Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

♪ Give him two lips Like roses in... ♪

Well, when you're not looking.

None of this makes any sense.

Blood cells. Skin cells. Mucus.

'More, please.'

Septembrie 19, 1972

Glamis hath murdered sleep,

- What now? - Talk.

The dust conglomerates. It moulds itself into a humanoid form.

Oh! Have you brought me to a space restaurant!?

But this man... the Doctor...

Oh, come on now...

Yes. I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm sure you'll be fine.

Chopra! 474! May the Gods... Where are you?!

Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care.

Something electronic in the Morpheus process

And then, there's this.

'Please stand clear of the pod.

Every night we dive deep into that inky pool.

'or taken from the station itself -- the only footage available.'

You can't fight them, Doctor.

So, what do we do?

I just needed to find a way to get them off this station,

You can't just throw accusations like that around!

We have to go back.

'You know the one.'

Keep going, move it, move it, move it!

- OK. Really? - Yes, really.

'The Morpheus song!'

For the Gods' sake, come and get me.

What he wants is to get that thing off this ship.

'The song, please.'

But if you do watch...

Balm of hurt minds,

.. just in the corner of your eye.

♪ Bom, bom, bom, bom, bom, bom

I know someone who'd love to get Chopra

'Nagata, this is Deep-Ando! May the Gods look favourably upon you!'

It could have killed me!

May the Gods look favourably upon you.

Faulty filament. Three-day week.

This is my station.

Don't be an-gry!

We need a distraction.

But to humans -- greedy, filthy, stupid humans...

That's you, Clara.