What Rose didn't expect was the lectures.

She'd assumed that with all the travelling and the repeated saving of the world from weird things with zips in their heads, not to mention the constant flirting with... well, everything, that he'd be a bit less...

A bit less...

A bit less of a hippy, to be honest.

"Doctor," she said, "If you're so angry about it, why don't you Ido/i something. Like, I dunno, plant some rainforests or... go back and kill whoever invented Nescafe?"

"Oh, right, that's bloody typical, that is. You all say that. Like I don't have enough to do stopping other people killing you all."

God, he was one of Those hippies.

"You see this?" He thumped the TARDIS console. "She might not work that well, and she might break down sometimes... often... but she runs on vegetable oil."

"...your spaceship runs on vegetable oil?"

"Yeah!" He was also a bit of a smug git, Rose thought to herself. Again.

"And that works does it?"

"Yeah. Well, sort of. Mostly. I had it converted."

"Riiiiight." Rose could see where this was going. "And it worked before that?"

He scowled at her. The bastard. "Yeah, but the by-products were a right bugger to get rid of."

"Couldn't you just... dump it into the sun or something?"

"God, no, Rose! I signed a petition to stop people doing that! It's alright to start with, but then everyone starts doing it and Ithen/i where would you be?"

Rose decided to cut him some slack on that one. Old people got really stuck in their ways, after all.

"By the way, where'd you get that hoodie?"

This was more like it! She could cope with the flirting. It wasn't as... hippyish.

"Marks."

The Doctor looked confused. "What, Karl?" God, she thought he was really cute when he was confused... "He didn't make clothes. Told some smashing dirty jokes though. Did I ever tell you the one about the vicar with the really big-"

"Marks and Spencers."

"OH MY GOD!" He looked horrified. "And the jeans?"

"...ASDA?" She was a bit embarrassed about that. But he if he was a proper hippy, he wouldn't hold it against her.

"When did you buy them?"

"...last month?"

The Doctor folded his arms and gave her a stern, not-very-sexy-at-all look. "They're owned by Wal-Mart, Rose."

"And... Wal-Mart are owned by, what, those Dalek things?"

"Hah! The Daleks wish they were as evil as Wal-Mart!" He stared at her shoes in an annoyingly non-sexual way. "Are those shoes Nike?"

"Nah, me mum got them down the market. The stitching gives it away."

"Are they leather?"

"...dunno? Hang about, what's that jacket made of then?"

The Doctor grinned. Smugly. "Non-toxic plastic made from renewable biomass."

"Bollocks! That's a dead cow!"

"Died of old age. I knew her personally. And I'll have you know it's considered a great honour to donate your skin in that culture!"

"That's disgusting!"

"Says Little Miss Wal-Mart!"

"Says Mr I'm-Not-Solving-Your-Problems-Unless-It-Suits-Me!"

The Doctor glowered at her for a full minute. It was only slightly sexy. Rose zipped up her hoodie in case he said her Union Jack t-shirt was a symbol of centuries of oppressive imperialism.

"Oh, sod it," said the Doctor. "We'll nip back, pick up Thatcher, and drop her on Alpha Centauri."

"Fantastic!" said Rose.

And then they done sex.

The Doctor boycotts Nestle. Ask him why!
Not with Thatcher. Cos eeeeewww.