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In the beginning – before the beginning – was the word. And the word was ‘Doctor!’

‘Were you always like this?’ ‘Like what?’ ‘A madman. With a time machine.’ ‘Oh, no. It took ages until I got the time machine.’

He knocked at the door. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘You must be Polly. I’m looking for Amy Pond.’ The girl’s hair was in pigtails. She looked up at the Doctor suspiciously. ‘How do you know my name?’ she asked. ‘I’m very clever,’ said the Doctor seriously.

‘The Time Lords really didn’t like genocide. I’m not too keen on it myself. It’s the potential you’re killing off. What if, one day, there was a good Dalek? What if...’

‘One moment,’ said Amy, ‘I was about to be eaten by that creature. The next I was sitting in the kitchen, talking to Mrs Browning, and listening to The Archers. How did you do that?’ ‘I’m very clever,’ said the Doctor. It was a good line, and he was determined to use it as much as possible.

There was a clunk and the door flew open; the sudden daylight was blinding. The Doctor saw, with delight, his friend, and a familiar big blue police box. He was not certain which to hug first.

‘You’re enjoying this,’ said Amy. ‘My whole world has been taken over by a mysterious voice. All the people are extinct. Rory’s gone. And you’re enjoying this.’ ‘No, I’m not,’ said the Doctor, trying hard not to show how much he was enjoying it.

‘But, Doctor. The human race didn’t die out in 1984.’ ‘New timeline. It’s a paradox.’ ‘And you’re the paradoctor?’ ‘Just the Doctor.’

‘If I wasn’t born, what am I doing here?’ ‘You’re an independent temporal nexus, chronosynclastically established as an inverse...’ He saw her expression, and stopped. ‘You’re telling me it’s timey-wimey, aren’t you?’ ‘Yes,’ he said seriously. ‘I suppose I am.’

‘Where’s Rory? I want him, right now,’ demanded Amy as the TARDIS lurched away into space and time. The Doctor had only briefly met her fiancé, Rory Williams, once before. She didn’t think the Doctor understood what she saw in Rory. Some days, she was not entirely sure what she saw in Rory. But she was certain of this: nobody took her fiancé away from her. ‘Good question. Where’s Rory? Also, where’s seven billion other people?’ he asked. ‘I want my Rory.’

‘It’s quiet. No cars. No birds. Nothing.’ ‘No radio waves,’ said the Doctor. ‘Not even Radio Four.’ ‘You can hear radio waves?’ ‘Of course not. Nobody can hear radio waves,’ he said unconvincingly.

The Doctor had a remarkable memory. The problem was, there was so much of it. He had lived eleven lives (or more: there was another life, was there not, that he tried his best never to think about) and he had a different way of remembering things in each life. The worst part of being however old he was (and he had long since abandoned trying to keep track of it in any way that mattered to anybody but him) was that sometimes things didn’t arrive in his head quite when they were meant to.

‘Could be anyone. The Kin. I mean... it’s like calling yourselves the People. It’s what pretty much every race-name means. Except for Dalek. That means Metal-Cased Hatey Death Machines in Skaronian.’

Amy looked irritated. She wasn’t irritated, but she sometimes liked to give him the impression she was, just to show him who was boss. ‘Why don’t you ever call things by their proper names? The tabley thing over there? It’s called “a table”.’