The Supreme Leader Dalek Comes to Ballykillduff

The Supreme Leader Dalek Comes to Ballykillduff

The Supreme Leader Dalek, a towering figure in the world of intergalactic menace, was not in the best of moods. His invasion timetable was three weeks behind schedule, the human subjugation paperwork was still unsigned, and—most annoyingly—his Ballykillduff squadron had gone completely silent.

Reports suggested they were not exterminating anything. In fact, rumours trickled in that one of them had fallen in love with a dustbin, two were running a tea stall outside the GAA pitch, and another was giving accordion lessons to Mrs. O’Rafferty’s cat.

“This… IS… UNACCEPTABLE!” the Supreme Leader screeched, spinning his dome so fast that his eyestalk almost unscrewed itself. “I SHALL INVESTIGATE… PERSONALLY!”

He arrived in Ballykillduff with the full pomp and ceremony of a Dalek Supreme—golden casing polished to a blinding shine, shoulder lights flashing like disco beacons, and a megaphone attachment for maximum intimidation.

But as he trundled into the village, he was met not with fear, but with the smell of baking scones.

“Morning, your holiness or whatever,” called Paddy McFlanagan from behind a table covered in jam tarts. “Fancy a slice? Half price for evil overlords.”

The Supreme Leader Dalek’s eyestalk swiveled to his invasion force. Instead of holding prisoners, they were holding knitting needles. Instead of patrolling, they were competing in the Ballykillduff Bake-Off. One was even wearing a tea cosy as a hat.

“WHAT… IS… THE MEANING… OF THIS?!?” he boomed.

“Oh, we just thought we’d have a little fun while waiting for you,” said Zeg, still sighing over the dustbin. “Invading is all well and good, but the community spirit here is really something.”

The Supreme Leader Dalek tried to rally them. “WE ARE HERE TO CONQUER! TO EXTERMINATE! TO—”

“—to have a nice cuppa?” interrupted Mrs. O’Rafferty, handing him a mug.

There was a long, metallic silence. The Supreme Leader’s dome drooped slightly. “VERY… WELL… BUT ONLY… FOR FIVE MINUTES…” he muttered, taking a cautious sip.

Three hours later, he was still there, judging the scone competition and posing for photos with local schoolchildren.

The invasion never did happen. But the Supreme Leader Dalek left Ballykillduff with a prize-winning rhubarb tart and a vague promise to “possibly conquer” them next year, schedule permitting.