[Scene: A ramshackle castle, perched on a steep and windswept mountainside. From this chill 4D, the slopes descend precipitously to a warm and pleasant bay, surrounded by white sand beaches on an azure sea, sparkling in the morning sun. A suspiciously new and unblemished harbour area lies to one side of the Caff. Within the castle, a dishevelled figure bursts into the hazardous materials kitchen, surprising its occupant.]
Igor, how many times have I told you not to distract me when I'm handling Marmite? This stuff is dangerous!
But, thir, it'th important!
All right, take this crumpet while I clean up. What is it that's so pressing?
There'th been trouble in the town, thir! Latht night. At the dockth.
Docks? We don't have docks in the town. It's halfway up a mountain. Where would docks come from? What use would they be? Pass me the biohazard bin.
They appeared latht night, marthter. Thuddenly. And then there wath all thortth of commothionth alongthide one of the thips.
Suddenly? Oh, I suppose it's them at the Caff again, playing with unseemly powers and literary might. Give me back that crumpet, Igor. I suppose we'll just have to put up with the added carousing in the usual way.
No, Igor, you fool, ether.
[The dread figure of the scientist looks more closely at his experimental materials.]
Igor... this crumpet has a bite taken out of it. Can you explain this outrage?
Thorry, thir. It'th patht my breakfatht time.
Well, go and get another one, stoke the hellfires below, and I'll find the toasting fork again.
[The ragged figure shambles away.]
So, experiment 18, Marmite sequence Daleth, subject one has so far shown no ill effects, but we will continue to monitor for any of the expected changes in behaviour, speech patterns, gait or hair colour.
[Later that day...]
Igor! Put down that ferret!
The bay and the beaches from this morning... what have you done with them?
Are you certain, Igor? Remember the bakery incident?
Yeth, marthter, I remember. But I didn't do that to the beacheth. The thellar'th too thmall for tho much thand.
Well, they're gone again. Check the splother levels on the meter. And did you know that your hair is going blue at the ends?
Thplother levelth are thwinging hard, thir, and the recordth thay it'th been even worth thith afternoon.
That's not good. Fetch the TARDIS from last Tuesday! We must recover it and send the pieces to SpanishScot at the Caff!
[The ill-matched pair get into the TARDIS and depart for the recent past in a fading groan.]