Doctor Who: The Trial Of A Time Lord : The Ultimate Foe - Plot & Excerpts
In an identical office. At an identical desk. Except that his seniority was reflected in petty embellishments: two spluttering candles instead of one; a branched hatstand for his raglan coat; engraved lettering on the tome-like ledger. And this Mr Popplewick reflected the similarity. Same frock-coat, winged collar, and cravat as the other Mr Popplewick. The sole difference was in the spectacles perched on his nose. They were half-frame, enabling him to blink over the top of them at the newcomers. ‘Ah, Doctor.’ His mariner, too, was slightly more friendly: though still weighted by the dogma of bureaucracy. ‘At least you’re expecting us.’ ‘We all are.’ ‘Your lookalike outside wasn’t,’ volunteered Glitz. ‘He is the exception. As a very junior clerk, Mr Popplewick is not permitted to expect anyone, sir.’ ‘Hey, Doc,’ Glitz nudged the Doctor familiarly. ‘What’s he talking about?’ ‘I think it’s called bureaucracy.’ ‘I prefer to call it order, sir. And the holy writ of order is procedure.
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