Taking a Dalek up the stairs

“Excuse me, Mr Murdoch,” Julie Fitzhammond shouted at me across the street. 

“Please, call me Bob,” I said. “What is it?” 

“Could you help us. We need to get a Dalek up the staircase.” 

“A Dalek?” I said. “What are you doing with a Dalek?” 

“Tommy won it in a writing competition.” 

Tommy stepped forward, a ten-year-old boy with indistinctive looks. 

“Sure,” I said. “Always happy to help.” 

Julie’s husband, John, was at the bottom of the stairs, next to a full-sized Dalek. 

“Thanks for doing this Bob,” John said. “Usually, I’d manage these things by myself, but this is too heavy for one person to get up the staircase.” 

"It is heavy,” I said, as I tried to grab a hold.  

“It’s the real thing,” said John. “Solid metal. It featured on the TV show.” 

“Wow, it must be worth something.” 

“Probably,” said John. “But I doubt he’ll ever sell it. He’s a massive fan.” 

After much struggle we managed to get the Dalek up the stairs.  After pausing to catch our breaths, we wheeled the Dalek into Tommy’s bedroom. 

“I’ll move the beanbag,” John said, it’ll fit there.” 

“How exciting,” I said to Tommy. “Your very own Dalek.” 

“Yes,” said Tommy. He was a boy of few words. 

“What was your winning story?” 

“It was about Daleks,” he said. 

“Yes,” I said, encouragingly.  

“The Daleks realised that they kept losing because as soon as the Daleks arrived on a planet, somebody tipped off the Doctor. So, they found a way of tricking themselves into millions of houses around the world.” 

“How did they do that?” I said. 

“They ran a writing competition,” Tommy said. “With the prize of a dalek for the winning story. Only it wasn’t the first prize, they sent a Dalek to every entrant, telling them they’d won. Then ran the same competition in every other country, until all the Daleks were in place and ready to take over. When they launched their attack it was too late to call the Doctor.” 

“That’s a really clever idea,” I said. “It uses the competition as the premise for the plot.” 

“Does it?” Tommy said. 

“Yes. I’m not surprised you won.  It’s a very clever plot.” 

I said my farewells and left.   

I’d walked just a few yards before Mrs Henderson called out to me. 

“Hey, Bob,” she said.  

“Hello,” I said. 

“Could you help us,” she said. We need to get a Dalek up the staircase.”