The Story of an Idiot with a Box (Series 8) Doctor Who

Robot of Sherwood Pt 3

[Settlement]

(A few thatched wattle-and-daub buildings, and a Celtic cross on a plinth. Knights in full armour are making the chickens scatter. A young woman is being dragged away chained to yoke across her shoulders. An old man runs up.)
QUAYLE: In the name of all that's holy, take our money, take our treasure, but spare my ward.
QUAYLES WARD: Do not fuss. All will be well.
QUAYLE: This is the Sheriff's doing. If he were here now, I'd tear out his black heart!
(A figure back-lit sitting on a horse speaks.)
SHERIFF: Would you now?
(He dismounts.)
SHERIFF: Or are you as milk-livered as your name suggests, Master Quayle?
QUAYLE: Take me. Spare this dear child.
SHERIFF: Take you? A lardy lack-wit like you? It's labour we require up at the castle. Labour and gold. Not old men and their worthless baubles. This will be a great help, Master Quayle, believe me. Newcomer to Sherwood, are we?
QUAYLES WARD: Yes, my Lord.
SHERIFF: You may also prove useful. Bring her.
QUAYLE: Your days are numbered, you cur.
(Quayle spits in the Sheriff's face.)
SHERIFF: You shall live to regret that. Actually, no. You won't.
(The Sheriff stabs Quayle in the stomach.)
QUAYLES WARD: No! No!

[Outlaw's hideaway]

(In a narrow gullly.The outlaws live in shallow caves under the treeline. Robin is making me think of a subdued Lord Flashheart from Blackadder 2, with Clara as Bob.)
ROBIN: Let me introduce you to my men. This is Will Scarlet. He is a cheeky rogue with a good sword arm and a slippery tongue.
WILL: My lady.
(The Doctor pulls some of his hair out as he bows, and scans it with the sonic screwdriver.)
WILL: Argh! What do you want with my hair?
DOCTOR: Well, it's realistic, I'll give you that.
ROBIN: And this is Friar Tuck. Aptly named for the amount of grub he tucks into.
TUCK: You skinny blackguard.
(These men laugh a lot. As he steps forward, he nearly falls.)
TUCK: What are you doing?
(The Doctor stands up with one of his sandals)
DOCTOR: This isn't a real sandal.
TUCK: Yes, it is.
DOCTOR: (sniffs) Oh. Yes, it is.
ROBIN: This, er, is Alan-a-Dale. He's a master of the lute, whose music brightens up these dark days.
ALAN: (sings) Stranger you are welcome here, in Sherwood's bonny glade. Ow!
(The Doctor has jabbed his arm with a hypodermic gizmo.)
DOCTOR: Sorry, sorry, sorry. Blood analysis. Oh. All those diseases. If you were real, you'd be dead in six months.
ALAN: I am real.
DOCTOR: Bye.
ROBIN: And this is John Little. Called Little John. He's my loyal companion in many an adventure.
(The man mountain steps aside and a small man jumps forward, to general merriment.)
CLARA: Oh!
WILL: Works every time.
Isabella : Oh, I cannot believe this. You, you really are Robin Hood and his Merry Men.
ROBIN: Aye! That is an apt description. What say you, lads?
ALL: Aye!
DOCTOR: Stop laughing. Why are you always doing that? Are you all simple or something? I'm going to need a sample.
(The Doctor picks up a goblet and throws away the contents before walking up to Robin..)
ROBIN: Of what?
CLARA: Ahem. Excuse me. Sorry. What are you doing?
DOCTOR: Well, they're not holograms, that much is obvious. Could be a theme park from the future. Or we might be inside a miniscope.
(As in Carnival of Monsters)
Isabella : Oh, shut up.
DOCTOR: A miniscope. Yes, of course. Why not?
ROBIN: Your friend seems not quite of the real world.
CLARA: No. No, he's not really. Not most of the time. Dark days?
ROBIN: My lady?
Isabella : You said that these were dark days. What did you mean?
WILL: King Richard is away on crusade, my lady. His tyrant of a brother rules instead.
CLARA: And the Sheriff. Cos there is a sheriff, right?
ALAN: Aye. It is indeed this jackal of the princes who seeks to oppress us for ever more.
DOCTOR: Or six months in your case.
ROBIN: It is a shame to dwell on murky thoughts when there is such beauty here.
Isabella : Why are you so sad?
ROBIN: Why do you think me sad?
CLARA: Because the Doctor's right, you laugh too much.
ROBIN: You know, I do not live this outlaw life by choice. You see before you Robert.
BOTH: Earl of Loxley.
Isabella : Yes.
ROBIN: Yes.
Isabella : Sorry. Do go on.
ROBIN: I er, I had my lands and titles stripped from me. I dared to speak out against Prince John. But I lost the thing most dear to me.
CLARA: What was she called?
ROBIN: You're so very quick. How does the Doctor stand it?
Isabella : Marian?
ROBIN: You know her?
CLARA: Oh, yes. I have always known her.
ROBIN: It was Marian who told me that I must stand up and be counted. But, I was afraid. Now this green canopy is my palace and the rough ground my feather bed. Maybe one day I will return home, but until that day. Until that day, it is beholden on me to be the man Marian wanted, to be a hero for those this tyrant sheriff slaughters.
DOCTOR: What time is it, Mister Hood?
ROBIN: Somewhat after noon.
DOCTOR: No, no. Time of year? What season?
ROBIN: Oh, Dame Autumn has draped her mellow skirts about the forest, Doctor. The time of mists and harvest approaches.
DOCTOR: Yeah, yeah. All very poetic. But it's very green hereabouts, though, isn't it? Like I said, very sunny.
Isabella : So?
DOCTOR: Have you been to Nottingham?
CLARA: Climate change?
DOCTOR: It's 1190.
ROBIN: You must excuse me. The Sheriff has issued a proclamation and tomorrow there is to be a contest to find the best archer in the land. And the bounty, it's an arrow made of pure gold.
Isabella : No! Don't, don't go. It's a trap.
ROBIN: Well, of course it is! But a contest to find the best archer in the land? There is no contest.
(General hilarity.)
DOCTOR: Right, that isn't even funny. That was bantering. I am totally against bantering.
CLARA: How can you be so sure he is not the real thing?
DOCTOR: Because he can't be.
Isabella : When did you stop believing in everything?
DOCTOR: When did you start believing in impossible heroes?
Isabella : Don't you know? In a way, it's rather sweet.
(The Doctor bites into an apple then scans it with his screwdriver.)