The old stage-door keeper! Unrecognisable save for his strange, spindly height and the weird contraption wrapped over his face like a chamois leather with eye holes.

A gasp ran round the auditorium.

The Prince of Wales turned to Mortlock, frowning. ‘This part of the act?’

‘The what?’ mumbled Anne from under the Doctor’s hand. ‘The last of the what?’

‘The Castrati!’ said the Doctor. ‘And that machine is clearly amplifying his voice. Amplifying it to dangerous levels. Last of the Castrati,’ he mused. ‘Oh, boll—’ Then he cried out as Anne bit into his hand!

She pulled away, but he grabbed at her arm. ‘Did you know about this?’ he demanded, sucking on his hand.

‘Nuffink! I swear,’ cried Anne. ‘All I wanted was to be famous!’

Piccolo, beneath his ghastly mask, crossed downstage. ‘And now, at last,’ he rasped. ‘I claim my vengeance! Vengeance on you … ’

In the audience, the Prince of Wales shifted uneasily in his chair.

But Piccolo fixed another with his unwavering gaze. ‘… Cardinal Mazzini!’

The Papal envoy looked up, understandably stunned.

And then Piccolo took a huge breath into his barrel-like chest – and began to sing.

It was the same, gorgeous voice everyone had thought was Anne’s. Sweet, intoxicating – but it instantly began to rise in pitch, becoming unpleasantly high, painful, horrible even. Waves of sound began to pummel the crowd and a little boy was sick into his mother’s lap. People began to clap their hands to their ears and shriek in agony. And then, inevitably, panic gripped them. The entire crowd in the theatre surged towards the exits – only to find the doors had been chained shut by the wily stage-door keeper!

Letting Anne go, the Doctor raced across the stage towards Piccolo, clamping his hands over his ears. But it was like he was battling a gale. The sheer force of the sound, thrumming through the auditorium, made the Doctor’s teeth rattle in his head. He fell to his knees and they cracked off the boards of the stage.

In the Royal Box, the Prince was suddenly swamped in his own opera cloak by his loyal equerry, desperately trying to shut out the sound. Close by, abandoned by his entourage, the Cardinal’s head was vibrating from side to side. Blood began to stream from his ears and nose.

The Doctor staggered to his feet, sonic screwdriver in hand – and suddenly a blanket of silence fell over the theatre. There was a great sigh of relief from the fleeing crowd. At which point, Madam dashed onto the stage. She had shut her lugholes off, using the same sort of reptile trick that protected her eyes with a secondary lid. She zigzagged across the stage and, swinging back her dainty leg, kicked Piccolo savagely in the crotch.