"Blimey," Donna had gasped when she saw the piles and piles of dishes next to his sink and all of the empty cupboards in the TARDIS's pointlessly large kitchen. The Doctor remembered she had rooted round for a while, leaving the Doctor stood helplessly and uncomfortably in the doorframe. After about five minutes, she had turned to stare daggers at him. "What am I supposed to eat?" She had demanded indignantly. "Dust? Well…" she had then scrutinized his stomach with such disdain that the Doctor felt the sudden need to run and hide. "I wouldn't put it past you, but I'm not a Mars-thing. I need food! And by the way, when was the last time you did your dishes? This is disgusting-"
"She always did the dishes," the Doctor had retaliated.
Donna didn'tsay another word.