Every time a new dignitary enters the great hall to be presented to the planet’s rulers and their honoured guests, the two loinclothed palace greeters clash gigantic cymbals together, once, twice, three times, before announcing the new arrival at the tops of their voices. It’s giving Donna a headache.
She’d love to cover her ears to block out the sound, but she doesn’t want to cause any offence. Everyone’s been so nice to her and the Doctor; they’ve been bathed, dressed in gorgeous robes, and this feast is in their honour.
It would be lovely if it wasn’t so loud.