There is a coach party staying at the hotel. This means the place is overrun with people who do not have a basic understanding of the geography of the hotel. They also seem to share a single pulse between them. As a result breakfast is chaos as pairs of these folk pass the pulde from one to another as the dodder along the breakfast bar unable to decide between the prunes, the All-bran, and the Branflakes. Shuffling back to the table they pass the pulse on to the next couple... and so it continues.