My horror just now on realising I’d thrown my favourite cream silk shirt into the wash with my dark socks gave me a sudden vision of a typical laundry day on the Death Star.
I can just see some poor minion in the steam filled bowels holding up a murky grey storm trooper’s uniform and muttering in disgust “How many times have I told Vader? The robes go in the DARK laundry basket!!”
(And thankfully my shirt survived the wash…the Force must be with me...)