![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fridgepunk
The Image of a Norton is the Norton itself.
They've teleported up? jumped... oh shee-it Moffat, no one is supposed to THINK about how the gravity systems work in this sort of thing/on that sort of thing, but DAAAAAYAM that's a good trick.
Ah, a truly cunning plan.
So they're in a tube at right angles to the floor, they need to turn the lights off to get further into the ship as Angels vogue in their general direction and Song absolutely trusts the doctor (who may or may not be a mad man).
Nothing strobes quite like gun fire in a darkened room full of angels.
how do angels move if they can see each other? Sex must be akin to that of a hedgehog (buggery would be easier of course, missionary would be a lot harder, though ironically Angel romance novels never describe ANYTHING as "rock hard").
"they need to breath." Y HALO THAR [nothing comes of this]
"We have no need for comfy chairs."
Oooo, and in a single instant moffat breaks the oh so boring familiar pattern of the mytharc/word/object that RTD set up. RTD is dead, MoffatTiem is NOW.
the Screwdriver has a thingie nozzle.
"You're right; if we lie to her she'll get better." I love how Moffat approaches elevenses' concept of gaining trust with someone - HE WILL NOT LIE TO YOU, even when you might want him to. (a subtle throw back to the first creepy speech he gave Amy)
He called her "Amelia", aww.
Poke her in the eyes! Or you can convince her to close her eyes. That's also good.
Amy can move! She just can't see!
EVERYONE IS MARRIED AND SHALL ORGY.
WHY CAN'T YOU PROTECT HER WHILE YOU'RE ON THE MOVE!
The stormcage, where you go if you assault the weather.
Don't go towards the light! you nitwit.
CLOSE YOUR EYES FOOL.
Ah, Amy is a single unalterable moment in time, and RTD is being undone on so many levels of meta right now.
We need a sonic chisel not a screw driver.
"I'll keep communicating with you the whole time, that way it will be suitably horrific for the watching children."
One quick twweedle on that elbow and there'd be no trouble. if he'd just looked at a chisel one day and thought "this needs to be more sonic."
That wasn't a communication error, he just got hit on by a slutty victorian cyberman (who had to turn tricks in london's eastend to make ends meet after the whole GIANT POO STAINED ROBOT debacle) as he wandered into RTD's giant plot hole. All the soldiers are getting Cyberblowjobs now. ("Fellate! Fellate! Fellate!")
Cyberblowjobs RETROACTIVELY-FOREVER-AND-EVER-WAS.
Angels have piss poor hearing apparently.
Have we just wandered into Knightmare? [Knightmare was an old kids TV show on the BBC - a bunch of kids would control another kid who had a giant helmet with horns on their head and which obscured their vision and so would need to be guided through an elaborate fantasy dungeon that they couldn't see due to the helmet and the other kids could - google it, it was kinda weirdly awesome]
If she gets eaten now I'm saying "ooo... nasty." [the host Knightmare said this everytime a child died, which was a quite frequent occurence.]
"Get a grip Songof amy." FEMSLASH COUNT: 2
Ah, magic time travel mojo, like from Dalek and the Army of Ghosts.
Okay, that was a justifiable bit of foreshadowing from a character it made sense to come from. UNLIKE IN THE FIRST EPISODE.
And how lateses are we?
Quite lateses yes?
Very lateses yes?
And no one remembers her yeseses?
LiveBlogging interrrupted by a CONSTANT STREAM OF WUT!? WUTWUT!? WUT!? WUT!?
I WAS JOKING WITH THE WHOLE "EVERYONE SHALL BE MARRIED AND ORGY!" BIT! NONE OF THAT! WUT!?
LOL, but WUT!? WUT!?
WUT!?
So he wasn't Lateses, everyone remembers her, and WUT!?
He's no fucking mickey. WHY COULDN'T MOFFAT HAVE BEEN THE WRITER FOR SEASON THREE FFS!?
Wut?
They've teleported up? jumped... oh shee-it Moffat, no one is supposed to THINK about how the gravity systems work in this sort of thing/on that sort of thing, but DAAAAAYAM that's a good trick.
Ah, a truly cunning plan.
So they're in a tube at right angles to the floor, they need to turn the lights off to get further into the ship as Angels vogue in their general direction and Song absolutely trusts the doctor (who may or may not be a mad man).
Nothing strobes quite like gun fire in a darkened room full of angels.
how do angels move if they can see each other? Sex must be akin to that of a hedgehog (buggery would be easier of course, missionary would be a lot harder, though ironically Angel romance novels never describe ANYTHING as "rock hard").
"they need to breath." Y HALO THAR [nothing comes of this]
"We have no need for comfy chairs."
Oooo, and in a single instant moffat breaks the oh so boring familiar pattern of the mytharc/word/object that RTD set up. RTD is dead, MoffatTiem is NOW.
the Screwdriver has a thingie nozzle.
"You're right; if we lie to her she'll get better." I love how Moffat approaches elevenses' concept of gaining trust with someone - HE WILL NOT LIE TO YOU, even when you might want him to. (a subtle throw back to the first creepy speech he gave Amy)
He called her "Amelia", aww.
Poke her in the eyes! Or you can convince her to close her eyes. That's also good.
Amy can move! She just can't see!
EVERYONE IS MARRIED AND SHALL ORGY.
WHY CAN'T YOU PROTECT HER WHILE YOU'RE ON THE MOVE!
The stormcage, where you go if you assault the weather.
Don't go towards the light! you nitwit.
CLOSE YOUR EYES FOOL.
Ah, Amy is a single unalterable moment in time, and RTD is being undone on so many levels of meta right now.
We need a sonic chisel not a screw driver.
"I'll keep communicating with you the whole time, that way it will be suitably horrific for the watching children."
One quick twweedle on that elbow and there'd be no trouble. if he'd just looked at a chisel one day and thought "this needs to be more sonic."
That wasn't a communication error, he just got hit on by a slutty victorian cyberman (who had to turn tricks in london's eastend to make ends meet after the whole GIANT POO STAINED ROBOT debacle) as he wandered into RTD's giant plot hole. All the soldiers are getting Cyberblowjobs now. ("Fellate! Fellate! Fellate!")
Cyberblowjobs RETROACTIVELY-FOREVER-AND-EVER-WAS.
Angels have piss poor hearing apparently.
Have we just wandered into Knightmare? [Knightmare was an old kids TV show on the BBC - a bunch of kids would control another kid who had a giant helmet with horns on their head and which obscured their vision and so would need to be guided through an elaborate fantasy dungeon that they couldn't see due to the helmet and the other kids could - google it, it was kinda weirdly awesome]
If she gets eaten now I'm saying "ooo... nasty." [the host Knightmare said this everytime a child died, which was a quite frequent occurence.]
"Get a grip Song
Ah, magic time travel mojo, like from Dalek and the Army of Ghosts.
Okay, that was a justifiable bit of foreshadowing from a character it made sense to come from. UNLIKE IN THE FIRST EPISODE.
And how lateses are we?
Quite lateses yes?
Very lateses yes?
And no one remembers her yeseses?
LiveBlogging interrrupted by a CONSTANT STREAM OF WUT!? WUTWUT!? WUT!? WUT!?
I WAS JOKING WITH THE WHOLE "EVERYONE SHALL BE MARRIED AND ORGY!" BIT! NONE OF THAT! WUT!?
LOL, but WUT!? WUT!?
WUT!?
So he wasn't Lateses, everyone remembers her, and WUT!?
He's no fucking mickey. WHY COULDN'T MOFFAT HAVE BEEN THE WRITER FOR SEASON THREE FFS!?
Wut?
