It went something like this. Well, give or take a little artistic paraphrasing on my part, hem hem:
The TARDIS arrives in some fake snow. The TENTH DOCTOR steps out.
Tell me, scenic street urchin, is this the set of a new BBC costume drama, or am I trapped in a tin of Quality Street?
It's 1851, innit. Hey, wotchu doing 'ere, guv'nor? I thought you woz leavin' the show? It said so in The Sun and everyfing!
Not until next year, idiot. Didn't you read the press release properly?
Donna, is that you??
It's not Donna, it's a girl in a corset called ROSITA. (Funny name for a corset, boom boom.)
Doctor!!! I am being shrill in a Cockney accent and I have my bosoms pushed up to my ears!
Well, I like at least one of those things, so I think we're going to get along famously.
Beat it, loser. Ah, here comes my man!
Yes, 'tis I! I am doing lots of SHOUTING and sound like a cross between Russ Abbot and Lord Flashheart!
You're not going to do that for the whole of the Christmas episode, are you?
I shall if I want to! Firstly because I'm the Doctor, and secondly because ham is traditional at Christmas!
Are you going to be this bombastic when we have sex?
Oh, don't play coy with me, big boy. Phallic symbols at the ready? Allons-y!
Rosita buys popcorn and watches with interest.
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