Horrified about the latest in a string of indignities, Donna was building up a fine head of steam.
“Look at me! I’m covered in… whatever this stuff is!”
“It’s…” the Doctor started.
“Shut it, Spaceman! I don’t even WANT to know; I just want it off me, pronto! You’re gonna be payin’ for this, let me tell you! My clothes are ruined, and my hair… I look like I’ve taken up mud wrestling!”
“I’ll have you know this stuff is highly sought after for its beautifying properties,” the Doctor protested. “You’ll be thanking me later.”
“Don’t count on it, Sunshine!”