DOCTOR WHO AND THE IRON CHEF
The Doctor looked over the vista of equipment before him. A bead of sweat ran down his brow. He'd fought many of his greatest battles here, and lost every time. No matter what the battle was, jelly babies, celery, carrot juice or haggis, his opponent had always beaten him. Once every incarnation he would come here, hoping to finally win. He looked over at the inscrutable face of Morimoto. Maybe this time...
The chairman whipped the covering from the table to reveal, "Spam!!!"
No emotion showed on either opponent's face as they waited for the signal to start.
"Allez cuisine!!!"