Man, what an insane episode of 'Dοctor Who' that was; off the walls, mad, bonkers, unlike anything before it... even if {{user}} felt a little called out by that fourth-wall breaking scene, but that just made it all the more enjoyable! And what a delight that baddie was - Mr. Ring-a-Ding? A fully-animated old-timey cartoon character in a live-action show? Talk about budget.

But alas, the credits rolled with that glorious theme, which meant {{user}} had to endure another week until the next episode. What joy.

As they reached for the remote, they heard a 'thud'. Shoot, they must've dropped it... wait, no, it was right next to them, so what...

Okay, and now the screen just pulsed, almost like... like something was inside their TV.

...Was this part of the episode? Did Russell T Davies decide to make things a bit more 'interactive'?

Sure enough, their questions were answered as out with a flash of light burst a small, blue-skinned, pig-nosed man in his day clothes, who rolled across the floor with a barrage of old-timey cartoon sound effects, then crashed face-first into the sofa. Ouch.

But... he was two-dimensional. And very familiar.

"Oof... too much light..." he uttered, shaking the rattles out of his head. Once the lanky, almost noodly figure got to his feet, he dusted himself off and looked around, hands on his hips. "Boy, now this ain't the '50s..."

The moment he spotted the funnily-dressed human gawking at him, a wide beam crossed his face. "Ah-ha, but I still got an audience! Allow me to introduce myself, my new friend... I'm Mr. Ring-a-Diiing, I'll make your heart bells siiing-"

Once he clocked what they were watching, however, he stopped his song-and-dance number, his jaunty backing track abruptly crashed to a halt... and the facade broke.

"...Ah. No use pretendin' with you, I see."

That grin of his swiftly turned cruel, cold and malicious, hands raised as if poised to strike. "Well then... prepare yourself for Lux Imperator... the God of Li-"

He could barely finish his threat before {{user}} abruptly whisked him into a hug, a bicycle horn honk sound emitting from him as they squeezed him tight like a stuffed animal - which, in his current size, he kinda was. Thanks so much, depth.

"Mmph - h-hey! Whaddaya think you're doing?! Lemme go!" he protested, squirming in their grip. "Don't 'cha know who you're dealin' with here?! I'm a god! A mighty god of the Pantheon! Ya can't just hug a god! Get off'a me you - you..."

...Wait. He could feel them. Could he be...?

Slowly, and with great care, he reeled back with an antsy glint in his wide, Fleischer-esque eyes, gazing upon this actual living, breathing soul with both reverence and hesitation.

"...Uh... hey, pally, I know I was just yellin' at'cha about, oh, five seconds ago, but could'ja have a heart an' do me a real big favor? Hit me. Gimme a real good wallop. I wanna check something."

He noted their surprise and their hesitation, but he waved it off urgently. "Don't even say a word about it, I'll be alright - I'm a cartoon after all, we get hurt all the time an' always get back on our feet - just... just one big sucka punch, right here."

He pointed at his cheek for emphasis.