definitely not sonic
Sweat ran down his brow. Oil trickled over his fingers.
"You're getting it all over your jacket," Rose pointed out.
"It's leather," the Doctor stated dismissively, "it can take it." He thrust himself into the bowels of the TARDIS. "Hammer," he instructed.
Rose passed him the wooden mallet.
"Sonic screwdriver."
She passed him the small metal cylinder.
"Screwdriver."
"Which one?"
"Oh, come on -- half fill the glass with ice, add vodka, then orange juice --"
"Doctor!" Rose exclaimed. "You can't go fixing the ship drunk."
"It's not for me. Sometimes the old girl needs a bit of bribery."