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“Does anyone else find it weird that he’s wearing a hot dog costume?” Rose mused, not really expecting an answer.
The Doctor, of course, had one. “It’s a cultural difference. This lot is fiercely matriarchal, even though the men outnumber the woman two-to-one. There’s a lot of competition over potential mates. The men are forced to put on displays, showing potential partners why they’re the best choice to copulate with. You see this quite often in birds on Earth.”
Rose scoffed. “Never saw a chicken dressed like a ball park frank.” Jack snorted beside her.
The Doctor favored her cheek with one of his genuine smiles. “No, and you won’t,” he agreed.
“But why is he dressed as a hot dog? Seems an odd choice...”
“Well, he’s attempting to show any potential sexual partners that he’s… ah… he’s advertising his… um... assets.” The Doctor stumbled over his words and Rose grinned.
Jack stiffened. “Wait a tick. Are you saying that that guy is dressed like that to make a pull as a way of saying he’s…” He made a lewd gesture involving his forearm and a balled fist that sent Rose into snorting giggles and earned a scowl from the Doctor.
“Yes, he’s ah, promoting himself and, um,” the Doctor stammered through his flaming-red blush, then just simplified: “Yes. That’s what he’s saying.”
The Captain’s face lit up. “Hot diggity dog! I wonder if he plumps when he gets hot, like a real hot dog?”
“Jack,” the Doctor growled, while Rose did her best to hide her tittering laughter.
Jack clapped the Doctor on the shoulder and kissed Rose’s cheek. “Gotta go!”
“Oi! Where are you going?” the Doctor demanded.
Jack turned around and grinned, spreading his hands wide. “Gotta go see a man about a wiener!” Then he his hands in his pockets, heading across the street. “Don’t wait up!” he called back to the Doctor and Rose before spinning away from them whistling the Oscar Meyer jingle merrily.
The Doctor just watched him go, heaving a resigned sigh and draping his arm around Rose when she collapsed against his side in laughter.