Hellooo, darling. [Miror B. grins into the screen, appearing suddenly. There is music playing in the background.] Ooh, look at you, oh-so-mysterious with your ~black cloak.~ [This is accompanied by wiggling fingers and a funny voice.] So sorry, darling, the Tympole rather ruins the effect.

[The eccentric disco-dancing fiend leans back in a chair somewhere, his feet up on a table.] Having trouble are we? New place? You don't look so well.