"Doctor, this is ridiculous! We're just running around in circles!"

"I rather fear so. However, running is infinitely more preferable to rejoining that dance troupe again."

Emma shuddered. "You can say that again!" Running footsteps behind them. She looked up. "Just who are those people really?" The Doctor considered for a moment, then grabbed her arm.

"I'll explain later. Come on - run!"

"Not again ....!" They dashed down the corridor again. Emma cast her mind back to how it started ...

***

The Doctor had received a mysterious summons. Most of the summonings he got were mysterious, Emma had discovered, but the Doctor seemed to take it all in his stride.

"It'll probably be another trap," she warned him over breakfast.

"Very probably. But if my enemies are so desperate for me to turn up and defeat them, I can hardly disappoint them. Wouldn't be polite, after all. Another slice of toast?"

***

"A TV studio?" Emma looked around her at the set. A row of seats filled with people was on one side facing a raised dais with four armchairs. Technicians busied themselves around their TV equipment.

"Indeed. Ah, that might explain it ..."

A familiar grey-haired man emerged from a dressing room with a distinctive red book under his arm.

Emma gasped. "Corr ...it's 'This Is Your Life' ! Hey, you don't think they're after you do you?"

He shook his head. "It's been tried, but the powers that be put a stop to it."

"Who, the High Council of the Time Lords?"

"No, they couldn't get clearance for some of the video clips." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Something isn't right ..."

"It usually isn't."

The theme music suddenly blared and the grey-haired man was joined on stage by a tall, distinguished-looking military man with a neatly clipped black moustache. The crowd applauded and cheered wildly. The interviewer waited patiently for the applause to die down then announced:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are honoured to have with us here in the studio one of Great Britain's - and indeed the world's - greatest unsung military heroes. Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, This Is Your Life!"

The crowd went wild again. "Doctor, where are you going?!"

The Doctor strode onto the stage and pulled the red book from the man's hand. He tossed it away and stood with his hands grasping his lapels. The crowd started murmuring uneasily. The Brigadier stood up, smiling uneasily.

"Doctor! How nice to see you again! Glad you could make it!"

The Doctor shook his head. "I fear I must draw wide the curtains on this little charade and expose the evil which doubtless lurks within." He noticed a camera on him and brushed his dark fringe from his eyes and smiled professionally.

The Interviewer was annoyed. "What do you mean? How dare you ..."

The Doctor started ticking things off on his fingers. "Firstly, the Brigadier and I haven't actually met yet, so he couldn't possibly know me. Secondly, his moustache is the wrong way up." The man groped for his top lip, embarrassed. "Thirdly, the idea of a secret organisation like UNIT sanctioning an interview like this is remote in the extreme. For heavens sake, you have representatives from five different alien species in the audience! This is supposed to be 1978. 'This Is Your Life' is hardly a suitable vehicle upon which to spring the existence of extraterrestrial life upon the public."

"It's for a corporate video," blustered 'the Brigadier', trying to get his moustache to stick again. The Doctor carried on regardless, pointing out mistakes in the crowd and ticking them off on his fingers.

"Harry Sullivan's hair is brown, not blonde. Liz Shaw never ever wore a dress that covered her knees. K-9 is a robot dog, not a robot cat. The clue is in the name, I think you'll find. And you ..." pointing an accusing finger at the interviewer, "should be Eamonn Andrews, not Michael Aspel."

The interviewer snarled and whipped a slender rod from his jacket. "Very clever, Doctor ... but I think you'll find I'll have the last laugh!"

He whirled the rod above his head and everything shimmered and changed ... the interviewer turned from a tall grey-haired man into a small, cheeky-faced man wearing brightly-coloured Chinese mandarins' robes.

"And that's magic!" he exclaimed.

The Doctor covered his eyes and exclaimed wearily: "Oh, good grief ... the Celestial Toymaker!"

"So, Doctor, what do you think of my new appearance? You're not the only one who can change!"

The Doctor and Emma stood in the Toymakers' control room, decked out to look like a TV studio control centre with lots of monitors and viewing controls.

"Hmmm, the last one was more distinguished, in an old B-movie horror star kind of way. You're more like his twisted hunchbacked assistant. I say, is that a wig?"

The Toymaker bridled at the remarks and self-consciously touched the brown mop poking out from beneath his hat. "That is not important!" he snapped.

The Doctor smiled. "I think it is." He turned to Emma. "My dear, have you ever seen one as silly as that? It looks like a dead gerbil."

The Toymaker waved his fist at the Doctor. "If you think you can goad me into losing my temper over my ... hair ... you're sadly mistaken!" He snapped his fingers at his assistants. "Take the girl to ..." He peered at the monitor screens and pointed at one. "There! Yes, that will do splendidly!"

The Doctor and Emma looked too ... and gasped. A collection of strangely familiar women were performing a rather clumsy dance routine.

"No!" gasped Emma, horrified. "Not ... the Nine O'Clock News ladies dancing troupe!"

"You fiend!" cried the Doctor.

The Toymaker rubbed his hands with glee. "Yes! That's right ... I have dolls of all my favourite TV personalities performing for my pleasure." His finger darted from screen to screen. "Here is the cast of 'Z Cars' being led by Roy Castle in a tap dance routine - isn't Brian Blessed a lovely little mover! Here are the Blue Peter presenters performing a song and dance extravaganza with Leo Sayer on ice! Here is Ronnie Corbett performing one of his many humorous monologues..."

That was the last straw. "You monster!" spat the Doctor. "Why are you doing all this?"

He puffed himself up to his full height and looked the Doctor square on the chin. "I intend to broadcast the Earth's most spectacular Christmas extravaganza ... and while people are watching, I shall beam a signal that shall totally subvert their will to mine! The Earth shall become my plaything ... and when I have your TARDIS, Doctor, the Universe shall follow suit!" He threw back his head and laughed maniacally, stopping only when his hat fell off, taking his wig with it. Furiously he scooped it up and plopped it back on his head, unaware it was the wrong way round. He waved at the technicians.

"Put the girl in with the dancers! And bring the Doctor ... to my Bunko Booth!"

Angela Rippon may have had the best legs on TV but she was no dancer. For the third time she bounced off Emma's instep. Emma yelled and shoved her away. She collided with Jan Leeming, who was no Ginger Rogers either.

"Watch it dearie!" snapped Jan.

"Shove orf!" shouted Angela. The pair began tussling. Lionel the choreographer rushed up to separate them.

"Girls! Girls! Decorum!" Anna Ford, Moira Stewart and the others joined in the squabbling as well, and Emma tried to sidle away, but Lionel grabbed her.

"Let me go! I'm not a news-reader!"

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Yeah, and they're not dancers! Will he listen though? Now, behave, or I'll throw you in with Pan's People. They're doing "I Lost My Heart to A Starship Trooper" in the next studio. Eugh ..." The man shuddered. He clapped his hands. "Okay girls, from the top again ... come on, Emma love, show a teensy-weensy bit of enthusiasm ... or else!"

***

The Toymaker pulled a flower from the Doctor's jacket pocket and stood back to accept the applause. The Doctor clapped along, ironically.

"Oh how jolly clever. Well done. How do you do it?" he said, bored.

The Toymaker beamed. Sarcasm always was lost on him. "How do you like my act?"

"Oh, were you acting? Can't say I noticed," he yawned.

Angrily the Toymaker pulled a dome-covered silver serving dish from beneath his magic table and pulled the dome clear with a flash and a puff of smoke. A dopey looking white rabbit wriggled its nose at him. The Toymaker looked disappointed. "Oh dear ... that should have been a Veclorian Stinging Beetle. Haven't quite got the hang of this."

The Doctor looked at his watch. "Can we get on with this? I'm due for lunch with Alexander the Great at 2."

"Bah!" The Toymaker shooed the bunny away and pulled out three large seed pods. "Aha!" he exclaimed, and snapped his fingers. The TARDIS key appeared in his hand. The Doctor scowled. The Toymaker put the key on the table and covered it with one of the pods, scooting them around on the table. The Doctor sighed. He hated this game. He studied the pods closely.

"That one ... hmmm, that one ... that one again ... not doing very well are you? That one ... oh look, it's under that one again ... quel surprise ... oooh, this one's a toughy - that one?"

"Bah!" The Toymaker flung the pods to the floor. He flexed his shoulders menacingly. "All right, so-called Doctor ... how about a game of ... Buckaroo!"

The Toymaker whipped a silly-looking plastic horse from beneath the booth with a triumphant grin. The Doctor raised his eyes wearily to the heavens.

***

"Come on girls, lift those legs up! Emma love ... you're a teensy-weensy bit out of time."

"Sorry ... I'm a teensy-weensy bit out of shape."

"We noticed, dearie," sneered Angela. Emma ignored her.

"How high do you want me to kick?" Lionel indicated by raising his leg. "Gotcha ... like this?" She swung her leg up and kicked him square in the groin. He collapsed with an anguished grunt. "Never fails," she gasped, and ran for the exit as the News ladies crowded round the prone figure ...

She followed the sound of applause and ran into the studio with the Doctor and the Toymaker. The Doctor was sitting back with a big grin on his face, while the Toymaker had his head on the table sobbing over a huge pile of plastic board games. She rushed over.

"Doctor! You won!"

The Toymaker lifted his head. He was sobbing with laughter, not sadness, and the Doctor's rictus grin was a grimace! "No - I won!" He leapt up, brandishing the TARDIS key high, and vanished in a puff of smoke. The Doctor spoke one word.

"Bugger."

They hurtled through the corridors, pursued by the cast of 'Z Cars', Roy Castle, the News ladies and a whole horde of screaming seventies stars.

"Magnetic balls!"

"What?"

"In that last game of Hungry Hungry Hippos ... I should have realised he was cheating. We must get to the TARDIS before he can take off ... hold on!"

The Doctor pulled Emma into the Ice Rink set and pushed her beside the door. Their chasers ran past them onto the ice ... and went skidding all over the place, skittling the hapless Leo Sayer and 'Blue Peter' team. The Doctor cupped his hands to his mouth and called quietly: "Look out for that high-tension cable ..." There was a sizzling sound, everyone screamed at once ... then there was silence. "Whoops. Well, that puts his little Christmas extravaganza on ice, don't you think?" The Doctor beamed smugly at his little joke, and exasperatedly Emma pulled him away back to the TARDIS.

***

The Toymaker stood gloating in the console room. Finally, he had won - beaten that infernal Doctor once and for all! The whole of time and space was his for the taking. He bent towards the controls when there was a knock at the door. A polite voice called:

"Excuse me, Toymaker, but how about one last little game before you disappear for good?" The Toymaker looked at the scanner. The Doctor and his friend stood outside. He held a large plastic hoop in his hands. He held it up and waved it.

"If I can throw this hoop around the TARDIS, my friend and I get to leave. If I fail, you get the TARDIS, my lovely assistant here and ..." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim silver case. He opened it to reveal a tiny rod. It glittered and shone with immense power. "The Toothpick of Rassilon!"

The TARDIS door creaked open and the Toymaker emerged. "Very well, Doctor ... I accept your little wager. But no tricks!"

The Doctor looked innocent. "Would I?"

They stood to the side. The Doctor raised the hoop, judging the range and angle. Emma bit her lip. The Toymaker trembled with excitement - the Toothpick of Rassilon! Wow!

The Doctor flung the hoop up ... they gaped as it hung in the air, drifting towards the top of the TARDIS ...

"Run!" The Doctor shoved the Toymaker aside and pushed Emma into the TARDIS, slamming and locking the door. The hoop clattered against the side of the TARDIS as the Toymaker leapt to his feet and pummelled the side of the ship with his fists.

"Cheat! Cheat!"

The TARDIS began to dematerialise. The Doctor's mocking voice drifted from its external loudspeaker.

"That's magic!"