This week, The Doctor returned to their secret headquarters in the Fletcher Jones Silver Ball to find The Colonel waiting with a pile of envelopes.

"Here's your mail," The Colonel said, handing the letters to The Doctor.

"These are already opened!" The Doctor exclaimed. "Have you been going through my mail?"

"Of course," The Colonel replied. "For the benefit of our organisation and the people of the south-west, we need to be open and transparent. There will be no more secrets and no more closed-door operations. In aid of our new policy, I've removed the door to your bedroom. And the toilet."

The Doctor groaned. "Colonel, there's a time and a place for confidentiality and privacy. Sometimes it's necessary."

"I don't think so, Doctor. I'm sure the people of the south-west would be very interested to know about your magazine subscription to Sexy Mature Fatties. The citizens have a right to be told they should be offended by such filth."

"This new policy is stupid, Colonel - it's even worse than your policy to combat global warming by having everyone open their fridge at the same time."

"Doctor, don't cause a rift," The Colonel said.

"Having an opinion that differs from yours, Colonel, is not a rift. It's democracy and freedom of speech."

"Rubbish," The Colonel said. "You're either with me or your against me. You're either in the Coalition Of The Willing or you're a terrorist. You're either fighting for truth, justice and The Colonel's way or you're in the Axis Of Evil with Iraq, North Korea and Allansford. Now stop being a distraction and agree with me."

The Doctor sighed. "Colonel, all this unnecessary personal squabbling just gets in the way of our real mission."

"To make it snow for Christmas in Warrnambool?"

The Doctor frowned. "No, Colonel - to protect and serve the people of the south-west."

After a moment's pause, The Colonel nodded in agreeance. "You're right, Doctor. So just hand over the Weapons of Mass Destruction and we'll call it even."