This leather jacket belongs to no one in this house. And I'm not certain where the face came from. The way I see it, there can only be two logical explanations for this:
1. The 9th Doctor is going to run up to me at any moment, grab my hand and his jacket and yell, "RUN!"
-or-
2. Someone with impeccable taste in clothing and a dispensable supply of creepy lawn ornaments somehow knows that I just finished watching the weeping angels episode and really wanted to freak me out.
If it be the first, I should be back in about 10 seconds with stories of the universe for you all.
If the second, you fail. Because even the mere idea that The Doctor himself could be at my house is enough to remove all fear of death.