They were closing in all around. They were coming nearer and nearer every time the lights blinked out.
He and Martha were backed into a corner. Their eyes, open and staring, not wanting to give the weeping angels any more opportunities than they already had.
The lights flickered for an instant and he heard Martha whimper from right behind him. The lights came back on and suddenly they were closer still, looming in front of them, some perversions of nature and art. How could he fight these, these monsters? They were terrifying. How could you fight something that turned to stone the moment you saw them?
The whimpering came again, stronger than before, and with it came a sharp pain on his arm as Martha grabbed hold and clung to him with a vice-like grip.
There was only one thing for it…
The Doctor turned away from them, secure in the knowledge that while the lights were on, Martha's petrified stare would keep them at bay. As he turned back to them, he carried in his arms a large metal pole from the corner of the room.
"Take that concrete scum!"
And the Doctor proceeded to smash those damned weeping angels to rubble and dust, Martha cheering and hero-worshipping in the background!