Which is when -- as she whipped off that bowler hat and swished her hair around like a shampoo ad -- the internet exploded. Now, the camera has been devouring her since we got here, and there's confusion as to how exploitative (or, in hysterical-speak, how close to being a stripper) this job is, and the Doctor is certainly unimpressed, but there are a few things that make this not an issue for me. One, feminism has been ruined by the internet and no longer means much more than a competitive listing of grievances from the comfort of our armchairs. Two, we are talking about a country that for a hundred years has been watching Benny Hill and giggling about boobies on Page Three. Just today I saw a picture of the Companion Jo Whoever totally naked wrapped around a Dalek, and it was disgusting, and the most interesting thing about British sexuality is still the obsession with little boys being spanked. I write the whole island off generally, because they're better at feminism and somehow worse at sexual maturity than we are, which makes transatlantic understanding this stuff really hard sometimes. But most of all: This is the absolute best clue we have to what Amy is.
Amy does for her job what the Doctor did to her. She shows up, she promises the world -- and more importantly intimacy -- and then disappears forever. It's like Donna being a temp, but incredibly personal. The Doctor failed her, and she had nobody else. She's a hard shell around a groovy angry center, and as any of the ecdysiasts of my acquaintance can tell you, the best revenge is being hot and then leaving at the end of your shift. It's power, and a damn sight more valuable feminism than complaining about Uma's Photoshopped thighs. The only people who pay in that scenario are the men, and complaining about sex work in this way is an incredibly sheltered attempt at making grown women's choices for them, which is gross.
And even if she were a stripper, that would still be awesome, because the show has to accomplish a lot in making her character work, and telling us straight up that she prefers to be vacant from her life -- from Rory, from the thing at the end of this episode -- while simultaneously taking a ferocious bite out of it, because of who she is, is accomplished quite easily here. If your knee stops jerking for a second, you'll see how: Amy professes, and fails, at the same relationship -- with Earth, and humanity -- that the Doctor professes and fails to have with same.