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DALEKS IN BALLYKILLDUFF: THE FUTURE SHOCK

A six-episode serial (classic length, dialogue-forward, each part ending on a peril).

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EPISODE ONE — Boing! Into Tomorrow

INT. DALEK SAUCER – ENGINE BAY – NIGHT (NOWISH)
Commander ZOG glares at a chrome panel labelled TEMPORAL RELOCATION CIRCUIT.

ZOG: WE SHALL TIME-SCOUT THE FUTURE OF OUR GLORIOUS RULE.
THOG (peering): THE MANUAL SAYS “DO NOT PLUG INTO KETTLE.”
ZOG: MANUALS ARE FOR THE INFERIOR.

Click. Whine. KETTLE SOCKET glows. The ship lurches—
SFX: BOING, a smell of burnt toast, and a shower of teabags.

EXT. SKIES ABOVE IRELAND – DAY (2125)
The saucer drifts over… a skyline of teapot-shaped towers, hover-tractors cross-ploughing the clouds, and a maglev lane marked BALLYKILLDUFF CITY LIMIT 1 LY THAT WAY.

ZOG (stunned): THIS IS NOT A COW.
POG: SENSORS DETECT… FESTIVE BUNTING.

They descend to the Future Village Square, where a bronze statue dominates: a DALEK in a bishop’s mitre holding a bingo card. Plinth text: “BISHOP BINGO—OUR BENEFACTOR.”

ZOG: BLASPHEMY! I DO NOT WEAR HATS.

A parade rounds the corner—children on jet-hurleys, drones playing fiddles, banners: WELCOME BACK, HOLY DALEKS! A teenager crowns ZOG with paper flowers.

TEEN: You’re just in time to bless the flying sheep!
ZOG: I DO NOT BLESS— I—

The crown magnet-snaps onto his dome. His exterminator sparks, fizzles.

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: Zog’s weapon dies as the crowd surges, chanting “BISHOP! BISHOP!”

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EPISODE TWO — Bishop Bingo Day

EXT. FUTURE FAIRGROUNDS – DAY
Stalls line a park: Quantum Jam, Hover-Sheep Shearing, Interstellar Céilí. The Daleks are frog-marched to a dais.

MARSHAL DRONE: By order of the Parish AI, An Púca Grid, honoured guests must judge The Great Ballykillduff Future Fair.
ZOG: WE OBJECT.
MARSHAL: Objections processed. You win a sash.

A sash reading “JUDGEY-WUDGEY” is slung across Zog’s neck grill.

Quick-fire montage:

• THOG wins Best Jam by accidentally vaporising strawberries into perfect caramel.
• POG becomes céilí metronome—his wheel rhythm is irresistible.
• ZOG judges the dog show. A three-headed robo-collie licks his plunger. He shutters.

ZOG (quavering): THIS IS EMOTIONAL ATTACK.

INT. HALL OF LOCAL HISTORY – LATER
Holograms flicker: images of ZONK THE FRIENDLY DALEK, founded the city, brought cheap broadband, unified bingo.

ZOG: IDENTIFY THIS ZONK.
CURATOR BOT: Founder, saint, mayor, occasional traffic warden. He came from—
—A panel irises open; a vault slides up, revealing a humming ARCHIVE CORE labelled ZONK PRIME.

The Core’s eye lights.

ZONK PRIME (warm, Daleky): Hello, pilgrims.

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: The founder is a Dalek—and he’s awake.

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EPISODE THREE — The Legend of Zonk

INT. ARCHIVE CORE – CONTINUOUS
ZONK PRIME projects memory-scenes into the air: rustic lanes, a Dalek in a paper crown, Hacketstown, raffles, bingo. The city literally grew from community Wi-Fi and bake sales he instituted.

ZOG: LIES.
ZONK PRIME: Truth with jam. Your kettle-socket jump entered a branch I seeded—a future where conquest got bored and joined the parish.
THOG: QUERY: CAN CONQUEST GET BORED?
ZONK PRIME: Everyone does in Ballykillduff. Even entropy.

Alarm klaxons.

AN PÚCA GRID (PA): Time-custodians inbound. Continuity Audit commencing.

EXT. SQUARE – MOMENTS LATER
Tall, faceless figures descend: the COMPTROLLERS OF CONTINUITY, all filing cabinets and robes.

LEAD COMPTROLLER: This branch diverges excessively. Prepare for pruning.
ZOG (perking up): EXCELLENT. PRUNE THESE HUMANS. RESTORE OUR EMPIRE.
ZONK PRIME (quiet): They will prune everything, including you.

The Comptrollers raise eraser-lances. A shopfront labelled MRS. MCGILLICUDDY JR. fades at the edges, becoming chalk dust on wind.

ZOG (startled): MY JUDGEY-WUDGEY SASH… IS LIGHTER.

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: The town—and the Daleks’ place in it—begin to erase.

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EPISODE FOUR — The Audit of Time

EXT. STREETS – CHAOS
Names flicker off street signs. A fiddler forgets the tune mid-note. The statue of Bishop Bingo blurs.

ZONK PRIME: Comptrollers eat what they can catalog. Fight cataloguing with chaos. With story.
ZOG: WE PREFER LASERS.
ZONK PRIME: Lasers are neat. Stories are messy.

Plan: hijack the Parish PA and flood the grid with un-indexable live nonsense—names, dances, jam recipes shouted all at once.

INT. BROADCAST HUT – MONTAGE

• POG spins the céilí beat.
• THOG emulsifies Quantum Jam to act as a signal glue.
• ZOG booms into the mic: “CITIZENS, STATE YOUR NAMES, PETS, AND FAVOURITE SCONES!”

Voices rise, overlapping, un-fileable.

LEAD COMPTROLLER (distorted): Unacceptable. Increase erasure. Begin with… Dalek lexicon.

ZOG’s dome lights sputter.

ZOG (straining): EXTER—EXTER—EX…
He can’t find the word.

POG (urgent): HOLD THE LINE, COMMANDER!

EXT. SKY – NEW THREAT
Rifts tear open. Sleek black SUPREME DALEK TIMESHELVES slide out.

SUPREME (VO): ERROR: BRANCH CORRUPT. PREPARE FOR RESTORATION OF TRUE DALEK FUTURE.

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: Two annihilators arrive—Comptrollers and Supreme Daleks. Zog can’t even remember “Exterminate.”

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EPISODE FIVE — The Céilí at the End of the World

EXT. SQUARE – NIGHT
The air hums with erasure and rising reels. Villagers and drones whirl in a frantic time-ceilí. ZOG clutches the mic, searching for himself.

CHILD (to Zog): It’s okay, Bishop. You don’t need the scary word. Use the better one.

ZOG thinks. His dome steadies.

ZOG (finding it): PROTECT.

He swings his plunger, not to destroy but to conduct. Names, jokes, recipes, pet rosters pour through the speakers. Chaos blossoms.

INT. TIMESHELF FLAGSHIP
The SUPREME DALEK bristles.

SUPREME: TREASON. DALEK AIDING ORGANIC NONSENSE. CORRECTIVE PURGE.

EXT. SQUARE – CONTINUOUS
Beams slash down—met by butter-glossed shields from THOG’s jam cannons, which refract light like stained glass.

ZONK PRIME: One more push. The Parish has a failsafe—under the statue. A thing made for parade days and emergencies.

Statue pivots. Pavement irises. BISHOP BINGO MK II rises: a joyful parade-mech in mitre and fairy lights, fitted with raffle-drum shields and bunting launchers.

ZOG (awed despite himself): THAT IS A VERY POWERFUL HAT.

BISHOP BINGO MK II trundles into battle, bunting tangling eraser-lances, raffle tickets gumming Supreme optics, raffle TOMBOLA hurling numbered balls like grapeshot.

SUPREME (furious): RESTORE THE RESTORATION!

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: Bishop Bingo slams the Supreme into the Archive Core—both machines buckle—ZONK PRIME flickers… and dies.

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EPISODE SIX — Parade of Possible Futures

Silence. The Archive’s hum goes out. For a breath, the future wobbles.

ZOG (soft): FOUNDER…
AN PÚCA GRID (fading): Parish… integrity… 42%…

Comptrollers advance to finish the pruning. Supreme timeshelves charge.

ZOG (deciding): BELAY. NEW DIRECTIVE. DEFEND BALLYKILLDUFF.

He rolls to the front, voice steady.

ZOG: THIS VILLAGE IS UNDER DALEK—PARISH—PROTECTION.
POG & THOG (together): PROTECT. PROTECT!

The time-ceilí surges; names and laughter fill the gaps Zonk Prime left. The Parish wakes on living memory alone.

BISHOP BINGO MK II’s chest opens—inside: ZONK PRIME’S CORE SEED, intact.

ZONK PRIME (hologram): I taught it to parade itself back from defeat. Go on then—dance it home.

They do. The mech spins, lights flare, the crowd chants, the jam cannons lens-flare Supreme beams back into Comptroller ledgers, printing the word “UNFILEABLE.”

Supreme flagships glitch; Comptrollers’ robes turn into bunting.

LEAD COMPTROLLER (begrudging): Statistical defeat. Filing as “Local Miracle.”
They evaporate like cancelled appointments.

SUPREME (last snarl): YOU ARE NO LONGER DALEK.
ZOG (calm): AGREED. WE ARE… BALLYKILLDUFF.

The timeshelves fold and flee.

EXT. SQUARE – DAWN
The statue returns to plinth. ZONK PRIME dims to a soft guardian light. AN PÚCA GRID stabilises.

Villagers crown ZOG with a fresh paper mitre.
CHORUS: Speech! Speech!

ZOG (into mic): STATEMENT: FUTURE BALLYKILLDUFF IS… ACCEPTABLE. NEW DOCTRINE: RETURN HOME. CHANGE THE PAST ENOUGH TO ARRIVE HERE… WITHOUT ERASURE. ALSO— BINGO EVERY THURSDAY.

Laughter, cheers, reels. The saucer’s kettle socket—now wrapped in hazard tape reading DO NOT PLUG INTO KETTLE (UNLESS IT’S FOR A VISIT)—spins up.

INT. DALEK SAUCER – LIFT-OFF
THOG (quiet): COMMANDER… THE WORD—DO YOU WANT IT BACK?
ZOG (after a beat): SOMETIMES WORDS END THINGS. I PREFER THE ONE THAT STARTS THEM.
(beat)
PROTECT.

BOING. Toast smell. Stars smear. They’re gone.

EXT. PRESENT-DAY BALLYKILLDUFF – NIGHT (NOWISH)
They reappear over fields, proper cows beneath. In the square, a small jam jar sits on the well with a note: “For the journey you will make. —Us.”

ZOG (softly): PARADOX JAM. ACCEPTABLE.

He faces his squad.

ZOG: NEW ORDERS. PRACTICE COMMUNITY OUTREACH. LEARN RAFFLE PROCEDURES. PREPARE FOR THURSDAY.

They trundle off into the night, humming a céilí beat.

THE END (UNTIL NEXT THURSDAY).