LONDON, ENGLAND. Something horrible has happened on TV Stage 2 at London's Pinewood Studios.
Trails of sticky blood lead to and from the stage.
Lurid, red fingerprints spot the doors.
On the actual stage itself, the source of the carnage evident. A tyrannosaurus rex rests prone on a shiny metal platform, chest open. A sluice tray holds a stomach, curling innards and still more blood.
A pair of drenched white rubber boots sits gory and ensanguinated, vacated by their owner.
When a network known for fact-based programming ventures into the realm of the speculative, the slope is a slippery one.