“I thought you were in a hurry to get back to the TARDIS!” Amy tried to peer over the Doctor’s shoulder from her perch on the back of the motorcycle. “What’s the hold-up?”
“Traffic jam,” he replied cheerfully.
“What d’you mean? We haven’t seen a single vehicle besides this bike.”
“Not that kind of traffic.” The Doctor shifted so his passenger could see the road ahead; it was a seething mass of greyish, warty creatures.
“What are they?”
“Beezles. I was hoping we could reach the TARDIS before they began swarming, but it looks like we’re going to be delayed.