The Doctor’s pretty sure this isn’t where he thought he was going. He’s supposed to be on Mirrilees for the coronation of the new king, which is always quite a party; the people elect their new monarch every year and the celebrations last an entire month.
This doesn’t look like Mirrilees though; it looks an awful lot like someone’s bedroom, judging by the woman sitting up in bed, screaming at him.
He gives an apologetic cough. “So sorry to intrude. This isn’t Mirrilees, is it?”
The woman throws her alarm clock at him and he ducks. “That’s what I thought.”