"Doctor? Where are we?" She paused. "In fact, when are we? This doesn't look like Sixteenth Century England."

Stepping out of the TARDIS, the Doctor glanced around. "And how would you know what Sixteenth Century England looked like?"

"History books," Rose retorted, grinning as he rolled his eyes. "You're so useless!"

"Oi, it's not my fault, alright?"

"Well whose is it!"

"Not mine!"

"It's the TARDIS's fault then."

"What!"

"Like you said, it's not your fault. So it must be the TARDIS."

"My ship -"

"- has a rubbish driver or is rubbish all by herself?"

He frowned. "No, my ship is one of the best. If not THE best -"

Rose smirked. "So it's just the driver, right?"