Enough of doctors. It’s Time for The Dentist.


The satirical space adventure fantasia,
with plenty of food, drink and music 

The editors of The Time of the Chinese Dentist sequence decided after much deliberation to open the definitive account of this catastrophic chapter for mankind with two volumes that focus on the events that led up to and, in some sense, created the Time.
They decided to create a straightforward and above all cohesive account of the abduction of the city of Derby and the revelation of the Equinox project, based on the most reliable accounts in the New Derby Library, striving above all for accuracy, and one clear narrative without annotations. Where the editors could not verify the truth of the account, they were most judicious about what they included.



On that storm tossed June afternoon in the East Midlands city of Derby, special agent El Capitano had been struggling with his torment. Seven hours of playing Bingo Apocalypse: Win or Die on his iPad had yielded nothing but a haunting sense that he had deeply betrayed most decent values in the course of his life as an assassin and mercenary.

He was missing his boyfriend Kendrick with an animal passion that bordered on the Jurassic complete with exploding volcanoes. Both had latterly earned a degree of respectability as agents with the Earth Defence Force. He had met the rock-headed brute on one of its missions and both had become less ruthless under its influence and that of each other.

El Capitano decided to go out. The tornado alert meant nothing to him. He dressed in one of his smarter Strand suits and took the lift down from his 26th floor penthouse flat and nodded brusquely at the Turkish concierge as he headed through the main lobby with its cascading fountains. He then turned back, resolving to live a better, more humane life, and handed the concierge a £20 tip. After all the woman kept her eye out for him, and had given him early warning of not a few assassination attempts.

Michelin starred restaurants were in somewhat short supply in Derby but El Capitano found one of them, Maxim’s, reasonably satisfactory. He took a cab there for lunch. The truffles were really quite good and the three bird Savoy roast exceptional, he had to admit.

As he ate, he reflected on how tired he was of guns and killing. Even when he tried to relax with the television he found every single channel showing nothing but blazing gunfire. It had to stop on his part, at least.

Given that resolve he felt it was unfortunate that while walking home he had to destroy the eccentric Shouty Dog Man because he was irritating.

Once back at his flat, El Capitano fiddled with his phone, hoping for a message from Kendrick. He lit a cigar and sombrely surfed the channels on his TV wall. Once again nothing but guns and slaughter on every channel.

He phoned his sister Barbarita, who was senior to him in the EDF. Perhaps she would have an assignment for him. There was no answer.

El Capitano hit the remote that closed his electric blinds and activated his Tibetan fountain. He dozed off, calmed by its gentle splashing sound, as it grew dark outside.

The phone woke him. An assignment from CONTROL. He smirked as he learnt that the job was but a few doors down from his apartment. The destruction of the FNK Tower, the heart of the business empire operated by the billionaire Roger Jones.

El Capitano leapt into his power shower and minutes later, clad in tight fitting elasto battle armour and battle helmet, was climbing with his suction pads up the sheer face of the enormous FNK Tower.

He has been commanded to plant the explosives on the 92nd floor. Cutting through a window with his laser tools was simple enough, and exiting once he had planted the explosives likewise. He hurled himself at the hole in the glass he had made and was seconds later sailing by power parachute through the night air, landing on the top of a block opposite. He stood on the edge of the roof and watched the explosion and subsequent inferno ripping through the FNK Tower.

It was as he smoked a cigar on his high perch, his feet on the very edge of the city block, 40 stories high, that his Panther-like senses became convulsed by a sensation that the very fabric of the universe was being torn apart, accompanied by the screams of a terrified and wounded alien who had fallen through the rupture.


Amazon verified reviews of Volume 1

“Very well written. Great start for a promising new author”

“A cleverly written satirical take on life, human nature and the universe. Some of the most colourful characters I’ve ever read”

“A maddening, ambitious romp. Reads like a fevered dream combination of Douglas Adams and Robert Anton Wilson. There is much fun to be had here.”


Christopher Davies is a business journalist. By which he means he is chief sub-editor of The Grocer magazine. By which he means he corrects spelling mistakes for a living. Mostly. He has also worked for The Times and The Sunday Times on a casual basis (particularly the dress). He is 56 years old, but looks many, many days younger.

Born and brought up in Plymouth, Christopher went to Reading University where he went on to acquire a PhD in comic theory in medieval Italian comic epic (specifically the Orlando Innamorato by Matteo Maria Boiardo). Seven years of work resulted in a fabulous dinner party conversation stopper.

Dr Davies has twice in his life suffered serious blows to his head, but it was not after one of these incidents that he developed a passion to create a fantasy novel sequence that would be truly original by flying in the face of all current commercial success factors. But then, who wants money anyway?

And so The Time of the Chinese Dentist was born – a passionate space-time adventure romp with an occasional philosophical profundity. “Surely it would be possible to create”, thought Christopher, “a great story where there were no killings, no monsters in corridors, no sex scenes, no rumpled-browed aliens, nothing being blown up, no Dark Lords, in fact ­- no baddies or twisted evil geniuses at all.”

Furthermore, several of the characters would be real people, inserted into the narrative’s context as fictional characters but behaving truthfully as they would in real life. And that context would feature considerable quantities of neorealism, shoulder by shoulder with the more fantastic stuff.

And finally, the adventure would end in failure, not success; yet it would be a failure full of promise and new beginnings. Much like life, in fact.

When pressed, Christopher admits his only concessions to copying his influences are a frank homage to Thunderbirds here and there; and he did think that after 50 years of The Doctor it was high time for The Dentist. Why not? But like his heroine Amelia Santacruz, Dr Davies deplores being derivative.

Christopher lives with his beloved partner Ian (the real El Capitano) near the sea in Littlehampton. He also has seven children and two granddchildren. He will explain that one later.