The Daily Late Nightly Show (The Doctor)

You know, some people have a beef with Number Ten and I don’t get it. How does one deal with the fact that their character killed 2.47 Billion children because they considered their own species so toxic and bad for the Universe that it was the only solution?

Oh, but he didn’t really do that.

Why, yes, but he would have and he thought that he did. I felt he was remarkably well adjusted, considering.

The New Guy

Michelle Wolf

Why Vote?

Trevor’s guests this Week are-

Mr. Continuity

Speaking of The War Doctor

Oh, and about killing Brown people

Larry’s panelists this Week are-

Mr. Mainstream

Number One (William Hartnell) and Number Two (Patrick Troughton)

Stephen’s guests this week are-

My personal portrayal? Probably close to Christopher Eccleston (not Bernie).

You think it’ll last forever: people and cars and concrete. But it won’t. One day it’s all gone. Even the sky. My planet’s gone. It’s dead. It burned, like the Earth. It’s just rocks and dust. Before its time.
What happened?
There was a war, and we lost.
A war with who? What about your people?
I’m a Time Lord. I’m the last of the Time Lords. They’re all gone. I’m the only survivor. I’m left traveling on my own, ‘cos there’s no one else.
There’s me.
You’ve seen how dangerous it is — do you want to go home?
I don’t know… I want… Oh, can you smell chips?
Yeah. Yeah!
I want chips.
Me too.
Right then, before you get me back in that box, chips it is. And you can pay.
No money.
What sort of date are you? Come on, then, tight wad, chips are on me… we’ve only got five billion years ’til the shops close!

Ah, The Moment. It always shows our true selves and that’s a pity.

Or not.


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    • on 04/27/2016 at 22:42

    Vent Hole

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:00

    We race

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:03

    Cruz/Kasich alliance

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:06

    Carli? A complete failure.

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:11

    Trump rhymes with dump.

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:13

    Back In Black!

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:13

    They really don’t need a host. It could be a clip show and be funnier.

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:15

    Michael, you’re dead to me!

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:17

    So my Hitler metaphors are not so off topic.

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:18

    Yes. Lewis Black!

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:21

    That bit just made the show worth watching tonight.

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:31


      • on 04/27/2016 at 23:36

      Larry Larry Larry Wilmore

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:33

    2016 I haven’t forgotten you Motherfucker.

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:35

    Halie Berry is Larry’s running mate.

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:38

    Breaking News- Larry Wilmore remembers.

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:43

    Breaking: people still watch CNN?

    • on 04/27/2016 at 23:45

    Lemonade- Franchesca Ramsey

    • on 04/28/2016 at 00:13

    Richard II

    • on 04/28/2016 at 00:16

    No matter where. Of comfort no man speak:
    Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
    Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
    Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth;
    Let’s choose executors, and talk of wills:
    And yet not so — for what can we bequeath
    Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
    Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke’s,
    And nothing can we call our own but death;
    And that small model of the barren earth
    Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
    For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground,
    And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
    How some have been depos’d, some slain in war,
    Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos’d;
    Some poison’d by their wives, some sleeping kill’d;
    All murder’d — for within the hollow crown
    That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
    Keeps Death his court: and there the antic sits,
    Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp;
    Allowing him a breath, a little scene
    To monarchize, be fear’d, and kill with looks;
    Infusing him with self and vain conceit —
    As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
    Were brass impregnable — and, humour’d thus,
    Comes at the last, and with a little pin
    Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king!

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