The Doctor was dancing around the TARDIS controls with his usual enthusiasm when Rose entered the room.
“Hello!” he beamed at her, happily.
“Doctor,” said Rose, broaching the subject with the gravity it called for. “We need to discuss the state of some of your ties.”
The Doctor drew up short. “What?” he squeaked.
“I think they might need to be…dry-cleaned. Properly dry-cleaned.”
“Earth dry-cleaned? But…what’s wrong with TARDIS dry-cleaning?”
“The TARDIS has refused to clean the ties anymore.”
The Doctor stared at Rose. “I’m going to have dry-cleaning?”
“The last nail of domesticity in your coffin,” Rose agreed, mildly.