Indeed

Indeed, You are Powerful

As The Emperor has foreseen

Mary Poppins paused for a moment to glance at her reflection in the hall mirror. 

“Oh, do come on, Mary Poppins! You look all right,” said Michael impatiently. 

She wheeled about. Her expression was angry, outraged and astonished all at once. 

All right, indeed! That was hardly the word. 

All right, in her blue jacket with the silver buttons! 

All right with her gold locket round her neck! 

All right with the parrot-headed umbrella under her arm! 

Mary Poppins sniffed. 

“That will be enough from you – and more!” she said shortly. 

Though what she meant was that it wasn’t nearly sufficient.

(Romana has let her hair down and is brushing it.) 

ROMANA: 
You're sulking. 

DOCTOR: 
I'm not sulking. 

ROMANA: 
That's ridiculous for somebody as old as you are. 

DOCTOR: 
I'm not old. What? 

ROMANA: 
Seven hundred and fifty nine? 

DOCTOR: 
Seven hundred and fifty six. That's not old, that's just mature. 

ROMANA: 
You've lost count somewhere. 





DOCTOR: 
Well, I ought to know my own age. 

ROMANA: 
Yes, but after the first few centuries, I expect things get a little bit foggy, don't they. 

DOCTOR: 
Now, listen. It's no good, this isn't going to work. 

ROMANA: 
Doctor, you're not giving me a chance. 
It's funny, you know, but before I met you, I was even willing to be impressed. 

DOCTOR: 
Indeed. 

ROMANA: 
Oh yes. Of course, now I realise that your behaviour simply derives from a subtransitory experiential hypertoid induced condition, aggravated, I expect, by multi-encephalogical tensions. 

DOCTOR: 
What's that supposed to mean? 


ROMANA: 
Well, to put it very simply, Doctor, you're suffering from a 
massive compensation syndrome. 

DOCTOR: 
Is that the sort of rubbish they're pouring into your head at the Academy? 

ROMANA: 
Do you know, I might even use your case in my thesis when I'm back on Gallifrey. 

DOCTOR: 
I'll show you whether I'm suffering from a massive compensation syndrome. And you're not going back to Gallifrey, not for a long time yet, I regret to say. Read out those coordinates again.

ROMANA: 
Forty nine four zero, vector's unchanged. 

DOCTOR: 
Same as before. Distance? 

ROMANA: One hundred and sixteen parsecs. 

DOCTOR: 
One hundred and sixteen parsecs. 
Must be the planet of Ribos. 
If it changes again while we're in the vortex, we could lose it. 

On the other hand -

ROMANA: 
Oh, take a chance. 

DOCTOR: 
I'll make the decisions here! 

ROMANA: 
Well, what shall we do? 

DOCTOR: 
We'll take a chance.