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“Let me get this straight,” the Doctor says — incredulous despite himself. “You called Rose and me back because there’s a localized probable alien invasion underway. But the main reason you’re upset is… that they landed in a garden?”
“Yes!” Jackie Tyler is incensed. “Aliens are one thing. You’re an alien, and you’re bad enough. But what kind of animal puts a rocket ship in the middle of a community garden?”
“Lesser Vraxinadutonians, judging from the design of that ship,” the Doctor answers.
(Also Time Lords, occasionally — it’s hard to be precise about materialization. But he has self-preservation enough not to mention that at this particular moment.)
“After all the trouble poor Nicola put into it,” Jackie continues ranting. “Planning and collecting seeds and organizing all those volunteers! Well, you know what, I don’t care if these aliens are less vaccinated or not. When I get my hands on them…”
She trails off threateningly, and the Doctor’s cheek tingles in painful remembrance of the slap that sometimes accompanies that angry glint in Jackie Tyler’s eyes.
The Doctor would not want to be a Vraxinadutonian in London today, he thinks wryly. The invasion had better hope he and Rose find them first.