The Doctor: Lucky, my dear, that they aren't around to hear you say that. Hm, gracious me, if you think they're old, what do you think of me?
The Doctor: Now, my boy, there are two things you can do. One: Sit there until you get your breath back, and two: Don't call me Doc! Now do I make myself clear?
The Doctor: That is the dematerializing control. And that, over yonder, is the horizontal hold. Up there is the scanner, those are the doors, that is a chair with a panda on it. Sheer poetry, dear boy! Now please stop bothering me.
The Doctor: What do you think of that, now, eh? A Viking helmet.
Steven Taylor: Maybe.
The Doctor: What do you mean, "maybe"? What do you think it is, a space helmet for a cow?
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