Not just the Apocalypse from the toast’s point of view, of course, although it was pretty traumatic. Just imagine, one moment you’re a brand new slice of bread, newly separated from your mother loaf, and ready to step out into the world in search of the Promised Jam, when suddenly you end up with a terminally severe tan and you’re on your way to making the acquaintance of your companions for the rest of your existence, Used Teabag and Potato Peeling.

No, we’re talking about full-on Apocalypse. End of the world. Four horses, Death, the whole shebang. And in this case it was because the first wisp of smoke, as it threaded its way out of the top of the toaster, reached the smoke alarm that some bright spark had installed on the wall of the kitchen. Smoke alarms are generally a good thing. However, when the one person who can hear it happens to be a) the Secretary of Defense for the United States Government and b) slightly on edge already due to an unfortunate family incident, something is bound to go wrong.