“William Jamison the Third has a problem, Doctor and I don’t know how to explain it.” She stops and looks directly at the biscuit tin as if her finger was pointing out a culprit.
The Doctor follows her gaze and sees no evil, just bottles of wine and that distinctive smell that is driving him mad. He doesn’t know why but words just come out of his mouth: “Are you saying William Jamison the Third is allergic to roast chicken?”