Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

and takeaway dinners, all birthdays and Christmases,

Well, you're too late. Ha!

Listen, listen, listen, listen.

All that for only five additional credits.

Worse than that, sir, there's more of them going rabid.

- Oh, no, no, no, we're not married. -We're so not married.

I don't want any of them wandering off and seeing this.

Can't you hear it? The singing.

So busy I couldn't save them. I had to let the Ood die.

What's the Earth like now?

I've got this one.

Well, do something. You're the one with all the tricks.

- Oh, nice one. -Thank you.

Oh, no, you don't.

What's causing it? Why now?

- Those pylons. -In a circle.

There, beyond the red section.

- Couldn't be better, eh? -You've been shot.

Ood Sigma, have you seen this before?

"Rough Guide to the Ood Sphere"? Works for me.

Doctor! Doctor!

Sales speakers needed by 1900, sir.

Now, get to the point. How many dead?

If you're gonna stand in their way, I'll shoot you, too.

That... I said military figures. That's the domestic file.

- It's nothing to do with me. -Oh, what, 'cause you don't ask?

What is that stuff?

Ladies and gentlemen, all Ood to hospitality stations, please.

That's just what I need, a PR woman.

Doctor! There's a door!

- My name's Donna. -No, no, no, no. You don't need to.

Across three galaxies? Don't the Ood get a say in this?

Well, say hello to Daddy.

Couldn't hear anything.

Friends of the Ood, sir.

I do not understand the concept.