Steward comes to in a barn, where he finds himself chained on the nasty floor with the household staff, all of them, and also the lady of the house. The monks come on in just as the Steward is wigging out and making sure we know that Isobel is the lady. The monks bring with them a huge cage covered in a cloth; the Steward demands to know what's in there. Fr. Angelo stares at it like he's Katie Holmes -- "I love this werewolf; it is amazing" -- and kind of wiggles around, and finally looks at the Steward all crazy: "May God forgive me." Nothing I hate more than a wishy-washy ninja cult leader. Nothing. Have the strength of your convictions! The monks rip the tarp off, and everybody screams, and here come the credits.
Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor prances around with a CD, and Rose shows him her outfit. She asks how it is, but I wonder how okay they really are. After the spider-vomit session last week, I hesitate to ask, because we'd get the whole Katie Holmes again, but really, what she's saying is this: "Thou art turn'd to something strange, and I have lost the links that bound thy changes, here upon the ground: no more partaker of thy change." The Doctor tells Rose that her outfit is bullshit and that she'd be better in a garbage bag. He yells, as boyfriends have done for time immemorial, that she totally has to hear this one song. She rolls her eyes, and then "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick" by Ian Dury and the Blockheads blares out. I do not know what any of that means, because I turned one year old in 1979, which is when this song was #1, but I'm guessing I would pretend to like this song until we made out and you went home, because that's how punk works. Rose -- this part is embarrassing as fuck -- yells that the Doctor's a "punk" and whatever, he's "a big old punk with a bit of rockabilly thrown in!" And whatever. Maybe "punk" and "rockabilly" are like lifts and boots and whatever, but...David Tennant is about as "punk" as my thirteen-month-old, which is admittedly a lot, and his "rockabilly" quotient -- fuckin' dubious in and of itself -- amounts to: sideburns. Rose's terms are rather imprecise: what's the UK word for: "fucking hot and dorky as hell"? Because that's what I think she means, but there aren't any cognates.
The Doctor suddenly asks if Rose wants to see Ian Dury, and she's like, "In concert?" like she doesn't know what time machines do, or that they have one, and the Doctor points out that they have a time machine, and then tells her what a time machine does: "I can take you to the Battle of Trafalgar...the first anti-gravity Olympics...Caesar crossing the Rubicon...or...Ian Dury at the Top Rank, Sheffield, England, Earth, 21st November, 1979. What do you think?" See, this would suck? Except they're doing a cute dance the whole time, and they are two of the cutest people in the whole wide world. Their cuteness is right now equal to half the GNP of Japan, is how cute they are. Rose agrees, and the Doctor pulls a lever and then whacks the TARDIS console with a hammer to the beat of the music, shouting, and then Rose shouts, "Stop!," and then they both fall on the floor and laugh. "What art thou then? I cannot guess; but tho' I seem in star and flower to feel thee some diffusive power, I do not therefore love thee less: My love involves the love before; my love is vaster passion now; tho' mix'd with God and Nature thou, I seem to love thee more and more." And that's our answer: if you're still hung up on Eccleston, follow Rose's lead. Clearly I've had a delicious drink of that particular Kool-Aid, but come on: he was my first.