Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I don't wish to impose on you, but I must ask you.
I can see you. I can see you... Come.
All these huge and wonderful notions. I'm inspired. I must write about them.
I don't know. Must have been the Doctor.
A connection with another place. That's the cause of ghost stories.
- It's not 1860, it's 1869. - I don't care.
It's all true.
- You've cheered up. - Exceedingly.
I like a nice smile. Good smile. Nice bum.
- Like foreigners? - Pretty foreign, yeah. From up there.
- What are we going to do with her? - I don't know.
Failing. Atmosphere hostile.
- I'm not leaving her! - They're too strong.
- That's her. - Please let me out!
I did try, but Gwyneth was already dead.
What about Mr Redpath? Did you deal with him?
Just believe it. I have faith in you, Gwyneth.
That's awful, sir.
I wouldn't dare.
I'll take you somewhere else after. Somewhere you can build bodies.
Now... look inside, girl. Look deep.
- I don't think so, miss. - Gwyneth, you can tell me.
Maybe I am. Maybe that's a good thing.
Who exactly is in that hearse?
Oh, my dear... How modern.
Listen to your master. This has gone far enough.
Metal birds with people in them. People are flying.
Doctor! Doctor! Turn off the flame, turn up the gas!
Something terrible is happening here and we need to get help.
But you've been thinking about him lately.
Here we go. History.
We need bodies.
Say I'm not in. Just get rid of them.
Even for you, Doctor.
- Shall I get rid of him, sir? - No. He can stay.
- Hold that one down. - I am!
I shall be so blessed.
She's lost, sir.