DREAM LORD: You can't fool me. I've seen your dreams. Some of them twice. Amy. Blimey, I'd blush if I had a blood supply-- or a real face.

DOCTOR: Where did you pick up this cheap cabaret act?

DREAM LORD: Me? Oh, you're on shaky ground.

DOCTOR: Am I?

DREAM LORD: If you had any more tawdry quirks you could open up a Tawdry Quirk Shop. The madcap vehicle, the cockamamie hair, the clothes designed by a first-year fashion student. I'm surprised you haven't got a little purple space dog just to ram home what an intergalactic wag you are.

(Amy waddles out.)

DOCTOR: Oh, way-hey! You've swallowed a planet.

AMY: I'm pregnant.

DOCTOR: You're huge.

AMY: Yeah, I'm pregnant.

DOCTOR: Look at you. When worlds collide.

AMY: Doctor, I'm pregnant.

DOCTOR: Oh, look at you both. Five years later and you haven't changed a bit, apart from age and size.

AMY: Oh, it's good to see you, Doctor.

DOCTOR: Are you pregnant?