Terror of the Autons

DOCTOR: How much are they paying you?

ROSSINI: Come, come, Doctor. Gentlemen don't discuss money.

DOCTOR: Nonsense, gentlemen never talk about anything else.

ROSSINI: (Italian) Who the heck are you? Well?

MASTER: I am usually referred to as the Master.

ROSSINI: Oh? Is that so?

MASTER: Universally.

JO: It's all right. I've dealt with it.

DOCTOR: Dealt with it? You've ruined it!

JO: But your bench was on fire.

DOCTOR: Three months delicate work and now look at it, you ham-fisted bun vendor.

JO: But this whole place might have gone up in flames.

DOCTOR: My dear young lady, steady state micro-welding always creates more smoke than fire.

JO: A translucent polyhedron, eight and a half inches in diameter.

(The Doctor grabs the file.)

DOCTOR: Well, that's the Nestene's energy unit. It should never have left this building.

JO: Apparently they wanted it for a special display. The Brigadier signed the authorisation.

DOCTOR: The Brigadier's an idiot!

“Nonsense. What you need, Doctor, as Miss Shaw herself so often remarked, is someone to pass you your test tubes and to tell you how brilliant you are. Miss Grant will fulfil that function admirably.”

“Do you know, Jo, I sometimes think that military intelligence is a contradiction in terms.”

JO: I'm your new assistant.

DOCTOR: Oh, no.

JO: The Brigadier sent me along to introduce myself, Doctor. Josephine Grant.

DOCTOR: How do you do, Miss Grant? I really don't think you're suitable.