Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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