"Miss Grant, are you sure this is strictly necessary?" puzzled the Master, tugging uncomfortably at his disguise.
"Trust me, this is going to be perfect," insisted Jo, pressing a small remote control into the Master's hand, "you keep the Chancellor's rapt attention while I break into the safe and retrieve the blueprints for the airship's neutron cannons, then when you reach the grand finale of your performance, you hit the trigger, the explosives go off outside, and we escape round the back entrance while everybody's in a tizzy!"
"Yes, yes, it's quite a flawless little scheme," conceded the Master, "and I'm not averse to using a cabaret as part of our subterfuge, but I'm still not convinced the Chancellor wouldn't rather see you in these fishnet stockings, not me."