DOCTOR: We all make mistakes sometimes, don't we, K9?

K9: Negative.

DOCTOR: A meteor storm. The sky above us was dancing with lights. Purple, green and brilliant yellow! Yes!

GRACE: What?

DOCTOR: These shoes! They fit perfectly. Yes.

DOCTOR: Well, look around you. It's dark.

SAM: So? It tends to do that at night-time. You've probably been too busy saving planets and stuff to notice before.

The Doctor moved across to the arch on the far side of the room, holding his candle above his head like a tour guide.

'Here we have the spacious master bedroom,' Sam said, squeezing into the alcove behind him. She eyed the walls distastefully. 'Plenty of running water, though unfortunately no taps.'

Anyone requiring further information about cross-species translation conventions should consult Preface III of Professor Thripsted's excellent Genetic Politics Beyond the Third Zone. Ask your local library if they can order you a copy. But only if you enjoy wasting people's time.

DOCTOR: Just think of it all as some kind of phantasm, a peculiar dream you're having.

CHARLIE: That works does it?

DOCTOR: Why do you think I'm always so calm and collected?

CHARLIE: But you aren't.

DOCTOR: Here she is.

ROSE: She's an egg?

DOCTOR: Regressed to her childhood.

JACK: She's an egg?

DOCTOR: She can start again. Live her life from scratch. If we take her home, give her to a different family, tell them to bring her up properly, she might be all right!

JACK: Or she might be worse.

DOCTOR: That's her choice.

ROSE: She's an egg.

DOCTOR: She's an egg.

MARGARET: We're in Cardiff. London doesn't care. The South Wales coast could fall into the sea and they wouldn't notice. Oh. I sound like a Welshman. God help me, I've gone native.

JACK: According to intelligence, the target is the last surviving member of the Slitheen family, a criminal sect from the planet Raxacoricofallapatorious, masquerading as a human being, zipped inside a skin suit. Okay, plan of attack, we assume a basic fifty seven fifty six strategy, covering all available exits on the ground floor. Doctor, you go face to face. That'll designate Exit One, I'll cover Exit Two. Rose, you Exit Three. Mickey Smith, you take Exit Four. Have you got that?

DOCTOR: Excuse me. Who's in charge?

JACK: Sorry. Awaiting orders, sir.

DOCTOR: Right, here's the plan. (pause) Like he said. Nice plan. Anything else?

CATHY: The deaths, The number of deaths associated with this project. First of all, there was the entire team of the European Safety Inspectors.

MARGARET: But they were French! Its not my fault if Danger Explosives was only written in Welsh.

CATHY: And then there was that accident with the Cardiff Heritage Committee.

MARGARET: The electrocution of that swimming pool was put down to natural wear and tear.

CATHY: And then the architect?

MARGARET: It was raining, visibility was low. my car simply couldn't stop.

CATHY: And then just recently, Mister Cleaver, the government's nuclear adviser.

MARGARET: Slipped on an icy patch.

CATHY: He was decapitated.

MARGARET: It was a very icy patch.

MICKEY: You're working! Okay, no time to explain. we need to get inside the school. Do you have like, I don't know, a lock picking device?

K9: We are in a car.

MICKEY: Maybe a drill attachment?

K9: We are in a car.

MICKEY: Fat lot of good you are.

K9: We are in a car.

MICKEY: Wait a second. We're in a car.

KEL: Whoa, wait, wait, wait. You just removed a council axe from a council van. Put it back. No, don't, wait. Put the axe back in the van. That's my van. Give me the axe. No! Wait! No!

(Rose starts digging up the pothole.)

KEL: No! You, stop! You just took a council axe from a council van and now you're digging up a council road! I'm reporting you to the council!

(Rose finds the tiny spaceship.)

ROSE: It went for the hottest thing in the street. Your tar.

KEL: What is it?

ROSE: It's a spaceship. Not a council spaceship, I'm afraid.

TOM'S DAD: What's your game?

DOCTOR: My er. Snakes and Ladders? Quite good at squash. Reasonable. I'm being facetious, aren't I. There's no call for it.

(The TARDIS materialises in the TARDIS-sized gap between a pair of cargo containers. For once, she gets the door on the wrong side. The Doctor can't get out.)

DOCTOR: Ah.

(He turns her ninety degrees while a train whizzes along the track between the open ground and the housing estate.)

DOCTOR: Ah!

JACK: Arkan leisure crawler, first generation. Collectors' item. Don't see many of those around these days. Tosh, send a polite message saying great to see them, but could they please get the hell out of our atmosphere, they're spooking the locals.

TOSH: Done.

GWEN: Shouldn't we be apprehending it? Investigating it?

JACK: Oh, please. You interrogate an Arkan, you'll be in there for a month. And that's just the first question. They are so boring. Besides, they're mostly made of liquid. The cells would be a mess.

IANTO: Lisa, please. I brought you here to heal you, so we could be together.

LISA: Together. Yes. Transplant my brain into your body. The two of us together, fused. We'll be one complete person. Isn't that what love is?

IANTO: No.

LISA: Then we are not compatible.

IANTO: You're not Lisa.

ANNIE: You always said you didn't love me for what I looked like. Last time you said that, it was a Saturday. We were hungover. You made cheese toasties, and moaned I hadn't descaled my kettle. That night, we camped on a beach in Brittany. It got so freezing we wore our coats and shared one sleeping bag. When we woke up the next morning, a dog was pissing on our tent. Hold me, Ianto. I need you to hold me. I need you to tell me it's all right.

TOSH: What did she? Has she gone home?

JACK: I reset the coordinates.

TOSH: Where to?

JACK: To the centre of the sun. It shouldn't be hot. I mean, we sent her there at night and everything.

TOSH: You killed her.

JACK: Yes.

TOSH: I can't stand it any more. The weight of it, the depravity, the fear. It fills me up. It's in my mouth, in my hair, in my eyes. Like I'm drowning in ink. And even when I don't have the pendant on, even when there's nothing, I can't forget the things I've seen, the things I've heard. It's like a curse. Something the gods send to drive someone mad. I had hoped I'd see something, some little random act of kindness, and it made me think we were safe, there was some essential good in us. But there isn't. It's like one of the weevils. You look inside, and there's just this great yawning scream. You were right. Everything you said about us. We're frightened and we're callous.

TOSH: So, I'm shagging a woman and an alien.

MARY: Which is worse?

TOSH: Well, I know which one my parents would say.

GWEN: As you may remember, at the building site Owen said this was a woman killed by a single gunshot.

OWEN: I'd been there, like, a minute?

GWEN: Since then he's had to tweak some of his initial conclusions. The first being that this isn't, in fact, a woman, but a man.

OWEN: A young man. A very girly man.

GWEN: But still ultimately a man. Then there was the cause of death. Owen said GSW. Ah ahh. The correct answer was

OWEN: Unidentified trauma. But-

TOSH: Unidentified trauma?

GWEN: Mmm. You see it in RTAs, when something like a steering column or a post goes into a body at great velocity. But the one thing that could be ruled out was?

OWEN: Gunshot wound.

GWEN: Gunshot wound. Was there, in fact, any part of your prognosis that was right?

OWEN: I got that it was a skeleton.

GWEN: Yes, you did. Yes, you did.

OWEN: You've just passed the point of-

GWEN: Where did you train? Where did you train? Did you train? Absolutely useless.

GWEN: The leg bone's connected to the hip bone, the hip bone's connected to the something bone

OWEN: Please stop singing. Anything to stop you singing. I don't know what you're laughing at. Stop singing. Please don't sing. Please don't sing. Not listening. Omm.

GWEN: Oh, dem bones

TOSH: What's most amazing are the similarities with our own culture. But that can be horrible, because we find lots of weapons, and it just makes you think, my God, everything wages war. It's not just a trait of ours, but a trait of existence. It makes you feel so hopeless. But then there are times. We found this thing, it was about A4 size, and it had all these symbols on it. And it took me about three months to translate. It was a letter someone had written to his family, to his children, to say how much he was missing them. It just made me cry, because I thought, even across these unimaginable distances, there are fundamentals that stay exactly the same. And there's no one to talk to about this. I mean, the guys at work, they're great, but they don't see it the way I do. I could be fired just for telling you that.

(A young woman is leading a soldier through the trees.)

MARY: Nearly there. We've been right busy since you lot were billeted here. This your first time? The others been teasing you, is that it? My name's Mary. Mary, like the virgin.

(She starts unbuttoning his tunic. He slaps her, hard.)

MARY: Religious man, are you?

(He slaps her again.)

MARY: I'm not your bloody hound.

(She scratches him and runs.)

SOLDIER: Whore!

(A strange sound is coming from a pulsing light amongst the trees. The soldier is still chasing her, so Mary runs towards it. There is a flash as the soldier approaches, and he draws his flintlock pistol. He aims it at Mary, who is just standing there, smiling.)

SOLDIER: Do whores have prayers?

(He fires.)