You know when sometimes you meet someone so beautiful and then you actually talk to them, and five minutes later they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, you meet them and think: “Not bad, they’re OK”. Then you get to know them… and their face just sort of becomes them. Like their personality’s written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful.

Look. Wooden chicken. Cup, saucers, plates, knives, forks. Fruit. Chicken’s wood. So. We’re either inside the doll’s house or this is a refuge for dirty posh people who eat wooden food. Or termites. Giant termites trying to get on the property ladder. No, That’s possible. Is that possible?

You see these eyes? They’re old eyes… and one thing I can tell you, Alex: Monsters are real.

When I was your age — about, ooh, a thousand years ago — I loved a good bedtime story. The Three Little Sontarans. The Emperor Dalek’s New Clothes. Snow White and the Seven Keys to Doomsday, eh? All the classics.

Pantophobia. Not fear of pants, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s the fear of everything. Including pants, I suppose, in that case.

It was never going to be a gun for you, Doctor. The man of peace who understands every kind of warfare, except the cruelest.