Daria Who in "Twice Upon An Anticlimax"

(The control room of the TARDIS. The Twelfth Daria, DeMartino, lies on the floor by the console, apparently dead. Then his flesh starts to glow orange and a you-tube clip show of deadth-bed flashbacks begins...)

MARINA/LINK/LINDY/JENNIFER/BROOKE/MARCO/SCARLETT/LISA/SUMMER/SANDI: Daria? Daria!

(DeMartino sits up with a gasp, the glow fading.)

DeMARTINO: Gah! So it has come to this! I can't even seek the BRIEFEST SOLITUDE OF DEATH without those whining, illiterate BARELY-TOILET-TRAINED juvenile PINHEADS pestering me from beyond the grave! IS THERE NO END TO THIS TORMENT!

(The glow returns.)

DeMARTINO: And on top of everything else, not only am I denied THE BLISSFUL PEACE OF OBLIVION, I'm going to turn into a completely different variation ON A RIDICULOUS OVER-EXPLORED THEME! I'll turn back into a MOUTH-BREATHING, INSECURE, BOX-TICKING LOSER of INDETERMINATE ACCENT! Well, no more. I refuse to be contractually renewed to appeal ONCE MORE to the VACUOUS VAGARIES of TEEN DEMOGRAPHICS!

(The glow fades again.)

DeMARTINO: In fact, I think I'll land this CONVENIENTLY-UNPREDICTABLE time machine in the most hostile environment I can find! I know, ANTARCTICA IN THE MIDDLE OF A BLIZZARD! I'll go out for a walk and I may be some time IF NOT THE REST OF ETERNITY!

(DeMartino lands the TARDIS and runs out into the freezing snow, laughing like a lunatic.)

Caption: PREVIOUSLY ON DARIA WHO? ACTUALLY, QUITE A LOT PREVIOUSLY. AROUND SEVEN HUNDRED AND NINE EPISODES AGO, ACTUALLY. IN OLD MONEY, WE'RE TALKING BACK TO 1966. YEAH, THAT'S A LONG TIME, BUT IT IS PREVIOUSLY, ADMIT IT. NORMALLY WE'RE NOT THIS SPECIFIC, WE'VE GOT TO THINK OF THE REPEATS, BUT ONCE YOU'VE PAST THE FIFTY-YEAR MARK I SUPPOSE IT'S KIND OF OBVIOUS WE'VE GOT A BIT OF BACKSTORY TO REPLAY.

I ONCE SAW A "PREVIOUSLY ON LOST" BIT THAT ACTUALLY WENT FOR TWO HOURS BEFORE IT EVEN GOT TO THE DEAD MEXICAN ON THE COUCH. AND IT TURNED THEY WERE ALL DEAD? NO SHIT, SHERLOCK! I TWIGGED THAT BACK WITH THE FIRST EPISODE IT WAS SO OBVIOUS. AS IF A PLANE COULD CRASH LIKE THAT AND NO ONE WOULD FIND IT! WELL, IF THAT PLANE DIDN'T BELONG TO A MALAYSIAN AIRLINE, ANYWAY.

AH, I APPEAR TO HAVE WANDERED OFF THE TOPIC AT HAND SLIGHTLY.

ANYWAY. RATHER THAN TRY TO SUMMARIZE FIFTY-ONE YEARS OF THIS FRANCHISE, WE'LL THINK OUTSIDE THE BIGGER-ON-THE-INSIDE BOX AND INSTEAD SHOW YOU THE "PREVIOUSLY ON DARIO WHO" YOU WOULD HAVE SEEN BACK IN 1966 WHICH WOULD HAVE BEEN MUCH EASIER TO SWALLOW.

ADMITTEDLY IT WOULD BE BLACK-AND-WHITE, SLOWER-PACED, LACK ANY OF THOSE APOCALYPTIC HORN NOISES YOU GET FROM "INCEPTION" OR "WORLD WAR Z" AND NOT BE AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOADING ONTO YOUR iPADS BUT BASICALLY UNDERSTANDABLE.

(The original TARDIS, cheap, cheerful and unpretentious with the original Daria, Trent Lane, distracted as two groupies burst in through the neo-futuristic airlock.)

ANGIE: Eep!

WIND: Oh no! I knew I shouldn't have licked the inside of that plastic bag that old hippy on the bench offered me! Angie, I'm freaking out!

TRENT: Whoa. Uh, I don't remember letting you two in.

ANGIE: You dropped your key when we were trying to stop the Spam Machines from creating that evil network of computers across the world that would ruin mankind forever, remember?

TRENT: Oh yeah. "Stopped" them. Guess I did say that? You didn't see me get that back-hander off that Steve Jobs guy, did you? Cause that was totally unconnected.

WIND: We decided to return your key, but then we saw you were hiding inside a police box and this key just happened to unlock the door and now there are circles! NOTHING BUT CIRCLES! Angie, hold me, I tremble!

TRENT: Uh, you should really calm down.

WIND: SO MANY CIRCLES! IT'S LIKE SWISS CHEESE FOREVER!

ANGIE: It's just wallpaper, Wind. It must be why it seems so bigger on the inside. Smart use of decor, right, Daria?

TRENT: ...yeah, let's go with that. Uh, you guys really shouldn't have come inside. I kind of started the engines.

WIND: A police box has engines?

TRENT: This one does. It's actually a time machine disguised as a police box, that can go anywhere and anywhen. (beat) Hmm. Seems a bit contrived now I come to explain it to someone else.

ANGIE: But where are we going?

TRENT: How should I know?

ANGIE: But can't you control where this thing goes?

TRENT: Hmm. I guess that would explain what the rest of these buttons and switches might do. I always thought they were just in charge of the thermostat and disco lights.

WIND: You're saying we're flying off into time and space with absolutely no one at the wheel?

TRENT: I get the feeling you're not going to be cool if I tell you the answer is "pretty much", is it?

(Wind screams and pulls at his hair.)

ANGIE: Can't you just put us in reverse or something?

TRENT: Hmmm. I guess it could work. OK, uh... "London, 1966."

(The TARDIS lands beside a cliff next to the sea. Caption: "CORNWALL, 1671." The trio emerge.)

TRENT: Hmm. Only a few hundred miles out.

ANGIE: And three hundred years.

TRENT: I know. I hardly ever get this close.

WIND: Oh what are we going to do, Angie? Think of all the responsibilities we have in the future! I have that epic poem to complete! You have that photoshoot with Austin Powers and act as a body-double for Britt Ekkland! WHAT THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO DO, ANGIE? WHAT IN THE NAME OF JIGSAW-ASSEMBLING CHRIST DO WE DO?

(Angie points to a dodgy bunch of pirates carrying barrels and chests ashore and into a cave. Caption: "SOME CORNISH SMUGGLERS. OBVIOUSLY.")

ANGIE: Let's ask them for help.

(Angie and Wind rush off to the smugglers who immediately draw their swords and pistols. Wind starts screaming hysterically. Trent sighs and follows.)

TRENT: I'm really getting sick of these groupies.

(Fade to black.)

(Caption: "FOUR RATHER ENJOYABLE BUT ULTIMATELY FORGETTABLE EPISODES LATER...")

(The TARDIS. Trent, Angie and Wind look bruised, beaten up and wear ragged 17th Century clothes.)

WIND: (clearly hysterical) I can't believe we survived that pitched battle between the revenue men and army of insane raping and pillaging pirates! MY CREDIBILITY IS AT STRETCHING POINT, ANGIE!

TRENT: You really need to chill out, Wind. Right, let's try again. "London, 1966."

(He operates the controls.)

(The TARDIS materializes in a blizzard. Caption: "ANTARCTICA, 1986. QUELLE SUPRISE.")

ANGIE: Hey, Daria, isn't it weird that everyone who wanted that treasure all died? It's like the curse on the treasure was real!

TRENT: Mmm. Pretty deep, Angie. You might be onto something.

WIND: Uh, Daria, didn't you also end up trying to find that treasure as well? You know, to stop the pirates killing us?

TRENT: Sounds like something I'd do.

WIND: Well, doesn't that mean the curse will affect you, too?

TRENT: Wind?

WIND: Yes, Daria?

TRENT: You're a stunted human being. Shut up. As if a curse could effect me? If it was, why hasn't anything happened to me, huh?

(He laughs, then has a violent coughing fit into his fist, which begins to glow brightly.)

WIND: Um... what's that?

TRENT:Oh. You can see that too?

ANGIE: Yes.

TRENT: Oh. That's not a good sign. On a scale of one to ten, I think I'm going to burn out before I fade away.

(His hand stops glowing.)

TRENT: Anyway, come on, let's go for a stroll at the North Pole and see what mischief we can get up to before frostbite kills us all! What do you say?

(Angie looks thoughtful. Wind starts crying.)

(The trio stumble out into the blizzard.)

ANGIE: Shit! I'm freezing! This was a bad idea!

WIND: Can't we go back inside?

TRENT: Well, if we don't get arrested as spies in the next minute, I have to admit I'm fresh out of ideas?

WIND: Spies? Who'd arrest us as spies in the middle of the South Pole?

(A trapdoor beside them open and a bunch of armed security guards grab them and drag them down into an underground military bunker.)

WIND: Oh, come on, how unlikely is this?!

TRENT: Voice of experience, dude.

ANGIE: Wow, we're twenty years in the future! I bet the feminists have won huge victories and women have real positions of power here!

TRENT: ...Yeah. You bet. But if anyone tells you to make the coffee, just roll your eyes and go with it.

WIND: Daria, if they think we're spies, won't we be locked up forever or just shot without trial?

TRENT: Meh, I'm sure the guy in charge is very reasonable.

(An insane cigar-chomping general enters.)

GENERAL RIPPER: My name's General Jack D. Ripper, I'm here to unleash hell upon the enemies of the USA and chew bubblegum and I just ran out of bubblegum! You must be Ruskie spies!

TRENT: Hmm. Do Ruskie spies normally appear out of nowhere in a blue box?

GENERAL RIPPER: They may do! When it comes to stealing our precious bodily fluids, their deviousness knows no bounds! We're still toe-to-toe with the enemies of democracy and... Hang on, is that the time? OK, lunch break.

(The General and the soldiers wander off.)

WIND: I'm finding this very hard to believe.

TRENT: That attitude is really not endearing you to me, dude. Just accept that people stationed out at the South Pole tend to go a bit weird. Just ask Kurt Russell.

ANGIE: Daria's right, I'm sure that everything else that happens today will be completely plausible.

(Tracking room. Everyone points at meaningless chart screens in amazement which show blinking lights.)

BARCLAY: My god! The Zeus 4 space rocket has gone out of control! It's being pulled off course by a completely brand new planet that has appeared between Mars and Venus with absolutely no warning whatsoever!

TRENT: OK. That does seem rather unlikely but...

BARCLAY: And look! It's exactly the same size and shape as Earth, complete with the exact same continents, except it's upside down!

TRENT: Whoa. That is definitely not something you see every day...

BARCLAY: And now all the fuel cells on Zeus 4 are flat-lining! All the energy is being sucked out into this new planet, and it's effecting everything on Earth even though no one is feeling remotely tired and all power is unaffected!

TRENT: Well, clearly...

BARCLAY: It's obviously some kind of natural process that occurs because these planets are twins and are being drawn together across space!

TRENT: OK. You, you shut the goddamned hell up right now. This is supposed to be an educational science fiction adventure, but you people are so clueless I'm amazed you even bother to wear space suits!

WIND: (sotto) Pot kettle black...

TRENT: Hey, shut up, Jake!

WIND: Jake?

TRENT: Oh yeah. Sorry, all you groupies are starting to blur together lately. Man, I am getting too old for this crap.

BARCLAY: Look, a fleet of two hundred and fifty flying saucers are coming from the new planet straight towards us!

ANGIE: Eep! It's an alien invasion.

TRENT: (sighs with relief) Something sensible at last!

(The General finishes his cheese burger and checks his watch.)

GENERAL RIPPER: Okay. Lunch is over. Time to fight the evil forces of international communism! Send a team up to investigate this mysterious blue box that's redder than Lenin's baboon-like ass! At the double!

BARCLAY: Um, shouldn't we be worried about the alien invasion?

GENERAL RIPPER: Pah! A clear diversion to make us overlook the REAL enemies! God bless President Ronald Reagan!

ANGIE: Huh? He's an actor? America made him President?

TRENT: And that was one of the sensible choices.

(The soldiers run up out of the trap door where they are immediately bushwacked by weird silver robot people who, despite each having in-built laser guns, prefer funky Kung-Fu attacks.)

CYBERMAN 1: Uh, why didn't we just shoot them?

CYBERLEADER: This way their clothes are undamaged. Now! Take off their clothes!

CYBERMAN 1: ...why?

CYBERLEADER: It will be a disguise.

CYBERMAN 1: Why do we superior beings need disguises?

CYBERLEADER: Just because you couldn't carry it off with your hips, there's no need to bitch about to me!

CYBERMAN 1: It's a good thing we have no emotions, CyberLeader, or I would scratch your eyes out, you big poof.

CYBERLEADER: Make me, baldo!

(One Cyberman leaps in front of the others.)

CYBERMAN 2: Guys! Come on, we agreed, no arguments this Christmas!

CYBERLEADER/CYBERMAN 1: HE STARTED IT!

(The Cyberman bangs their metal heads together.)

CYBERMAN 2: Let's agree to differ. We wear the disguises but from now on we shoot anyone who gives us trouble, agreed?

(The others grumble and agree.)

(Tracking room. Trent, Angie and Wind watch as the Cybermen march in wearing the uniforms that don't actually fit over their heads and thus blunder into anything.)

TRENT: Um... am I the only one noticing them? Uh? Hello? Aliens are breaking in here...

GENERAL RIPPER: I don't care about aliens, you stupid goateed bum! COMMUNISTS ARE THE REAL THREAT HERE!

CYBERLEADER: We beg to differ.

(The Cybermen zap several non-speaking extras to death.)

CYBERLEADER: We wish to speak to the leader of you humans.

GENERAL RIPPER: That is I! So. The Ruskies have become bondage fetishist cyborg singers, have they? Well you won't defeat the United States Of A Miracle! We will fight to the death to preserve our precious bodily fluids and fry anyone who tries!

CYBERLEADER: ...okay, is there anyone ELSE here we can talk to?

ANGIE: Hey, isn't there a spaceship in trouble out there?

CYBERLEADER: Ignore it. It will explode for some reason.

TRENT: "For some reason"? Are you even TRYING to make sense any more?

BARCLAY: Oh no, Zeus 4 has exploded! Quick, send up Zeus 5 and see if the same thing happens again! As a scientist, I endorse this scientific method of discovery!

GENERAL BARCLAY: Well done, Mr. Barclay. Make sure my son is aboard. I caught him playing with some bongos once and suspect he might have socialist leanings.

BARCLAY: Don't worry, sir, he's already volunteered!

GENERAL RIPPER: Wow, how incredibly realistic!

CYBERLEADER: (sighs) Extinction is too good for you. We were going to invade and convert humanity to become just like us, but frankly you'd just lower the tone of the entire Cyberiad Empire!

GENERAL RIPPER: Convert us? THAT'S COMMIE TALK MISTER!

(General Ripper aims his gun at the CyberLeader.)

CYBERLEADER: We're bullet proof. Did we not mention that? I thought we mentioned it.

(General Ripper fires anyway. Bullets bounce off the Cybermen and kill some more non-speaking extras.)

CYBERLEADER: Your primitive weapons have no effect on us. You would need one of our own easily-detachable ray guns to stop us!

GENERAL RIPPER: What? Like that one?

CYBERLEADER: Yes.

GENERAL RIPPER: Can I have a look?

CYBERLEADER: Yeah, why not? It's Christmas.

(The CyberLeader unclips its weapon and gives it to General Ripper, who then shoots all three Cybermen dead.)

CYBERLEADER: If I still had emotions, I'd be pretty damn pissed off right about now!

(The Cybermen dies.)

GENERAL RIPPER: And so, the USA wins again!

ANGIE: But those were just three Cybermen and there's a whole army of them out there.

GENERAL RIPPER: Good point.

(General Ripper runs up out of the trapdoor and fires the Cyber-gun at the other Cybermen gathered, killing them all.)

GENERAL RIPPER: YIPPI-KAI-YAY-YOU-CYBER-SHITS! MWAHAHAHA!

(Tracking Gallery.)

TRENT: (depressed) You know, guys, I'm not sure these Cybermen are going to catch on...

GENERAL RIPPER: Right! Now we have defeated the Cyberman invasion, we shall now defeat their entire commie way of life!

ANGIE: How are we supposed to do that!

GENERAL RIPPER: Easy! They want to invade the Earth and drain it of its precious bodily fluids! Therefore, we shall destroy the Earth before they can even try and thus thwart them at the very start!

(Everyone cheers and starts singing The Star-Spangled Banner.)

TRENT: You know, that could be considered a kind of overreaction, man. And how are you going to destroy the Earth?

GENERAL RIPPER: Fortunately the US Army equip all their generals with a planet-destroying Z-Bomb for just an occasion such as this! Prepare to detonate it at once?

TRENT: Oh I give up. That time with the crazy living toys and puppets was more in touch with reality. I think I'm going to sleep this one up.

WIND: Uh, Daria? You're glowing orange again?

TRENT: Huh.

ANGIE: Is it the Cybermen sucking the energy out of you?

WIND: Or the evil curse around the stolen pirate treasure?

ANGIE: Or having been turned invisible by that crazy Mandarin guy?

WIND: Or went those space vampires stole your chi with a second-hand gas stove?

TRENT: Hmmm. Let a guy have some secrets, dude.

GENERAL RIPPER: Right! Prepare to detonate the Z-Bomb!

(The General opens a box and takes out a giant inflatable bomb with "Z" on it.)

TRENT: Is he actually a general? I mean, does he even work here or did he just used to be a postal worker and you're all humoring him!

GENERAL RIPPER: GOD! BLESS! AMERICA!

(He pulls out the pin. The Z bomb deflates with a farting noise. A long embarrassing silence.)

GENERAL RIPPER: Sabotage! Damn those subversive red bastards!

(A fresh squad of Cybermen burst in.)

CYBERLEADER 2: Resistance is futile! We've learned not to give you our own guns! See how we have adapted and improved ourselves since the last battle! Upgrades are in progress! We will be the main villains now they can't afford Daleks!

GENERAL RIPPER: Oh no you won't! I'm getting a Purple Heart or dying in the attempt!

CYBERLEADER 2: Whatever, weirdo.

(The Cybermen zap Ripper and he drops dead.)

CYBERLEADER 2: Right, now what's this about a Z-bomb? We need to destroy the Earth before our planet Mondas absorbs too much energy and explodes.

BARCLAY: Wow, that makes sense on so many levels.

TRENT: Hang on, you tried to invade a planet by draining its energy even though it would blow up your own planet? Why?

CYBERLEADER 2: We needed the power of Earth.

TRENT: Why not the sun? There's such a thing as solar power!

CYBERLEADER 2: The focus groups of the Cyberiad will not be questioned! Now, we're going to find the real Z-Bomb and this time we will be obeyed! You can't just shoot us all with our own weapons this time! We're not letting you have any!

(Wind picks up the Cyber-gun Ripper used.)

CYBERLEADER 2: (disappointed) Damn it, CyberLieutenant, you had ONE job!

CYBERLIEUTENANT: (shrugs) Sorr-ree.

(Wind blasts them all.)

WIND: Hey! I did something useful! Oh if only my analyst was here to see this!

TRENT: (groans) OK, this is just getting too stupid for me. I think I need a breathe of fresh air.

ANGIE: In an Antarctic blizzard in the middle of an alien menace?

TRENT: Yeah, maybe I should anyway. You two can stay here.

ANGIE: But we're twenty years out of time!

TRENT: Just call yourself hipsters, you'll do well.

(ANOTHER group of Cybermen burst in.)

CYBERLEADER 3: Not so fast! We've re-engineered ourselves and made sure we're not affected by our own weapons any more, so there's no chance any of you meatbag flesh-losers can stop us now! We're indestructible! Immortal! Something else that begins with "I"! As long as Mondas rules the heavens, the Cyberiad will last forever!

ANGIE: Oh look, Mondas appears to have exploded for some reason.

WIND: That sort of thing does keep happening today.

BARCLAY: Oh good. That means we don't have to change all the school books to add a planet to the Solar System. There will only ever be nine planets! END OF STORY!

CYBERLEADER 3: Hang on. If Mondas has blown up, then surely we Cybermen should cease to exist?

TRENT: Huh? How in the name of Slitheen buggery does that work?

CYBERLEADER 3: Well, you see...

(Before the CyberLeader can continue, all the Cybermen collapse and deflate to leave empty suits.)

TRENT: OK. Screw this. I'm officially done with this crap. There's only so many unbelievable plot twists a guy can take. I feel like I'm dying from terminal incredulity.

(Trent stumbles out into the snow. His hands start to glow again, brighter and brighter.)

TRENT: Oh yeah. I remember what this is. We did it in self-esteem class, between the armpit hair and the nocturnal emissions. That delicate time in your life when your entire biomass is rewritten completely with lots of CGI fairy dust. You turn into a totally new person. What will the new me be like? What if I'm some lame normal nine-to-five sellout Mr. Normal? Damn, I knew I kept cyanide round for a reason. Well, tough! I refuse to be recast in the great ongoing franchise of life! And nothing will make me change my mind!

(Another TARDIS materializes in front of him and DeMartino stumbles out, glowing brightly.)

DeMARTINO: Gah! The SCROTUM-TIGHTENING CHILL OF THE SOUTH POLE! I will NOT LET THAT DISTRACT ME!

(He shoves his glowing hands into the snow and the glow stops.)

DeMARTINO: I must admit, I'm rather suspicious as how well that worked. But I'm not going to change.

TRENT: Join the club, man. No sell-outs to the man, am I right?

DeMARTINO: Who are you?

TRENT: I'm Daria Morgendorffer.

DeMARTINO: Daria Who?

TRENT: Morgendorffer. But I'm thinking of changing the name.

DeMARTINO: Oh curse my IRONIC YET INEVITABLE BAD LUCK! I managed to arrive at the South Pole about to regenerate at the exact same time YOU WERE DOING PRECISELY THE SAME THING! I bet you've just been fighting those lame ass CLOTH-FACE SING-SONG WISHY-WASHY CYBERMAN, I suppose?

TRENT: ...good guess. Uh, do I know you, dude? And uh, how come you have a time machine that looks like mine.

DeMARTINO: Oh please, DON'T GIVE YOURSELF A HERNIA trying to word out THE COMPLETELY FREAKING OBVIOUS!

TRENT: Whoa, getting some harsh vibes off you.

DeMARTINO: INDEED, my younger enfleshment! You see, Daria, I am actually you from the far, far future! GAWD, COULD I DO ONE CHRISTMAS WITHOUT THIS RIDICULOUS DICKENS STEREOTYPE?!?

TRENT: Oh. You're here to warn me to change my ways.

DeMARTINO: In a way, son, yes. In a way.

TRENT: Otherwise, like, I'll die and not live happily ever after.

DeMARTINO: YES! And yet, absolutely simultaneously, NOT AT ALL! Actually, Younger Daria, I'm here to tell you that you should DEFINITELY refuse to REGENERATE! Better you die now, in the snow, than go THROUGH THE SEVENTEEN DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF IDIOCY AND LIVING HELL that have led to me.

TRENT: Hmm. I did always promise myself if I didn't make it by my 300th birthday, I'd end it all.

DeMARTINO: Given you're 448 years old, JUNIOR, I think we can ASSUME you've left your resolution A LITTLE BIT ON THE LATE SIDE! Now, I was trying to kill myself to prevent me transforming into YET ANOTHER EMPTY-SKULLED TEENAGER, but you dying now would put us both out of our misery.

TRENT: Hmm. Heavy. You mean, there's nothing worth living for after this?

DeMARTINO: Oh, well, there's the CONSTANT CONVEYOR BELT of suffering, hardship and CRUELTY you have to endure for trying to be EVEN SLIGHTLY LESS OF A JERK than everyone else, not to mention not one BUT TWO MASSIVE OFF-SCREEN WARS that make the entirety of Game of Thrones look like A SLIGHT TIFF OUTSIDE A JUNIOR DISCO!

TRENT: Hardcore. But hang on, if you exist and I change history, won't the paradox royally screw with all of the cosmic balance and stuff like that?

DeMARTINO: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW, JUNIOR? You've spent half your life lying in bed, refusing to graduate and STILL STICKING WITH THAT STUPID DARIA NAME! You think you can POSSIBLY tell me ANYTHING about the INFINITE TEMPORAL FLUX that I don't ALREADY KNOW?!?!

(Beat.)

TRENT: Guess not. So, um, can I ask a question?

DeMARTINO: WHAT?!!?

TRENT: How come the snow's stopped falling?

(Indeed, the blizzard is paused all around them.)

DeMARTINO: Ah. It would appear that me messing with my own past has actually upset the cosmic balance and stuff like that, TO USE YOUR EXCEEDINGLY OVER-COMPLICATED TERMINOLOGY!

TRENT: So what do we do now?

DeMARTINO: No idea, Junior. You got a pack of cards?

(A few snow flakes still fall into a bomb crater. Caption: "NO, NOT LONDON 1966. YPRES 1914. THE FIRST WORLD WAR. WHAT? JUST HOW DUMB ARE YOU PEOPLE? GOOGLE IT!" A British soldier and a German soldier are aiming their guns at each other.)

CAPTAIN: I feel like I should say at this moment that I really appreciate the opportunity this global conflict has given us to really draw on our own personal reserves of courage, endurance and the potential for trench warfare.

GERMAN: <I don't speak English, you madman! Why the hell are you still talking?>

CAPTAIN: I've learned the true meaning of teamwork during this conflict, and the metaphor of sending wave after wave of young soldiers into a solid wall of machine gun fire couldn't be more appropriate.

GERMAN: <Why me? I could've just stepped on a landmine. A pile of landmines. Why do I always get the weirdoes?>

CAPTAIN: The moral of this Great War is clearly, "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again!" I know you evil Hun have been doing exactly the same thing for the last few years, and it would be remiss of me not to note my respect.

GERMAN: FÜR DIE LIEBE GOTTES, SCHLIESSEN SIE AUF!

CAPTAIN: Oh, German is such a melodic language. I'm sure you're agreeing with me in your own functional yet passionate words...

GERMAN: <I give up! I can't take it any more!>

CAPTAIN: Uh, Fritzy, I think you're pointing the gun the wrong way...

(The German soldier puts the gun in his mouth and there is a thunderclap and the snow freezes.)

CAPTAIN: Oh, what a beautiful moment. It's enough to drive a man to poetry. What rhymes with "battlefield"?

(The German pulls the trigger, but nothing happens. He takes out the gun, pulling the trigger again and again. He tries to fire at the British Captain, to no avail.)

CAPTAIN: (to the tune of 'I Lost My Poor Meatball') One night in No Man's Land, while out on patrol, I met a nice German whose virtues I extol...

GERMAN: Fick das.

(The German runs away. The Captain doesn't notice.)

CAPTAIN: We talked for ages, about this lovely war
I was self-conscious, but still not a bore...

(The German can be heard screaming in terror.)

CAPTAIN: Oh, I'm sorry. I know so many fine men suffered in the Boer conflict and I'd hate to be insensitive to their suffering through an inadvertent pun! Please, Fritzy, forgive me! (beat) Fritzy?

(He climbs out of the crater and sees a transparent glass-like being of a woman standing over the kneeling German, his face in her hands like being given a Mafiosi-style kiss of death. The glass woman glares at the Captain.)

GLASS WOMAN: Excuse me? Bit of privacy here?

(The Captain whimpers pathetically, turns and runs. He trips over his own feet... and lands in the snow in front of Trent and DeMartino.)

CAPTAIN: Oh, I do beg your pardon... um, where am I?

DeMARTINO: Antarctica.

CAPTAIN: That's strange.

TRENT: Yeah. Uh, why are you dressed as Hitler?

CAPTAIN: Hitler?

DeMARTINO: What my SHAMEFUL EXCUSE for a PAST LIFE is trying in his own MENTALLY-DEFICIENT MANNER, is to not your swept back hair, TOOTHBRUSH MUSTACHE and NEAT BROWN UNIFORM! Only the lack of a SWASTIKA, something any half-awake time traveler SHOULD NOTICE, proves you are not Adolf Hitler?

CAPTAIN: What? No, I'm not Adolf Hitler. Though I did meet a sweet art student in Berlin of that name, and he really did think my mustache was wonderful. Wow, Addy Hitler. I haven't thought of him in ages. I hope he's making himself useful.

DeMARTINO: (sighs) I cannot - EVEN IN THE DARKEST OF SARCASM - give a half-decent answer to that question.

CAPTAIN: Um, how did I get to Antarctica?

TRENT: But you're also, like, seventy-two years in the future. That's probably connected. Come on, let's get into my pad and talk this through.

(Trent goes to the TARDIS.)

DeMARTINO: Hey! That is not your "pad"! It's my ship!

TRENT: But I'm you, aren't I? And we both stole this. You really need to get over the property and theft stuff, dude.

DeMARTINO: YOU SANCTIMONIOUS ADOLESCENT!

TRENT: Hey, non-Hitler guy, come on.

(Trent unlocks the TARDIS and they enter. Trent and the Captain are stunned by what they see.)

TRENT: What the hell?!

CAPTAIN: My, my, the decor really does give a feeling of space, doesn't it? I wish I could do the same with my barracks...

TRENT: Dude, what the hell did you do to my pad?

DeMARTINO: Son, I'm TWO MILLENNIA older than you. And that's not including the four point five BILLION YEARS I spent punching a wall made of diamond for reasons that seemed SUSPICIOUSLY COMPELLING at the time. I am allowed to redecorate the only home YOUR wandering lifestyle HAS DEIGNED TO ALLOW ME TO KEEP!

TRENT: Where are my guitars, man?

DeMARTINO: What?

TRENT: No wonder you still haven't made it! Did you sell them all to buy coffee or something?

DeMARTINO: No, the pretentious over-sexualized Renaissance Girl YOU are about to transform into BURNED THEM ALL in a bit of PERFORMANCE ART in tribute TO JIMI HENDRIX!

TRENT: ...no way.

DeMARTINO: Hey, don't blame ME! It was YOU that will DO IT!

TRENT: But... how can I turn into someone who won't continue my dreams of musical stardom?

DeMARTINO: Because YOU VACUOUS SIMPLETON, you turn into someone ABLE TO COMPREHEND the fact there is MORE to life than aspiring to be A SUB-PAR DOORS COVER BAND!

TRENT: Not my fault so many audiences don't appreciate my music. And breathe ammonia. And keep trying to dissect me. So, wait, I become an artist?

DeMARTINO: An artist, then a cheerleader, then a footballer, a fashionista, ANOTHER footballer, a ladies' man, an ACTUAL lady, then a goth and frankly AT THAT POINT I LOST ALL TRACK OF WHICH WAS WHICH AND GIVE UP!

TRENT: I never go back to music?

DeMARTINO: Well, there WAS that UNIQUE occasion where they played Britney Spears and Soft Cell AS THE SUN EXPLODED AND DESTROYED THE EARTH FOREVER... but apart from that? No.

TRENT: Bummer.

DeMARTINO: BUMMER? I can tell you of the river of MEANINGLESS PAIN that empties out into AN OCEAN OF INFINITE NOTHINGNESS AND SUFFERING for the rest of your timeline AND YOU'RE UPSET YOU DON'T SING "ICEBOX WOMAN" AGAIN?!?

TRENT: Yes!

DeMARTINO: WELL YOU'RE ALONE IN THAT THOUGHT! Good god, son, that song has held back whole civilizations! Entire genomes have formed SELF-HELP GROUPS when you performed! THE INTERGALACTIC CONVENTION OF SENTIENT RIGHTS even put you singing "Ow! My Face!" above BEING EXTERMINATED BY A DALEK as THE WORST THING THAT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU!

TRENT: Well, you're two thousand years old. Why couldn't you learn another instrument or something?

DeMARTINO: I, young man, AM NOT HERE to make up for YOUR mistakes!!

TRENT: Then why are you here?

DeMARTINO: ...touche, Daria. Touche.

(The Captain holds up a DVD.)

CAPTAIN: What is this shining objet d'art? And what does "WHAT I DID TO SETH GREEN WITH THE BASEBALL BAT AND NO LUBRICANT AFTER THAT ROBOT CHICKEN SKIT" mean?

DeMARTINO: (snatches video) Gimme that, punk. Just say it was well earned and will always remind him transphobia is neither funny nor clever. UNDERSTOOD?

TRENT: (looks round) No wonder you're depressed. This place looks where large hadron colliders come to die. Would it kill you to put up some posters or maybe throw a rug on the floor? And why's it so freaking dark?

DeMARTINO: It is called ATMOSPHERIC LIGHTING!

TRENT: Yeah. The atmosphere of someone who can't be assed changing light-bulbs. So what do you do in here? Sit around and sulk about how much it sucks to be you.

DeMARTINO: LUCKY GUESS, SON!

TRENT: Huh. No wonder you don't have any groupies...

DeMARTINO: Hey-hey-hey, I HAD GROUPIES! They just all met a variety of HORRIBLE, TWISTED and SOUL-DESTROYING ends! My spin-off team of reformed 1970s villains all ditched me for being TOO MISERABLE and OFF-PUTTING for their WACKY HI-JINKS and I'm barred from THE WHOLE OF VICTORIAN LONDON! Then the only girl to stick by me died. I forget her name. Or HOW she died, come to that. Pretty sure she got hit in the tits by a low-flying crow.

CAPTAIN: Gasp! You can die from that?

DeMARTINO: (shrugs) APPARENTLY so! Oh, and I got married. But, THANKS TO THE OVER-COMPLICATED EFFECT-BEFORE-CAUSE of a time traveller's relationship status, she died BEFORE WE EVER MET trying to rewire a computer in a library! I did meet a like-minded individual, but it was only after he WAS BRUTALLY BEHEADED BY A GIANT BUZZ LIGHTYEAR TOY that he was SUFFICIENTLY OSTRACIZED FROM SOCIETY to be my flatmate! Then, the last girl in my life - a lesbian SO COMFORTABLE with her sexuality THAT EVERYONE was certain she was SECRETLY-STRAIGHT - wanted to do the whole "bum around time and space having a laugh" DELUSION!

TRENT: What happened to her?

DeMARTINO: She got her entire CHEST CAVITY blown out by a random ALIEN BLUE GUY, then psychologically TORTURED FOR A FULL-TEN YEARS, before being FORCIBLY converted into a proto-CYBERMAN suffering FULL-BLOWN SCHIZOID DISSOCIATION and then was caught up IN A FIFTEEN-MEGATON NUCLEAR BLAST.

CAPTAIN: Oh my gosh! Did she die?

DeMARTINO: WHY YES, MR. NOT-HITLER, SHE DID! And I did too.

TRENT: But you're alive?

DeMARTINO: Not for want of trying. This STUPID, overly-CONTRIVED bodily REGENERATION PROCESS was triggered. It's reset myself and I'm holding back THE FINAL AGONIZING BURST OF HORMONES AND RAW LIFE ENERGY that will turn me INTO SOMETHING EVEN MORE PATHETIC THAN I AM NOW!

TRENT: Jeez. You're a total loser, you know that?

DeMARTINO: Oh just do US ALL A FAVOR and die now!

TRENT: But... what about all my groupies? Do I ever get to see them again?

DeMARTINO: Meh. Not really. You want to HEAR their HORRIBLE AND INEVITABLE FATES? Spoiler alert - IT DIDN'T END WELL FOR THEM!

TRENT: It didn't?

DeMARTINO: NOPE! Jake and Helen turned out to be IMMORTAL, thanks to that THREESOME they had WITH THAT SPACE JELLYFISH!

TRENT: That doesn't sound too bad?

DeMARTINO: TOO BAD? They were from the 1960s, you moron. You think PEOPLE LIKE THAT would WANT to LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO WITNESS THE TRUMP ADMINISTRATION?!

TRENT: Oh. Yeah. What about Jennifer?

DeMARTINO: Oh, she had GREAT fun becoming HER OWN ANCESTOR and being treated as A WITCH by those DUMB JOCKS she saved from the Fall of Troy! She lived HAPPILY ever after as ANYONE CAN under THOSE CIRCUMSTANCES!

TRENT: And Steve?

DeMARTINO: (puzzled) He ended up a mad old king locked in a dungeon by his daughters after they rebelled against him. Didn't you meet him just the other day?

TRENT: Oh yeah. Wow. I just thought that was some bad cheese before bedtime. That actually happened?

DeMARTINO: And as for AMELIA, she managed to get shot through the back of her head AFTER she contracted SYPHILIS FROM THE MARQUIS DE SADE but before she and her NEW HUSBAND and FATHER OF HER UNBORN CHILD could blow the whistle on JFK'S ASSASSINATION!

TRENT: Wow. That's bleak.

DeMARTINO: Oh, and all those ones you thought were dead? GUESS WHAT? THEY ARE! EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM! WORM FOOD!

TRENT: I gotta admit, this news is really getting me down.

DeMARTINO: Then you are not QUITE as STUPID as every possible piece of EVIDENCE TESTIFIES! End it now, Junior. Who do you want to be? Cut down in YOUR PRIME with all your future STILL UNKNOWN? Or having discovered HOW TRULY WORTHLESS all your potential REALLY WAS? You wanna to be John Lennon or Paul McCartney, that's the options here?

CAPTAIN: Now, now, gentlemen. Surely we can agree it's healthy to air these feelings, and that the universe would be a sadder place without you in it? Whenever you start to feel bad about yourself, you should look yourself in the eye and remember that you are special, no one else is like you and there is no such thing as the right weight or the right height and there is only what is right for you because YOU are who YOU are.

(Trent and DeMartino turn to face him.)

TRENT/DeMARTINO: SHUT UP!

(Suddenly the TARDIS shakes around them.)

(A giant test-your-skill claw has picked up the TARDIS and scooped it up into a gigantic spaceship resembling two cake-tins crazy-glued together.)

TRENT: Wow, that's never happened before.

DeMARTINO: Oh, you have so much innocence left to lose. I've been scooped up by giant claws THREE times this last week ALONE!

CAPTAIN: So, er, you know what's happening then?

DeMARTINO: I suspect that we MAY have been WHEEL-CLAMPED.

TRENT: Gee. No way, man. I may be on the cusp of losing every last shred of identity I possess, but I'm still a criminale!

(Trent slams down a lever on the console. Nothing happens.)

TRENT: Did... did you child-lock the controls?

DeMARTINO: No. As a matter of fact, I did not.

TRENT: But that means this stupid arcade thing is more powerful than the most bitching time-ship in the universe!

DeMARTINO: Hrm. It seems that, somehow, today can get EVEN WORSE!

(The voice of the Glass Woman is heard.)

GLASS WOMAN: (VO) Daria Morgendorffer, leave your time capsule. The Chamber of Eternal Damnation and Ever-Lasting Torment awaits you. Seriously. Come outside. Don't make me come in there.

CAPTAIN: Gah! That's the spooky glass woman I saw in Ypres!

DeMARTINO: And you didn't think THIS WAS REMOTELY WORTH MENTIONING?

CAPTAIN: Well, you two had such intense personal conflicts to resolve, it would have been selfish to...

TRENT: (loudly) Anyway, moving on. I'll go out there and you stay here and try and get the engines working.

DeMARTINO: Oh, TYPICAL! Leave the BACK-BREAKING LABOR to ME!

TRENT: I'm literally guaranteed to get around to it eventually.

DeMARTINO: Hrm. Good point.

(Trent steps out of the TARDIS into a bland-looking waiting room with a pot-plant and a table with some magazines. The Glass Woman is flipping through a copy of "Waif".)

TRENT: Uh... this is Chamber of Eternal Damnation and Ever-Lasting Torment? It's kind of a misleading name.

GLASS WOMAN: Yes, there was a mess-up with the paperwork. But we're stuck with it now. Anyway, we need you to hand over that World War I Captain and we'll be on our way.

TRENT: Uh, why do you want him?

GLASS WOMAN: Oh, he has to die.

TRENT: He's pretty damn annoying, but I don't feel right letting you kill him for it.

GLASS WOMAN: No, he HAS to die. It's history and stuff. Destiny.

TRENT: Destiny? Good one. (cough) Everyone knows destiny is only for losers who can't suck it up and make their own decisions. And history is only as reliable as the last wikipedia edit. No deal.

GLASS WOMAN: How about we offer you a deal?

TRENT: What? Like... (checks no one is looking) ...airtime?

GLASS WOMAN: No. We offer to return you your long-lost companion?

TRENT: Wha... you mean, my beloved little Theresa?

GLASS WOMAN: Um. No. Er, this is awkward...

(Marina enters.)

MARINA: Uh, hi. Um... hang on, I thought I was meeting Daria?

TRENT: Yeah. That's me. Daria. But I'm thinking of changing the name. Do I know you?

MARINA: No, sorry, the Daria I wanted is a crazy old guy who's eye bulges out of his skull every fourth or fifth word.

(DeMartino steps out of the TARDIS.)

MARINA: Daria!

DeMARTINO: Marina. You are looking SUSPICIOUSLY well considering last time I saw you, you were A CYBERMAN caught in a thermonuclear EXPLOSION! I trust you can explain your survival WITHOUT a lead-lined REFRIGERATOR excuse?

MARINA: Um, well...

(Flashback. A single Cyberman stumbles through a charred post-apocalyptic wasteland to where DeMartino lies, charred and apparently dead.)

CYBER-MARINA: Oh wonderful. The perfect end to a perfect day.

(The Cyberman topples over dead. Marina stands nearby, next to an attractive girl called Heather.)

MARINA: Huh? How am I suddenly alive and back to normal?

HEATHER: It's a stuff us magical space puddle lesbians can do.

MARINA: You kept that quiet!

(Heather kisses her.)

MARINA: So, now we're both liquid beings, I guess I can tell people how wet you make me in polite conversation?

HEATHER: As long as you don't make wet patch jokes, pretty much.

MARINA: Wow, my one true love is back and I'm not dead! Today is going to be awesome!

(They remember DeMartino's corpse lying nearby.)

MARINA: Oh yeah. That is a bit of a downer.

HEATHER: Puts a dampener on things, yeah?

MARINA: Ooh, more water jokes! Still, what should we do with him?

HEATHER: Dunno. Dump him in the TARDIS and assume he'll magically come back to life when no one's looking?

MARINA: That seems a bit far-fetched. Still, I have been transformed into a godlike space lesbian so it'd be remiss of me to be so closed-minded.

(They drag DeMartino's body into the TARDIS.)

MARINA: What now?

HEATHER: Let's head off to San Fransisco and get married!

MARINA: What about him?

HEATHER: Ah, it'll be like Dracula. He'll come back the moment we're gone.

MARINA: OK! Right, now I want to be the groom and I should warn you my mother is likely to make a scene with the ring boy...

(Hand in hand, they skip away, leaving DeMartino on the floor. He starts to glow and holy crap, this is where the story started! Wow! Pulp Fiction or what?!)

(End flashback.)

DeMARTINO: You just DUMPED me, your FRIEND and MENTOR, like day-old trash WITHOUT even LEAVING A FREAKING NOTE! I never realized JUST HOW MUCH OUR FRIENDSHIP MEANT, Marina!

MARINA: Oh come on! You got me shot, abandoned me for a decade, turned me into a Cyberman, let me go crazy, sent me to fight off an entire army of Cybermen and then blew up an atom bomb right behind me!

DeMARTINO: I NEVER SAID I WAS PERFECT!

MARINA: Yeah, well, forgive me for deciding to take some "me" time for once! You know, I'm not sure I want you to give me away at the wedding if you're going to be like this?

(Beat.)

DeMARTINO: ...you want me to give you away at the wedding?

MARINA: Yeah.

DeMARTINO: I... uh. I appear to have something in my eye. The good one.

(He turns away and weeps manfully. Awkward pause.)

TRENT: Wow. How can you actually want this jerk at your wedding?

MARINA: Well, he did introduce me to my wife and he's not actually that bad. Maybe I just have really low standards. Anyway, who the hell are you?

TRENT: Daria.

MARINA: Common name, huh?

TRENT: Yeah. Sure, let's go with that.

MARINA: Unless, you know, you're him from the past in a different body? We covered that business a while ago. He even faked he was regenerating after he double-dared me to shoot him.

TRENT: ...you shot him? I thought you liked him.

MARINA: I did. But he can still be a real jerk sometimes.

GLASS WOMAN: Uh, yeah, lovely as this little get-together is, can we have the twerp from the trenches? Time's a wasting, people!

TRENT: (shakes head) Uh-huh. Mr. Normal Corporate Sell-Out over there might hand him over, but I'm not. What the hell were you even doing in World War I in the first place?

(The Captain pokes his head out of the TARDIS.)

CAPTAIN: World War I? You mean it ISN'T the war to end all wars? Oh dear!

TRENT: (to Captain) Dude? I'm working here. (to Glass Woman) So why were you after him in the first place?

GLASS WOMAN: It's kind of our thing. We visit every single person in history the split second before they die. We harvest their souls and take them to the afterlife. Well, you know, the Cloud, but it's pretty much the afterlife.

DeMARTINO: How INTRIGUING! STRANGE isn't it, that despite my WANDERINGS ACROSS ALL TIME AND SPACE, I never heard of such a thing before?

GLASS WOMAN: Well, you have. (indicates Trent) You've known since you were him. Not our fault you keep forgetting.

TRENT: She's got a point, you know. Tell you what, I've got a cool idea. Why don't WE take him back to the trenches?

GLASS WOMAN: (shrugs) Whatever. I'm bored already.


(DeMartino's TARDIS. DeMartino, Marina, Trent, the Captain and the Glass Woman are present.)

DeMARTINO: All right, next stop Ypres 1916.

TRENT: Wow. So that's what's those other buttons are for. That could have been really useful to know.

DeMARTINO: You'd have found more alien civilizations who appreciated Doors covers for a start.

MARINA: Do you always get on so bad with your past selves?

TRENT: Whoa? You mean this isn't the only time we've met each other like this?

DeMARTINO: It only happens in the DIREST of EMERGENCIES, son, but oddly enough THAT SEEMS TO CLASSIFY as every alternate anniversary or a day that ends with "Y"!

(Flashback to the Tenth Daria, Tom dressed in a pinstripe suit, in his coral-organic TARDIS control room breaking up with his companion Jennifer.)

JENNIFER: You're a good guy. A little spoiled, a hair smug, a trifle egotistical but a smart, funny guy who's basically very caring and sensitive in the not-pukey way. I'm glad we went out. It was a really good experience.

(She turns and leaves the TARDIS.)

TOM: ...why do they always tell me that? That exact same speech? Is there a mailing list? Sheesh!

(He pulls the lever to take off and there is an explosion, knocking Tom to the floor. He gets back up.)

TOM: Ah, now what?

(The Fifth Daria, Quinn dressed in Edwardian cricketing gear, is rushing around the console.)

QUINN: Oh, nooo! I'm never going to fix all this! Stupid Cybermen shooting up the console! Ted's dead, Dawn and Elsie are all whiny and upset and now the TARDIS is short-circuiting! This is just so unfair!

(She bumps into Tom who is also at the controls.)

QUINN: (coldly) Excuse me, please. Can I get past?

TOM: ...excuse me?

QUINN: Excuse me!

TOM: Excuse me?!!?

QUINN: Ugh. Fine, I'll go around you if you're gonna make a real big deal about this!

TOM: It's you!

QUINN: Yes, I know, you're really pleased to meet me, I get that a lot, especially from geeks. I bring light into your grey little world, it's burden, move on. I'm having an incredibly stressful time at the moment and my pores can only take so much, so just go over there whoever you are while I, uh... fix this. Somehow.

TOM: You have no idea what you're doing.

QUINN: I do so! It's just... hang on! The TARDIS! It's been redecorated! I loved the classic early-80s neo-futurism! Now it looks like a septic tank from "Farscape"! Oh, the humanity! It's even worse than the padded-cell option!

TOM: Well, this is a sobering piece of self-examination and no mistake. But we should convince the fact us slamming into each other could cause a temporal paradox big enough to blow a whole in time and space the exact size of...

QUINN: (horrified realization) ...CASHMAN'S!!!!

TOM: That's a bit undramatic, isn't it?

QUINN: Clearly you have no idea what Cashman's is! As if your wardrobe didn't give it away. Eww, a blue suit with red stripes? And trainers? Have you ever even heard of fashion?

TOM: Says the girl dressed as an Edwardian cricketing umpire?

QUINN: This is Brideshead Revisited chic, I'll have you know!

TOM: I'll have you know you're only wearing that because when you last regenerated you got lost in the TARDIS corridors, used your old clothes instead of a ball of string to find your way out and was so self-conscious you'd rather dress in cricket whites that take off your shirt?

QUINN: Of course I wouldn't! I'd just changed from a strapping young black athlete into me - it wasn't like I was in some bra/panties combo to start with... Hey, how in the name of Terileptil fellatio do you know that? Are you stalking me?

TOM: Look at me, Daria. Take a good look and work it out yourself.

QUINN: ...oh.

TOM: Uh-huh.

QUINN: You're a groupie.

TOM: I'm not a groupie, Daria, I'm you!

QUINN: OK, you're my biggest groupie, whatever! Look, when you zoom around time and space saving planets, fighting monsters and leading the crusade against unfashionable clothes and unsightly skin conditions, people notice and you become popular. It's the curse of being me, I guess, but that doesn't mean you guys can spy on me after traumatic regenerations and-or sex changes!

TOM: I'm ONE of those traumatic regenerations and-or sex changes! I'm you in a different body, Daria! Look at my face, because those are the pores you're going to have to be concerned about in the future.

(A very, very long pause.)

QUINN: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! Oh, I thought a friend dying, the dinosaurs going extinct and having to go round shooting monsters with laser guns like Sigourney Weaver in that film, not the one where she went bald - very brave choice, but it didn't work - the one before that, was bad and now my future is even worse!

(She resets controls.)

TOM: You know, Daria, before you go, I'd like to say that I loved being you, running around, being cute and popular and fashionable with a squeaky voice and beautiful red hair.

QUINN: (touched) You do?

TOM: I'd like to say that. But we both know it'd be an utter lie. Sod off to your own timestream!

(Tom slams down a lever and Quinn vanishes.)

TOM: Phew. Today was really starting to get surreal.

(The prow of the SS Titanic smashes through the wall of the TARDIS, sending chunks of coral everywhere.)

TOM: Oh, this is just taking the piss!

(End flashback.)

DeMARTINO: I trust you can share my desire for TOTAL FREAKING OBLIVION, Junior.

GLASS WOMAN: Oh just shut up and drive.

(Caption: "YPRES, 1914. SLIGHT RETURN." Time is still frozen. The TARDIS lands and everyone emerges.)

CAPTAIN: ...and I really want to emphasize how positive a learning experience this has been for me, and how even as my life reaches its last moments there are still opportunities for growth and spiritual development.

MARINA: Aren't you even slightly worried about the fact you're gonna die? I mean, won't your family worry about you?

CAPTAIN: Oh, Minerva...

MARINA: Marina.

CAPTAIN: Marina. That's what I said. I did go out to the front line of a conflict where five thousand men are shot dead every week, so it won't be a huge surprise if I don't come back. And I'm certain my wife will be a strong enough masculine authority figure for my boys, especially little Maxwell Dean. I'm sure he'll grow up to make the Morgendorffer name proud!

TRENT: (thoughtful) M. D. Morgendorffer?

CAPTAIN: Yeah, he's a precocious little scamp. You know, his brothers call him "Mad Dog". Oh, it's a shame I won't be able to pass on my wisdom to his children, but I'm sure he'll be a better father than I can ever hope to be.

MARINA: (to DeMartino) Is this, like, relevant to ANYTHING? Should we be interested in this information?

DeMARTINO: I'm sure there's AT LEAST ONE parallel universe where this news IS EVEN REMOTELY important and MAKES A GREAT DEAL OF SENSE about events IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. Right here and now, though? WASTING VALUABLE OXYGEN AND NITROGEN!

GLASS WOMAN: Right. You go back into the crater, we restart time and history proceeds without problem.

CAPTAIN: I'm more than happy to help, Attractive Slender Glass Woman, but won't my knowledge of all this effect my future choices and alter events?

GLASS WOMAN: No, you will not remember this due to a temporal perception filter.

CAPTAIN: Oh, good. Um, and what does that mean in English?

(The glass woman bashes him over the head with a frying pan and he falls into the crater where the German is about to shoot himself.)

MARINA: Do we have to watch this? If I want to see a snuff film, there's that DVD of what you did to Seth Green...

TRENT: No way, Marina. I've got a vibe about this. Musicians can sense this sort of thing.

DeMARTINO: Especially when they stand THAT CLOSE to their SPEAKERS!

(Time restarts. The German is about to pull the trigger when suddenly "Silent Night" is heard from both sides of No Man's Land. Both German and the Captain are taken by surprise. Soldiers emerge from both trenches with white flags. The Captain and the German go to their respective sides, amazed and overjoyed.)

TRENT: Hah! I knew it! Christmas, 1914, the day World War I stopped for a whole day for a party. Man, I bet this would be a good time to do a cover of "This Is The End."

DeMARTINO: There is NEVER a good time for that ATONAL ABOMINATION! And don't you even THINK about "FREAKING FRIENDS"!

TRENT: Fine. I'm off. I'm going back to er, whoever my current groupies are, regenerating and going to embrace my new life, even if I no longer play the bass.

DeMARTINO: What?! After the sheer POINTLESS NIHILISM of this CRUEL AND VINDICTIVE UNIVERSE?

TRENT: Dude, Christmas Truce! No one died! We all thought those guys were going to bite the bullet, but they survived! That's enough to restore my faith. OK, glass lady, take me home!

(The glass woman takes Trent's hand and they vanished.)

DeMARTINO: THE ABSOLUTE MORON!

MARINA: It seemed pretty life-affirming to me.

DeMARTINO: No doubt, Marina, but LEST WE FORGET this heartwarming YULETIDE ARMISTICE was an illegal action bordering on MUTINY on both sides AND A LOT OF THE PEOPLE INVOLVED IN IT WERE EXECUTED BY THEIR OWN PEOPLE! Those two idiots are still going to die, JUST NOT IN THAT CRATER!

(Beat.)

MARINA: Have you ever thought of seeing a therapist or something? You can be such a downer sometimes. If not all the time.

(Trent's TARDIS. The Glass Woman brings Trent in.)

TRENT: Thanks for the lift.

GLASS WOMAN: No worries. Good luck with the whole reincarnation thing.

TRENT: Yeah, it probably doesn't hurt as much as people say.

GLASS WOMAN: Um, it really does. No media bias there, it may be all glowy and magical but it stings like a bitch.

TRENT: Aw. Don't bring me down, lady.

GLASS WOMAN: It's kind of hard to do when you're basically the Grim Reaper.

TRENT: Well, with that attitude, I'm not surprised.

GLASS WOMAN: Bite me, Time Cynic!

(The glass woman vanishes. Trent sways, his hands starting to glow.)

TRENT: Okay. Guess this it. End on a song.

(He twists a dial and ELO fills the control room.)

TRENT: (sings along) You've got me running, going out of mind, you've got me thinking I'm wasting my time, don't bring me down! NO-NO-NO-NO! Ooh-woo-hoo! I'll tell you one more before I get off the floor, don't bring me down!

(Outside in the Antarctic, Angie and Wind emerge from the trapdoor into the blizzard.)

ANGIE: Shit! It's still freezing! Who would have guessed?

WIND: We should totally have killed some soldiers and stole their warm fur uniforms...

ANGIE: With your hips? Bitch, please.

(They hurry over to the TARDIS. ELO can be heard inside.)

ANGIE: Hey, we're locked out!

WIND: Don't you have a key to this police box? It's how we got into this mess in the first place.

ANGIE: Oh yeah, but between being attacked by pirates, cyborgs and all the exploding planets, I must have totally misplaced it.

WIND: That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard all day! And believe me, it's up against some competition.

(He bangs on the TARDIS.)

WIND: Daria! Let us in!

(Inside, the song is nearly at the climax. Trent is slumped drunkenly over the controls, face and hands glowing. There is a hammering at the door.)

WIND: (VO) Daria, don't leave us out here to die! It'll definitely bring on my anxiety attacks!

TRENT: Huh?

(He groggily opens the doors, letting the groupies in.)

ANGIE: Daria!

TRENT: (unwell) Oooh, change of shift, Ralph...

(He keels over back onto the floor in time with the final chord of the song. Angie and Wind rush over just in time to see the glow vanish, leaving someone in Trent's clothes. Very similar, but younger, female and quite obviously called Jane.)

WIND: Ooooh, Angie, this is really messing with the fabric of my fragile little mind! I think my whole gender perspective has been flipped upside down! Oh god, was I really just wearing mummy's dresses and lipsticks for a dare or was I actually awakening something deep within me? Is that why none of my relationships work out, because I crave the masculine rather than the feminine and...

(Jane cracks open her eyes. She sounds hungover.)

JANE: Can you guys just please shut up? My whole consciousness has just been flipped upside down and inside out before being shoved the wrong way into a brand new central nervous system. Some quiet would be appreciated.

WIND: Eep!

(Jane manages to sit up and looks at her new body.)

JANE: Hey. Those are new. I'm a chick now.

(She pulls out her shirt and looks down.)

JANE: Day-am. I am a hot chick too! Am I into guys now or still into girls? Oh, I can always be bisexual. It's very bohemian and artistic. Mmm.

(She gets to her feet and wanders across the room.)

ANGIE: It's Daria in a brand new body!

WIND: Like the Dalai Lama?

ANGIE: Sure, let's go with that.

(Jane picks up a mirror and looks in it. Trent's face is reflected. She frowns, pops off the mirror frame and pulls out the photo of Trent, so she can actually see her reflection properly.)

JANE: Nice. Would you do me? I'D do me.

ANGIE: Um, Daria?

JANE: Do I look like Daria?

WIND: No.

JANE: Just checking.

WIND: But what happened to you? You were a man five seconds ago.

JANE: I bet butterflies don't get this kind of body-shaming from other caterpillars.

ANGIE: So you DID change?

JANE: Change, renewal, something pretentious like that. It's part of me, part of the TARDIS and without it I would be well and truly screwed. Anyway, I feel like going somewhere more interesting than white on white. Somewhere with some colour. Somewhere worth painting.

(She crosses to the controls and slams down a lever.)

(A strange purple stone landscape with hoop formations like a giant croquet lawn, with huge lakes of silver reflecting the orange sky. Caption: "THE PLANET VULCAN, 2020. THAT'LL PISS OFF THE TREKKIES." The TARDIS lands and Jane steps out, carrying an easal and some paint supplies.)

JANE: Now this is my kinda landscape. Come on, you two, I need someone to pose for me. Plus I can tell you about this crazy dream I had about a glass woman and a really annoying English guy...

(Angie and Wind creep out of the TARDIS and look around.)

ANGIE: This is kinda trippy.

JANE: (OOV) Oh, and don't fall into any of the mercury swamps, that'd be real bad for you...

(Startled, Wind jumps back into Angie and they both fall into the lake of quicksilver. Jane returns and sees them.)

JANE: I need new friends.

(As Angie and Wind climb out of the swamp, she goes back to where she's set up her easel and starts painting. A man emerges from behind a rock.)

EXAMINER: Ah, hello! I'm the examiner sent from Earth to check out that mysterious alien spacecraft you colonists found at the bottom of the swamp. I suppose you're here to greet me covertly before any insurgent elements...

(A masked man jumps over the hill, shoots the Examiner dead, then runs off. Jane keeps painting, but now adds the fresh corpse to her landscape.)

JANE: You know, if I was still musical, I bet this would make a great song.

(Ypres 1914. DeMartino and Marina stand outside the TARDIS.)

MARINA: So if you don't change into another Daria right now, you're going to die?

DeMARTINO: As ever, Marina, your GRASP OF BASIC FACTS is undiminished.

MARINA: Well, then change! I'm not going have a corpse at my wedding.

DeMARTINO: No, Marina. I've changed, uh... well, to be honest, I've completely LOST COUNT of how many times I've changed since I was THAT TALENTLESS GUITAR-PLAYING NEANDERTHAL. It never gets any better.

MARINA: That's pretty cynical.

Marina, I am VERY cynical. I actually come from a race OF SUPER-INTELLIGENT ALIENS who call themselves "Time Cynics" BECAUSE OF THEIR INNATE CYNICISM!

MARINA: They say cynics are never disappointed. So why are you so miserable?

DeMARTINO: Hmm. I dare say you're going to IMPLY I AM SOMEHOW A FRUSTRATED IDEALIST, I suppose? Or maybe I JUST HAPPEN TO HAVE FINALLY BECOME CYNICAL ABOUT BEING CYNICAL! Did that thought EVER OCCUR TO YOU?!

MARINA: Daria, I thought we were friends.

DeMARTINO: Only because your INCOMPATIBLE SEXUALITY made the groupie thing AWKWARD.

MARINA: Look, I survived all that crap you unwittingly put me through. And so did you. Doesn't it restore some faith in you?

DeMARTINO: NO! This whole experience MERELY RE-AFFIRMS my long held suspicion that MY LIFE is a STORM CLOUD of PURE MISERY flooding a dried-up plain OF DEAD HOPES AND BETRAYED DREAMS! My life is a PUSTULANT SORE on the EYE OF A VISIONARY, a SEAGULL swimming through AN OCEAN OF PHLEGM, a MALIGNANT TUMOR that says "Don't worry about me, Daria, I'LL BE OKAY!!"

(Marina sighs, rolls her eyes and magically vanishes. DeMartino doesn't notice, continuing to rant, eye bulging.)

DeMARTINO: I HATE MY LIFE! I WANT TO KILL MYSELF! I WANT TO DIE!

(Marina and Link reappear.)

LINK: Wow. Daria is fetishizing a long drawn-out torment-riddled death. I'm glad you brought me here, I'd never have suspected this otherwise. Hey, how did you bring me here?

MARINA: I'm a magical space lesbian now.

LINK: Hmm. Pity your mum could only accept the first two parts of that statement. Hey, Daria? Remember me? You abandoned me on a Cyberman-infested colony ship trapped in the event horizon of a black hole!

DeMARTINO: As you were not in ANY WAY inconvenienced by the NUCLEAR FIRESTORM that Marina and I WERE AT THE EPICENTRE OF, I'd have thought you were the LUCKY ONE, Link!

LINK: Well, both of you seem to have escaped unscathed.

DeMARTINO: WITH THE TEDIOUS INEVITABILITY OF NON NEWTONIAN-MOTION, LINK, YOU ARE INCORRECT AS EVER! I'll be BLISSFULLY DEAD in a few minutes!

MARINA: Unless he regenerates and stays alive.

DeMARTINO: I DON'T WANT TO REGENERATE! I HATE MY LIFE! And frankly, Link, I'm not particularly WILD about YOURS, either!

MARINA: I've spent ages trying to convince him there are things worth living for. Kinda thinking I should have spent the afternoon making out with my fiancee instead.

DeMARTINO: THERE IS NOTHING WORTH LIVING FOR!

LINK: Oh, so you're going to die rather than risk being proved wrong.

MARINA: Damn, I thought Daria was the cynic.

LINK: Go to hell, Daria. Come on, Marina, I'll walk you down the aisle.

MARINA: All right, but I'm warning you, wear a condom if you go after my bridesmaids...

(Marina and Link vanish, leaving DeMartino alone.)

DeMARTINO: Oh yeah! That's right! Try to and REAWAKEN MY HUNGER TO LIVE and then go off AND TAKE A HIKE instead of making my EXISTENCE REWARDING! You call yourselves PROMISING YOUNG GROUPIES! Bah!

(He storms off into the TARDIS which dematerializes.)

(DeMartino stalks around the console, grumbling.)

DeMARTINO: Fine! You want a STRONG ROLE MODEL with an EQUALLY-STRONG moral compass? You want a Daria who can SOCIALIZE and interact HEALTHY with others and isn't completely NEGATIVE AND APATHETIC and doesn't have a CREEPY vocal intonation? A Daria willing to SHOW EMOTION and not DISTANCE themselves from problems? Someone NOT cold and ISOLATED BY THEIR INTELLIGENCE or DOWNRIGHT NAUSEATED by HUMAN EMOTION? Is that what you all want? Well... you asked for it!

(DeMartino laughs evilly as golden energy streams out of him. When it ends, his clothes hang baggily on a teenage girl with long brown hair in pigtails and big blue eyes. She stares at her reflection on the console monitor and gives a high-pitched squeak of relief.)

STACY: I'm cute again! I'm just so glad (sobs) I'm not creepy any more! And my eyes stay inside my head! This is so cool! Now, let's go somewhere for a party and maybe I can get my ear pierced. I could use an earring that looks like a little person clinging to your ear, those are so cute...

(She presses one button on the console and there is an explosion. All the screens light up with "SELF-DESTRUCT ACTIVATED". The Cloister Bell starts to ring urgently.)

STACY: (upset) Oh, no! That's the noise the TARDIS always makes when I do something stupid. I'M SUCH AN IDIOT! I'll never get anywhere in life and I'm only ten seconds old!

(Crying, Stacy runs out the doors only to only find the TARDIS is floating high above a city at night. Caption: "SHEFFIELD, 2018. WHAT VARIETY.")

STACY: (starts to hyperventilate) I can't believe this is happening to me! I knew this was going to happen to me! Oh, why did I wear that signet ring and crushed velvet?

(The console explodes in a fireball, hurling Stacy out the doors and plummeting down through the clouds as the TARDIS dissolves into flames.)

(Aboard a broken down train, a group of terrified commuters are about to be devoured by a mutant splat-gore monster with lots of tentacles. As they scream and their knees knock in fear, Stacy falls through the carriage roof and squashes the hell-beast with a cry of "Eep!".)

STACY: Wow. That was cool!

(Stacy gets up and dusts herself down.)

STACY: Sorry, that was totally rude of me. I'm Daria.

SIOBHAN: Daria who?

STACY: Morgendorffer. But I'm thinking of changing the name. Uh, was I interrupting something?

RANDY: That squiddby thing just tried to kill us all!

STACY: Oh no! And it's probably only stunned! We need to get out of here!

SKYLER: Yeah, we should. I'm Skyler Feldman, this is Randy and this is Siobhan Hogan.

STACY: Hi, Siobhan. You're cool. Don't mind the clothes - five minutes ago I was a crazy old Vietnam vet with anger issues, I'm going to get something more fashionable as soon as I can. One hundred per cent cotton, no blends.

(They scramble out the doors, off the train and down the hillside.)

SIOBHAN: Um, didn't you just fall out of the sky through the roof?

STACY: Yeah, I did, didn't I? God, that must've looked so stupid! And I blew up my own TARDIS! That's never a good way to start the night, let alone a regeneration! Gee, this is so humiliating! I just want to die - well, not as much as I did when I was actually dying, but still!

(She gives a forced laugh.)

STACY: So, er, I suppose there aren't normally hell-beast squids around here?

RANDY: Not usually, no.

SKYLER: Never happened before!

SIOBHAN: It's like the start of something terrible...

STACY: You mean on top of everything else, something wierd is going on? Unh! Stupid! Unh! Unh! No matter what I do, alien monsters need fighting before I can get a new outfit and do my hair! And actually, my head's still a bit spinny from...

(She falls face first into the grass.)

STACY: (muffled) This is going to be a long night.

***

(All the characters appear as they would in "Daria".)

Daria Who is gonna fix it! Daria Who will put it right!
As they move across the galaxy at twice the speed of light!
Back into the future, the TARDIS travels time
With their various groupies faithfully at their side!

A painted-blue policeman's booth, but when inside the doors
A vast interior complex defies dimensional laws!
Daria has low esteem for others and eats pizza for lunch
And they always have the answers when it comes down to the crunch!

There are lots of evil monsters, merchandised as toys
Even though Daria's the hero who stops their evil ploys
"Exterminate!" "Excuse me!" That Texan monotone!
Daria defeats the Daleks, as they are often prone.

Shallow threats to time and outer space, their stupidity Daria will mock
Daria's sarcasm puts idiots back in their place, right around the lock!
The "why" and "when", the "how" and "where", the "back", "beyond" and "through"
The "what" and "if" and "maybe" will depend on Daria Who!

Daria Who is gonna fix it! Daria Who will put it right!
As they move across the galaxy at twice the speed of light!
Back into the future, the TARDIS travels time
With their various groupies faithfully at their side!