no longer talking to me.
Wicks is so very childish, I do despair sometimes.
22nd May
I am in a state of shock. Ian Devine – who has been living with me for
some time – has taken Wicks’s side. Grantham is staying neutral and my
brother Donald is abroad. I am all alone in this argument. Grantham, Wicks
and Ian Devine met up at the Elk and Bush tonight (which, to make matters
worse, is Quiz Night) as I overheard a telephone conversation. I have
spent the evening cataloguing my socks and asking myself quiz style
questions.
23rd May
Wicks has brainwashed Grantham as Grantham has abandoned his neutral
stance and joined the Wicks camp. I tried to contact my friend Midders in
the Morning but when I dialled his number I inexplicably got through to a
Mexican gentleman by the name of Senor Middez. I have telephoned everyone
in my address book but neither of them is prepared to be my friend and
back me up in this dispute with Wicks.
24th May
Ian Devine isn’t talking to me. Grantham isn’t talking to me and Wicks
hasn’t been talking to me for days now. I sent an olive branch to Wicks in
the form of a small pie but I suspect it didn’t reach him. Foolishly I
asked Ian Devine to deliver it. Then, Wicks not having telephoned me to
thank me for the pie, I accused Ian Devine of eating it en route. I then
lost my temper and accused Grantham of being a traitor. Ian Devine has
announced that he is moving out of Brent Towers and will be, henceforth,
living with Grantham and Wicks at their cottage in Shagford. I am, if
Chrysanthemum Piesburg-Devine ever turns up, to send her to Shagford. This
is, I was told in no uncertain terms, the only occasion upon which I am to
make use of their address. Then they formally stopped talking to me. I
wish Miss Bobbins had never written that bloody letter to “Doctor Who”
Magazine. It has caused no end of trouble.
25th May
I was sat (alone) in the Elk and Bush, being actively ignored by Wicks,
Grantham and Ian Devine, when someone said a chirpy “Hello”. I looked up
from my half of real ale and there stood a very pretty young lady. “Are
you a prostitute ?” I asked, experience having taught me that it is always
worth clearing the air and avoiding later problems.
“No” she replied. “My name is Felicity Bobbins.”
I noticed Wicks, Grantham and Ian Devine pricked up their ears when she
said this.
“Miss Bobbins ? From the pages of “Doctor Who” Magazine ?” I asked.
“I’m sorry about that letter – you must be fed up of reading such fannish
nonsense. I’m terribly embarrassed about it but I couldn’t help myself.”
“It was very refreshing” I told her. “I don’t get as much public praise as
I deserve.”
“You must.”
“I don’t”
“I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true.”
“Are you here on your own?” she asked. I looked over to the enforced (and
wholly shallow) enjoyment on display at ‘the other’ table and nodded.
“I prefer my own company when I’m in writing mood” I told her. I explained
at length that I was preparing to write a précis of the synopsis for the
proposal for the novel I was hoping to send to Justin Richards’ friend
Jacqueline Rayner. Her eyes went like saucers as she hung on my every
word. I went into detail about the plot (a squad of Tenth Planet Cybermen
join up with a troop of Invasion Cybermen to find the ice tombs on Telos
and extract some Tomb style Cybermen. Together they would scour space
looking for the remains of the Earthshock Cybermen fleet and, once this
had been achieved, the Cyber mega-army would invade Gallifrey. Chapter two
would see them turn some of the Time Lords into CyberLords and forge an
alliance with some Dalek Invasion of Earth style Daleks and go in search
of the Genesis of the Daleks version of Davros etc). Ian Devine, Wicks and
Grantham looked over a few times, jealous of the fun that Felicity and I
were having. I let them know that the boot was on the other foot now and I
was shunning them.
Later – Felicity asked if she could come back to Brent Towers and I,
emboldened by three half pints of real ale, said she could. She was
adamant that she didn’t want to sleep in Ian Devine’s bed (she may very
well sink into it as if it were the plastic chair from Terror of the
Autons <g>) and eventually persuaded me that she wanted to sleep in
Dennis’s bed. I am writing this from the sofa as I explained that the
central heating in Brent Towers was more than adequate and her suggestion
we “snuggle up for warmth” was unnecessary. I am troubled – I feel there
is a subtext in the things she says and does which I’ve not yet
understood. Perhaps she is a thief like Chrysanthemum Piesburg-Devine. Or
Jennifer Morgan-Dalby. Or maybe she is a terrorist like Elkie Elkerson. Or
maybe she’s planning to frame me for tax evasion like mother. I shall keep
a careful eye on Felicity Bobbins. Like all women (except Barbara) she is
not to be trusted.
26th May
Wicks was curious about Felicity Bobbins but he isn’t talking to me so he
sent Grantham to inquire. But Grantham isn’t talking to me either so he
sent Ian Devine to ask me. Ian Devine isn’t talking to me so he asked my
brother Donald. My brother Donald was at a Star Trek convention and
refused to leave as Mr Sulu was about to tell an anecdote in a monotone.
So Ian Devine had to come and ask me himself. He shuffled in a blubbery
manner as he tried to appear casual and not in the least bit interested.
“Wicks says you had a woman here last night” he began, trying to beam at
me in a friendly manner.
“That is half true, Ian Devine” I replied.
“Half true, Dennis Brent?”
“Half true, Ian Devine. She was indeed here last night and she is still
here now, Ian Devine.”
“Still here now?” he gasped. At that moment, Felicity Bobbins wandered
into the room.
“Wooooooooo” she sang. Her eyes were pointing in different directions.
“Aren’t shoes fantastic ?”
“Sorry?” said Ian Devine.
“Shoes – what a masterpiece of design. If you lose one – and who doesn’t
lose a lot of shoes? – you’ve still got one left. A built in safety
margin. Fantastic. You don’t get that with trousers. Oh no – two legs but
joined together. So in losing the left leg, you automatically lose the
right one too. Actually, that’s really rubbish. That’s like the opposite
of shoe genius. Trouser stupidity. That’s what I call it. Trouser
stupidity. I should write a thesis on it. “The Ignorance of Trousers by Dr
Felicity Bob…”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
“Is that Dennis? Who?”
“I am Dennis Brent – you spent the night in my bed.”
“Did we sex? I get a warm glow from the sex and I’m all shivery and my
aura is cold. I hope we didn’t make sex because my aura is shivering and
that could only mean you were dead.”
Ian Devine looked at me.
Then Ian Devine beamed at me.
Then Ian Devine laughed at me.
She had been so normal last night – we had discussed fascinating technical
matters, she had drunk only sensible drinks like half pints of real ale
and she’d told me how wonderful my books were. Now she was behaving like a
mad woman.
“She seems rather peculiar, Dennis Brent. Suddenly your relationship makes
perfect sense” and he giggled as only a grossly fat man can giggle. The
room began to shake, things started falling off the mantelpiece.
“Ohhh” she wailed. “It’s the end of the world. Again. I haven’t seen an
end of the world that was so end of the worldy since the world ended last
July. Would anyone mind if I started singing ?”
“Yes” said Ian Devine and I in unison.
“The world is just… a great big tangerine” she screeched, “It’s got a peel
and appeal and it makes me feel like a teeeeeeeeen”
Ian Devine and I covered our ears against the noise.
“She knows the names of every camera technician to ever work at Lime Grove
Studios” I assured Ian Devine. He just looked at me with disbelief. How
had my perfect woman turned into a raving lunatic? It’s things like this
that would make a man of less sensible character doubt himself.
28th May
Felicity Bobbins and I had a fascinating technical discussion about the
difference between one inch video tape and two inch tape. She made several
excellent points about one inch tape being easier to edit but couldn’t
counter my stance that two inch results in longer lasting picture quality.
29th May
Felicity Bobbins is sat on the roof and says she is making love to the
stars.
30th May
Felicity Bobbins and I had a wonderful evening naming the ancestors of
every “Doctor Who” companion – both fictional and factual. She impressed
me by tracing Nicola Bryant’s family back to the Norman Conquest.
31st May
Felicity Bobbins has spent all day talking to trees and trying to “feng
shui” my camera script archive. She confuses me greatly. In other news,
Wicks has finally agreed that we should mutually apologise to each other
and go back to being friends. I agreed (mutually) and the old “gang” is
back together. Wicks, Grantham, Ian Devine and I spent the evening
watching Grantham’s new DVD of Marco Polo (in colour) while Felicity dug a
hole in the garden and tried to commune telepathically with earthworms.
She really does confuse me. Perhaps we need to have a little chat…
The Story Continues in the first Brent's Seven
serial
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