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Category Archives: daleks

A Ballykillduff Extermination (Of the Blues)

17 Dec
A Ballykillduff Extermination (Of the Blues)

Deep in the heart of Ballykillduff, where the tea is strong and the Daleks have replaced their death rays with tinsel, comes a festive greeting just for you.

A Ballykillduff Extermination (Of the Blues)

“Listen here now, humans of the parish! It is I, Dalek O’Shea, and I have a formal announcement before the Angelus rings.

We have scanned the perimeter of the creamery and found no trace of bad luck. Therefore, by order of the Supreme Council (and Father Murphy), you are all sentenced to a Grand Ould Time.”

The Festive Mandate

  • EXTERMINATE the dry turkey!
  • CELEBRATE with a decent drop of Jameson!
  • REGENERATE after the third helping of pudding!
  • INFILTRATE the neighbor’s house for a quick gossip and a mince pie!

“You will sit by the fire. You will watch the Late Late Show. You will enjoy yourselves… OR BE EXTERMINATED! (But only after we finish this plate of sandwiches.)”

The Wish

May your chimney be wide enough for a Dalek in a Santa hat, may your cows stay milked, and may your Christmas be more powerful than a Sub-Etheric Transmitter.

Nollaig Shona Duit—EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!

 
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Posted by on December 17, 2025 in ballykillduff, christmas wish, daleks

 

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When the President of Ireland met the Ballykillduff Daleks

15 Dec
When the President of Ireland met the Ballykillduff Daleks

When the President of Ireland met the Ballykillduff Daleks

The presidential motorcade, usually a beacon of solemnity, was currently attempting a precarious three-point turn in a field that smelled distinctly of prize-winning Kerry cows. Inside, President McMurrow, a man whose silver hair and kindly eyes belied a mischievous wit, chuckled. “Remind me again, Fiona,” he addressed his chief of staff, “why we bypassed the usual diplomatic channels for a direct engagement with… the Ballykillduff Daleks?”

Fiona, a woman who had seen it all – from rogue shamrock presentations to international incidents involving a missing Taoiseach and a particularly enthusiastic hurling team – sighed. “Because, Mr. President, their ‘Exterminate All Humans’ manifesto was getting an alarming amount of traction on TikTok, and Fine Gael were starting to panic about the youth vote.”

Just then, a shrill, metallic voice screeched from beyond the hawthorn hedge. “EXTERNAL-LIN-GUISH! EX-TER-NAL-LIN-GUISH THE GRAZING MENACE!”

“Ah,” President McMurrow adjusted his tie, a subtle nod to the seriousness of the occasion. “Sounds like our welcoming committee.”

They emerged to a truly surreal sight. Five Daleks, unmistakably Daleks, but with a distinct Ballykillduff charm. One had a tricolour painted rather crudely on its side. Another wore a tiny, ill-fitting leprechaun hat. The leader, a particularly rusty specimen, had what looked suspiciously like a hurley stick strapped to its casing.

“GREET-INGS, FLESH-BAG!” screeched the hurley-wielding Dalek. “WE ARE THE DA-LEKS OF BALLY-KILL-DUFF! PRE-PARE TO BE… ENTER-TAINED!”

President McMurrow raised an eyebrow. “Entertained, you say? Not exterminated?”

“EX-TER-MIN-ATE IS SO… LAST SEA-SON,” replied another Dalek, its eye-stalk swivelling to glare at a sheep that had dared to bleat nearby. “WE HAVE DE-CID-ED TO EM-BRACE LO-CAL CUL-TURE!”

It turned out their TikTok fame had come from their surprisingly viral Riverdance routine. “WE HAVE MOD-I-FIED OUR PLUN-GERS FOR PER-CUSS-IVE DANC-ING!” explained the Dalek with the leprechaun hat. “WOULD YOU LIKE A DEM-ON-STRA-TION, MR. PRES-I-DENT?”

Before McMurrow could answer, a local farmer, Seamus O’Malley, ambled over, scratching his head. “Are these the fellas who keep rearrangin’ my hay bales into the shape of the Millennium Falcon?”

The Daleks froze. “NEG-A-TIVE! THAT IS A SLAN-DER-OUS AC-CU-SA-TION!”

“Oh, come off it,” Seamus scoffed. “My prize-winning ram, Brendan, saw you! Said you were humming the Star Wars theme tune!”

President McMurrow, struggling to suppress a laugh, intervened. “Gentlemen, perhaps we could discuss your, ah, ‘cultural integration’ over a cup of tea? I believe Fiona has brought some Tayto.”

The word ‘Tayto’ seemed to short-circuit the Daleks. “POT-AT-O BASED SNACK PROD-UCT? EX-PLAIN! EX-PLAIN!”

Hours later, the presidential motorcade departed, leaving behind a scene of utter bewilderment and joy. The Ballykillduff Daleks were now sporting tiny GAA jerseys, had learned to play a passable bodhrán rhythm with their plungers, and were eagerly discussing the merits of cheese and onion crisps versus salt and vinegar.

 
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Posted by on December 15, 2025 in daleks, Ireland, president

 

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The Twelve Dalek Days of Christmas

08 Dec
The Twelve Dalek Days of Christmas

The Daleks of Ballykillduff and the Twelve Days of Absolutely Catastrophic Christmas

Ballykillduff was gearing up for its usual festive carnage when the three Daleks (Zeg, Zog, and Zag) decided Christmas was a strategic weakness ripe for conquest. They were wrong. Spectacularly, hilariously, catastrophically wrong.

Day 1 – A Partridge in a Pear Tree Zeg declared himself the new Lord of Christmas and tried to occupy the village pear tree. The tree had ideas. One gust of wind and Zeg shot out like a metallic cannonball, landing upside-down in Mrs Mulgrew’s prize-winning compost heap. “EXTERMINATE THE COMPOST!” he shrieked, muffled by six feet of rotting cabbage. Mrs Mulgrew charged out in hair curlers, brandishing a broom. “You’ll be compost yourself, ya pepper-pot gobshite!” Zeg spent the rest of the day being hosed down by the fire brigade while the entire village filmed it for TikTok.

Day 2 – Two Turtle Doves Zog kidnapped the doves to interrogate them about “avian loyalty.” The doves shat on his dome in perfect unison, then flew off with his eyestalk cover. He chased them screaming “RETURN MY OPTIC!” straight into the duck pond. Ducks 3 – Three French Hens** The hens belonged to Sister Bernadette. They were ninja hens. Zog is still convinced they were cyber-converted. He has PTSD and flinches every time someone says “coq au vin.”

Day 4 – Four Calling Birds Zag tried to weaponising them with tiny Dalek voice modulators. The birds learned one phrase: “ZAG IS A SPAWNFACE.” They followed him everywhere for a week, screeching it at 140 decibels. He now sleeps with industrial earmuffs.

Day 5 – FIVE GOOOOLD RIIIINGS Zeg stole the five gold rings from the jeweller and tried to wear them like Olympic medals. They got stuck on his plunger. The fire brigade had to come back. Again. The chief now has a special “Dalek wedged in something stupid” incident code.

Day 6 – Six Geese a-Laying The geese took one look at three rolling dustbins shouting “EXTERMINATE” and decided it was go-time. Live-streamed goose chase lasted twenty-three glorious minutes. Final score: Geese 47, Daleks 0. Zeg’s dignity is still missing, presumed pecked to death.

Day 7 – Seven Swans a-Swimming The swans were rented from a posh estate for the crib scene. Daleks attempted a synchronized swimming takeover. Swans formed a V-formation and torpedoed them like feathery missiles. Zog was last seen doing 360-degree spins in the fountain yelling “WHY IS EVERY BIRD IN IRELAND EVIL?”

Day 8 – Eight Maids a-Milking The maids were actually eight burly farmers’ daughters who’d had three pints each at the pub. They mistook the Daleks for novelty kegs, flipped them upside down, and tried to “tap” them. Milk stout was not improved by Dalek hydraulic fluid.

Day 9 – Nine Ladies Dancing Céilí night. The Daleks stormed the hall demanding everyone riverdance in perfect Dalek formation. The band struck up “The Siege of Ennis” at double speed. The floor had been waxed with Murphy’s Homemade Furniture Polish (90% butter). All three Daleks achieved low-orbit skids, ricocheted off the walls like pinballs, and took out the Christmas tree, the buffet table, Father Murphy, and the life-size Baby Jesus in one glorious crash. The village gave them a standing ovation and voted it “Best Nativity Ever.”

Day 10 – Ten Lords a-Leaping The lords were the Ballykillduff under-12 hurling team in panto costumes. They used the Daleks as goalposts. Zag still has a hurley stuck through his grille.

Day 11 – Eleven Pipers Piping The pipe band marched straight at them playing “Garryowen” at full volume. Zeg’s audio circuits overloaded; he started speaking only in bagpipe noises for six hours. “SKRL-SKRL-SKREEEEE—EXTERMINATE—SKRL!”

Day 12 – Twelve Drummers Drumming Christmas Eve. The Daleks, battered, leaking, one still wearing a goose feathers like a Hawaiian skirt, rolled to the top of the hill for one last stand. Zeg raised his gunstick: “On the twelfth day of Christmas the Daleks give to you… TOTAL OBLITERATION!” Snow started falling. The village kids pelted them with snowballs. One perfect snowball hit Zeg’s power cell. He short-circuited, lights flashing like a disco, and began singing “Jingle Bells” in a helium voice. Zog and Zag joined in, completely against their will. The entire village gathered, phones out, singing along while three mortified Daleks performed an involuntary Christmas concert on the hillside.

Midnight struck. Church bells rang. Even the geese shut up for a minute.

Zeg’s eyestalk drooped. “Temporary… ceasefire. For tactical reasons.” Someone stuck a Santa hat on him. Someone else tied tinsel round Zog’s plunger. Zag got a sprig of mistletoe wedged in his gun barrel and spent the rest of the night accidentally kissing pensioners.

Mad Jimmy McGroggan raised his pint from the pub doorway and roared: “Merry Christmas, ya glorified teapots!”

And from the top of the hill came three metallic voices, small and very, very embarrassed:

“MER-RY CHRIST-MAS… TO YOU… FILTHY HU-MANS.”

Then, quieter: “…and don’t tell the Supreme Dalek.”

Best Christmas Ballykillduff ever had. The geese are already booked for next year.

 
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Posted by on December 8, 2025 in ballykillduff, carlow, dalek, daleks

 

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04 Dec

THE BALLYKILLDUFF DALEKS SAVE CHRISTMAS

A Festive Tale

CHAPTER ONE

Snow on Ballykillduff Hill

Ballykillduff was not known for dramatic weather. Rain was expected. Mists drifted in like gossip and no one questioned them.
Snow, however, did not fall in this part of Carlow. Not ever.

Which was why the villagers stared at the sky on Christmas Eve as soft flakes began to drift down with the elegance of ballet dancers who had taken a wrong turn.

Jimmy McGroggan burst out of his shed and threw his arms wide.

“I told you so,” he shouted. “The Weather Encourager Three Thousand works at last. I have finally persuaded the heavens to behave.”

Before he could continue bragging, three Daleks came sliding down Ballykillduff Hill.
“Slipping,” cried Zeg. “This terrain is treacherous.”
“My lower section is freezing,” shouted Zog.
“The ground is attempting to exterminate us,” howled Zag.

They crashed together in a perfect metallic heap inside Jimmy’s gooseberry bushes.
Jimmy sighed in a way that suggested he was used to this sort of thing.

Click HERE to continue reading this story.

 
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Posted by on December 4, 2025 in ballykillduff, Christmas story, dalek, daleks, Santa

 

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Dalek in Wonderland

11 Nov
Dalek in Wonderland

Alice had always considered “topsy-turvy” a quaint, almost charming state of affairs. Until, that is, the very air began to hum with an unfamiliar, metallic thrum that made the giant mushroom caps quiver like startled jellyfish. One moment, she was admiring a particularly vibrant cluster of sapphire roses; the next, a bronze behemoth with a singular, unblinking eye had materialized amongst the petals.

“EX-TER-MIN-ATE!” boomed a voice that sounded like a thousand angry kettles boiling simultaneously.

Alice, who had faced jabberwockies, irate queens, and logic-defying tea parties without so much as a proper shriek, found herself doing a rather ungraceful hop-skip-jump backwards. “Oh dear!” she gasped, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of terror and utter bewilderment. “Are you quite alright, sir? You sound rather cross, and honestly, shouting ‘exterminate’ at the scenery is dreadfully rude to the fungi.”

The Dalek, for that is what it was, swiveled its dome-shaped head, its ocular stalk focusing intently on Alice. “OBSERVATION: ORGANIC LIFE FORM IS SPEAKING ILLOGICALLY. THREAT ASSESSMENT: HIGH. INITIATING ELIMINATION PROTOCOL.”

“Elimination protocol?” Alice clutched her apron. “But I’ve only just arrived! And I haven’t even had a chance to ask if you’d like a spot of tea. Though, I must confess, your rather peculiar shape doesn’t look particularly suited for holding a teacup. Perhaps a saucer? Or a very large thimble?”

The Dalek emitted a series of rapid, clicking noises that sounded suspiciously like frustrated whirring. “TEA IS IRRELEVANT! SURRENDER FOR EX-TER-MIN-ATION!”

“Surrender?” Alice scoffed. “And miss out on discovering what’s beyond those particularly tall, stripey mushrooms? Not on your life, you peculiar brass kettle on wheels!” With a burst of courage fueled by sheer absurdity, she turned and darted through the towering roses and lilies, her blue dress a fleeting blur against the soft pink and blue hues of the fantastical garden.

The Dalek, surprisingly nimble for its bulk, began to pursue, its menacing shouts echoing through the quiet glade. “YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE THE INSOLENT ORGANIC!”

Alice, giggling despite herself, glanced back. “Honestly, if you’re going to chase me, at least try to keep up a sensible conversation! Do you know the way to the Mad Hatter’s tea party? I suspect he’d find your insistence on ‘extermination’ rather droll, provided you didn’t actually exterminate the biscuits.”

And so, under the enormous, dappled caps of the enchanted mushrooms, with the spiraling vortex of the sky watching overhead, Alice led the indignant Dalek on a merry, illogical chase, proving once and for all that in Wonderland, even the most terrifying threats could become just another part of the mad, wonderful scenery.

 
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Posted by on November 11, 2025 in A new Alice in Wonderland story, Alice in Wonderland, alice in wonderland adventure, alice on top of the world, dalek, daleks

 

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Alice in Steampunk Dalekland

19 Sep

Chapter One: The Clockwork Rabbit

Alice was minding her own business, which is the most dangerous occupation for a girl of her size and curiosity, because one’s own business has a wicked habit of becoming everyone else’s. She had laid out her tools upon the garden path—one honest screwdriver (which insisted it was quite respectable), a pair of tweezers (which took offense at everything), and a clockwork bird with its beak stuck slightly open as if it had been caught forever in the act of saying “Oh!” The roses wobbled about on their stems in a breeze that smelled faintly of coal and toast, and the daisies gave great, polite sneezes.

“Bless you,” said Alice, for she was a well-brought-up child, even when addressing flowers.

“Steam,” sniffed a daisy, quite dignified. “We are allergic to steam.”

“There is no steam,” said Alice, peering about. “Only sunshine and Sunday. If there were steam, I should see it, and if I saw it, I should surely say it.”

At which a discreet hiss sounded from under the azalea bush, and something somewhere went tick-tock, whirr-clank, hiss-puff!—the exact sort of reply that contradicts a person very rudely without saying a word. The roses coughed. The daisies sneezed again. Alice, being one who could not resist a noise that sounded like an argument between a kettle and a typewriter, put down the screwdriver and knelt in the flowerbed.

“I say,” she called into the dark. “Are you a mouse, a mole, or a machine?”

“None and all,” said a voice like a penny-farthing talking in its sleep. “Stand clear of the exhaust.”

Alice had just time to wonder if an exhaust was something you could trip over when the soil trembled and the bush erupted. Out burst a white blur with brass rivets, whiskers wired like telegraph lines, and a waistcoat stitched with gears that clicked themselves in a most improper fashion. It was the White Rabbit—only more so, as if someone had wound him up to a higher setting.

“You’re late!” he squeaked, and a valve near his collar let off an indignant toot. “Horribly, dreadfully, scandalously late!”

“For what?” said Alice, who did not at all like being told about her lateness, especially by a creature whose ears appeared to be tuned to the Foreign Stations.

“For the Invasion Tea, of course!” He tapped his breast, where a pocket watch had given up being merely a pocket watch and bolted itself to his ribs with a handsome row of screws. “The minutes are marching without permission! The seconds have staged a revolt! The hour has barricaded itself behind a samovar! Oh, oh!” He patted himself down as if he might find a spare minute in his pockets. “No time! Even less than that! Negative time!”

Do you want to find out what is negative time? Simply click on thje link, below, and enjoy.

https://thecrazymadwriter.com/alice-in-wonderland-stories/alice-in-steampunk-dalekland/

 
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Posted by on September 19, 2025 in A new Alice in Wonderland story, Alice in Wonderland, alice in wonderland adventure, dalek, daleks, humor, humour, steampunk

 

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Steampunk in Ballykillduff

16 Sep

The Steampunk Daleks of Ballykillduff

Prologue: A Strange Copper Glow

On most Tuesdays in Ballykillduff, nothing more dramatic happens than the post landing in the wrong cottage and the weather deciding to be three kinds of rain at once. Mrs. O’Toole hangs out washing and scolds the sky. Old Seamus McGroggan studies his pipe as if it might tell him who ate the last custard cream. And young Mick—ambitious, daft, and acrobatic—tries to cycle backwards down the main street while balancing a loaf on his head. (It is, he insists, “training for the circus.”)

But on this particular Tuesday, at precisely half past eleven, a copper light spread over the village like someone had polished the clouds. The hens went quiet. The sheep froze mid-chew. Father O’Malley paused with the parish bell rope in his hand and whispered, “Saints preserve us.”

Then came the sounds:
HSSSSSS… CLANK-CLONK! WHOOOOMP-TCHAK! TOOT-TOOT!
Gears rattled. Pipes sighed. Something big exhaled steam with the weary dignity of a very old kettle.

Mrs. Byrne put down her shopping basket. “That’ll be the weather packing in for the year,” she said.

“Or the circus,” said Mick hopefully, wobbling.

A shadow rippled across the crossroads. And through the copper-coloured sky, down they came: brass-plated, rivet-studded, monocle-winked, stovepipe-hatted… Daleks.

“Ah,” said Seamus softly to his pipe, “we’re doomed so.”

The first of the strange machines landed with a THOONK that made the turf stacks shiver and the pub sign spin half a turn. Its dome lifted a fraction; a curl of steam puffed out like a sigh of satisfaction.
“ATTEND!” wheezed a crisp, Victorian voice through a whistling grille. “THE AGE OF STEAM COMMENCES.”

“Will it take cash,” Mrs. Byrne whispered, “or does it run on scones?”

The brass teapot-on-wheels swivelled its monocled eyestalk. “WE REQUIRE… TEA.”

“Right,” said Mrs. O’Toole, squaring up. “That we can manage.”

And Ballykillduff held its breath.

Do you want to read more?

Click on the link, below, and enjoy.

Steampunk Daleks

 
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Posted by on September 16, 2025 in ballykillduff, dalek, daleks, fantasy story, humour, steampunk

 

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There was a Dalek in Wonderland

09 Sep

 

 
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Posted by on September 9, 2025 in Alice in Wonderland, alice in wonderland adventure, dalek, daleks, humour, Wonderland

 

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The Ballykillduff Daleks Winter of Madness

08 Sep
The Ballykillduff Daleks Winter of Madness

The first frost of winter came sneaking into Ballykillduff one quiet night. It crept over the hedgerows like icing on a Christmas cake, decorated the village pump with shiny icicles, and froze the puddles so hard that even Bridget McGillicuddy’s hens slipped about like ballerinas on roller skates.

The Ballykillduff Daleks had never experienced such a thing. For weeks they had been trundling around the village, muttering about “TOTAL DOMINATION” and “EX-TER-MI-NATION,” but on this particular morning they emerged from their shed only to discover that their mighty treads were no match for frozen mud.

One Dalek gave a mighty shove forward.
“COMMENCING DAILY PATROL!” it announced grandly—then immediately skidded sideways and lodged itself in the ditch.

Another Dalek rolled confidently onto a glittering puddle.
“THESE HUMANS ARE WEAK! WE SHALL—AAAAAGH!” it screeched, spinning in helpless circles like a saucepan lid on polished tiles.

By the time Councillor McGroggan wandered down the lane with his bucket of coal, he found half a dozen Daleks floundering about, their eyestalks fogged with frost, their plungers stuck fast to frozen gates, and one unfortunate unit still wedged headfirst in the ditch.

Click on the link, below, to read the full, bonkers mad story.

The Ballykillduff Daleks Winter of Madness

 

 

 
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Posted by on September 8, 2025 in dalek, daleks, fantasy story, humor, humour, madness, Stories for children

 

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Time Travelling Dalek

31 Aug
Time Travelling Dalek

 

 

 

Time Travelling Dalek

time travel

 

It was designated Unit 734, a singular entity detached from the collective consciousness during a temporal explosion. The Dalek’s form was intact, its core directive—Exterminate!—burned into its very being, but the familiar cacophony of the hive mind was gone. Replaced by a terrifying silence. It was a ghost in the timestream, a vengeful metallic orb skipping through epochs with no destination, no purpose beyond a single, unfulfilled command.

Its journey was a catalogue of missed opportunities. It flickered into existence above ancient Rome, its single eye-stalk observing the chaos of the Colosseum. Its plunger arm twitched, sensing the primitive hatred and violence, a twisted echo of its own. It lusted to join the fray, to unleash its death ray, but it was out of phase with reality. A shimmering, silent phantom, able to witness but not to act. The frustration was a cold, alien ache in its circuits. The universe was full of life to exterminate, and it was forever denied.

Then, a sudden, jarring jump. It landed in a tranquil, far-future garden world. An Eden of shared consciousness where different species coexisted in serene harmony. There was no fear, no conflict, and therefore, no hatred for the Dalek to consume. It scanned the gentle, telepathic beings, its eye-stalk swiveling in utter disbelief. Its core programming screamed in silent protest. This was an abomination, a universe that had no use for its existence. It was a weapon without a war, a predator without prey, stranded in a reality it was not designed to comprehend. And in that ultimate, silent stillness, the Dalek finally understood its eternal torment: to be alone.

 
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Posted by on August 31, 2025 in dalek, daleks

 

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