"No! This is my best chance ever! The last of the Daleks! I can rid the Universe of you, once and for all!" The Daleks talk him through it -- "fucking dare you," essentially -- and he pisses and moans and whines and barks and rolls over and plays dead and screams, and he's all, "If I let you go, you'll be stronger than ever. A new race of Daleks!" Forever, this happens, with the choice being explained and then reiterated once again, over and over: "Then choose, Doctor! Destroy the Daleks or save the Earth. Begin countdown of Oblivion Continuum! Choose, Doctor! Choose! Choose!" That's literally what they say.

The Doctor tells Danny Boy to withdraw, and lets them go. If you don't get it, here's some more fuckin' help: "The Doctor has failed! His compassion is his greatest weakness!" Whatever, we get it. And you can't even say that this part is for kids, because what's actually being discussed in these retarded terms is still too complicated, no matter how stupidly you say it, for those children you hate so much to really even grasp. Point being, finally and boringly: The Daleks have won. Victory of the Daleks. Gotcha. Made up circumstance with literally a million backdoors and possibilities, shoehorned by a hundred underutilized concepts and set-pieces and merchandising opportunities into resolving down to one issue, which could easily have been avoided, and now cornholes us into one of the stupidest fucking things I've ever seen, because at this point it really is the only choice left, given the story logic we've got so far.

"Professor. You're a bomb! An inconceivably massive Dalek bomb." He doesn't get it. "There's an Oblivion Continuum inside you!" Cue the bleeding multiverse and wormholes, et cetera. The Dalek take off, triumphant, as we discuss this. They check out the bomb inside him and talk at length about how he is the bomb and the bomb is him, so there's no disconnecting him, and Amy stupidly goes, "There's a blue wire or something you have to cut, isn't there? There's always a blue wire. Or a red one." Thanks for fucking helping, Amy. She complains about how he talked on and on about the War and all his memories and whatever, and the Doctor sort of explains: "Someone else's stolen thoughts, implanted in a positronic brain!"

Solution: Remember this other dead dude's life. Remember it so fucking hard that he stops being a bomb detonated by remote. He talks a bunch of random details about the real Bracewell's life, post offices and abbeys and ash trees of various number, and it goes for awhile, but like: His chest is a brassy steampunk breastplate with a huge counter on it, slowly counting down. Nobody ever noticed, until today, when the Doctor ripped open his shirt. Just didn't think about it, I guess. How did he feel, you may be asking yourself, when his parents died? I know I was wondering that. Well, I'll tell you: It hurt. This other person, man, it hurt him so much! When somebody's parents died that time.