When the Master's arm vanished, so apparently did the Doctor's ability to hold himself up. He collapsed on the floor by the Master's side, clutching the counter and shaking uncontrollably as the laughter took him. The tea was everywhere; the side of the counter, the floor, even in the Doctor's hair. His converse were going to be ruined, he realised dimly, and that just set him off again into more peals of laughter.