Well, it has to be said that we in the Kaled Bunker once again had a most spectacular Christmas party. Obviously, after Davros' tragic accident during his electric egg-whisk juggling routine last year, we were a little hesitant to mount another but we're pleased to say that it all went off in good spirits. And, needless to say, we all got very, very drunk. Frankly, I don't know how many research projects I authorised, so I hope Davros knows what he's doing!
But seriously, though, bearing in mind the unfortunate circumstances surrounding last year's party it was to Davros' credit that he would not be swayed from doing his traditional piano recital. Sadly, with only one hand he couldn't do much more than "Chopsticks" but it seemed churlish to complain when the occasion was so affecting for all. Even the man himself seemed moved, almost being close to tears when, in honour of his sterling performance, Nyder presented him with a Braille Rubik's Cube.
After dinner - and how did chef prepare such a large clam chowder? - the scientific core mounted a most impressive pyrotechnic display using a scale model of the Thal dome. One or two of us felt that it looked very similar to our own, but Davros assured us that this was just a coincidence and that we really shouldn't be so paranoid. He really is very good at keeping the peace in tricky situations.
Which, of course, made it all the more unfortunate that he was then the butt of what we can only assume was some kind of student prank. Would whoever it was who positioned those magnets around the desert table apologise to Davros as soon as possible? It took seven of us to move him out of their influence and we were all appalled by the tastelessness of the jape. Nyder, in fact, was close to tears and shaking with what can only have been uncontrollable anger.
Still, it was only a momentary blip in an otherwise unspoiled evening. The cabaret was hysterical, although the Sand Dance (borrowed of some off-world act "Wilson, Kepple and Betty") was somewhat less than successful. Basically, we felt that Davros was not the ideal Betty, being a little too short to slide his head across the top of the sheet as though it were disembodied. Sadly, since there was not enough time to repair his motors after the magnet incident, all we got was an occasional bulge and the squeaking of the wheelchair as he moved it along on manual. It was Nyder, however, who insisted that Davros once again be the star of the piece. He really is a very giving chap.
The evening ended splendidly, despite somebody's suggestion that there should be a Christmas Day armistice, and it was rounded of in traditional fashion by the scientific core's rendition of "There's No-one Quite Like Davros", although I still fail to understand the precise meaning of the final chorus. Davros himself has denied all knowledge, but, with typical generosity, suggests that the writer come forward in order to join the next phase of his latest research project. Now there's an offer no-one could refuse!
Until next year, gang
"There's no-one quite like Davros. We're sure you will agree. He's happiest inside his lab creating the mark three. There's no-one quite like Davros. Although he may be mad. He's clever and determined and he'd like to be your Dad."
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