FITZ: Do you know? Knocking around with you is absolutely no different from hanging around with the Doctor.

IRIS: Well, we both have fantastic adventures. But he's a bit of a wuss, compared to me.

FITZ: You know, Iris. When I said being with you was the same as being with the Doctor, I was wrong.

IRIS: Oh yes, dear?

FITZ: Being with you is like being in a sodding B movie.

COMPASSION: Doctor, you're babbling at me.

DOCTOR: I am?

COMPASSION: It happens when you get nervous or overexcited. It's very distracting.

DOCTOR: Babbling? No one else has ever complained.

I remember being in San Francisco and it was New Year. I kissed a woman in a park. She was dressed in some satiny stuff and the trees were strung with fairy lights. I kissed her. Quite impulsive for me, jamming my face right into hers, feeling her relax into me. I hardly knew the woman.

I kissed her because she'd just given me back part of my memory. She had restored it to me with just an inadvertent word. I wonder if I could somehow find her again and she could tell me more?

Grace, Grace, Grace, she was called.

Then she nudged the rumpled Fitz fully awake with the toe of her stacked-heeled boot.

'Get up, Fitz We've been left on the Planet of the bloody Apes.'

Fitz groaned and feigned losing consciousness again. She took his arm and heaved him up onto his shaking legs.

'Let me die,' he groaned. 'Just let me die.'

What was madness, anyway, and who was Fitz to make definitions? She had some idea that there was a history of mental illness, as the humans called it, in Fit's past, but Compassion had never cared enough to bother finding out the details. She doubted anything about Fitz could be too interesting. He came from a culture that had only just discovered television, so how smart could he be?