BRIAN: What do I do? What do I do?

(The Triceratops sniffs Brian’s delicate parts.)

BRIAN: What’re you doing? What’re you doing?

DOCTOR: You don’t have any vegetable matter in your trousers, do you, Brian?

BRIAN: Only my balls.

(Rory looks mortified.)

DOCTOR: I’m sorry?!

BRIAN: Golf balls. Grassy residue.

RORY: What are you carrying those around for?

(The Triceratops licks Brian’s face.)

BRIAN: [Frightened] Urgh! Eurgh!!

DOCTOR: Oh, bless.