Classic Canaries 14: Morris is Not Best Pleased and Neither is Euro Bikle.

Morris: “I am not best pleased Yolanda!” he announces as he suddenly appears in the bedroom at home. The curtains are still drawn and Yolanda is sprawled under the covers.

Yolanda: “What is it Morris?” comes the feeble reply “Christ my head, oh god” she hauls herself into a semi sitting upright position and looks at Morris through the gloom

Morris: “Bad headcold my dear? Maybe a lemsip?”

Yolanda: “Oh god I couldn’t, no it was that cocktail bar and that awful Les Dawson character.

LD Johnson: “Mwaaaerk?” comes a similarly feeble reply from the room

Yolanda: “What the fuck?” she asks of the world horrified. In truth Les Dawson Johnson is not in the bed with her but is lying on the floor near the bottom of the bed, he sticks he head up and looks around weakly, his wig seems to be shoved in the top of his crumpled shirt giving a rather curious beard like effect.

Morris: “Ah there you are Johnson? Good night out?” Johnson also looks a little green round the gills “Anyway as I was saying I am not best pleased, bloody monstrous pelican Johnson faffed it up after I swapped to plan B, now all the effeminate Johnsons are drunk so I cannot use them. What am I to do for a pelican?”

Yolanda: “A what Morris?”

Morris: “A pelican Yolanda, are you deaf?”

Yolanda: “Oh god, don’t shout Morris? What do you want a pelican for, isn’t it a canary show?”

Morris: “I do not need four pelicans Yolanda, just one would suffice, maybe a canary would be better though?”

Yolanda is already beginning to wish she was back in the Karoake bar, but tries to be helpful

Yolanda: “Why don’t you just magic one up dear? do the old ‘I am a powerful wizard’ thing”

Morris: “What do you mean?”

Yolanda: “I mean just magic up a fucking canary!”

Morris: “Yolanda this is a family show, not one your bird on bird action festivals that you seem to like so much, eh LD?”

Johnson is amused by this and laughs but it clearly doesn’t please Yolanda.

Yolanda: “I haven’t been anywhere near that thing Morris, give me some credit!”

Morris: “How much credit would you like my sweet? I can offer you a good deal on balance transfers with a new Telly Savalas credit card, 15.9% no interests for the first 18 months,  a small charge applies!”

Les Dawson seems interested in this deal and wants to know more, but Morris has already moved on.

Morris: “I suppose I could always magic up a canary, these ruined cushions and pillows look like good prima materia to me, no use to us now my dear anyway!”

Yolanda: “Oh he hasn’t? My good waitrose pillows?”

Morris: “I’m afraid so my sweet, anyway I’m offski with the pillows remnants, must remember to turn them into birds, now out of bed you two! see what I did there, I’ll leave the milk float round the front, I’ll see you at the bird show, apparently Euro Bikle is coming, so zat will be a laugh. Not!” and in an instant he is gone. Les Dawson however is clearly something of a Euro-Bikle fan and quickly gets to his feet, removes the wig from the front of his shirt and goes to splash some water on his face. Yolanda looks on, and heaves herself up slowly.

Outside the registration tent a large crowd has gathered. The committee and Euro-Bikle are making there way across the show to this exact venue, but now their way is barred by the group of humans and avians. Raucous laughter can be heard emitting from the hubbub. Closer inspection reveals that there is a figure in the middle of the crowd that seems to be supplying the entertainment. Hornby can be clearly seen at the periphery laughing at the spectacle.

Leonard: “Zat’s crippled ze bitch!” he shouts again and more laughter ripples through the mob. Hornby turns to see the approaching committee and greets them enthusiastically.

Hornby: “Oh my goodness, you lot are in for a treat, did you know who’s here, it’s non other than Euro-Bikle! and he’s doing the catchphrase.

The committee look horrified and embarrassed and turn to Euro-Bikle.

Haverstock: “Umm I don’t know what he could mean”

Euro Bikle: (the real one) looking less than impressed “What de fuck is dat? By badager will hear about dis bake do bistake! Ged dat buffoon out of here dow and shut hib up, I’ve licenced do Euro-Bikle frimpersonation act, oh except dat bloke up in glasgow, but he doesn’t look like dat!”

Hornby who has now seen the real Euro Bikle looks confused.

Hornby: “Who’s that, it looks like Euro Bikle?!”

Haverstock: “It is Euro Bikle! Who the dickens is that!”

Hornby: “It’s one of the bird show contestants, he said he was Euro Bikle and he’s got the accent, I just thought he was in his day clothes!”

But Euro Bikle can stand it no longer.

Euro Bikle: “Out of de way, I’ll deal with dis!” and he pushes his way through the crowd to the centre “Frola!” he says with a flourish “You b’sieur are a frimposter! En garde!” and Euro Bikle whips out a rapier from his belt.

Sadly for Euro Bikle, his flourish is little to the Duke of Croy’s street fighting days, who with a shout of “zis should cripple ze bitch!” lashes out a vicious right foot to the groin of Euro Bikle who folds like serviette and crumples to a heap clutching his gonads, a palid agonised expression on his face.

The crowd think it’s more of the same and laugh and laugh. Bottles and potatoes fly in the air in the Dionysian fervour. The committee are more than aghast. Haverstock in particular is mortified but dare not go near his felled hero for fear of the psychotic snarling ‘Euro Bikle’.

Leonard: “Any wan for some more eh fuckairs!?” The crowd roar an tumultuous incomprehensible response. “Are we ‘aveeing a good fuckeeng birdshow mes amis?!”

It’s a disaster frankly, none of them know what to do. Inside the tent, though Bikle is starting to come round…

Published in: on March 21, 2016 at 12:42 pm  Comments (1)  

Classic Canaries 13: Idiot Outfit Exchange and Other Nonsense.

The reception committee gather round the vehicle expectantly, the door opens, and a by now very familiar figure steps out. This Bikle is dressed in a stylish Italian suit, marred somewhat by the fact that it is partnered with clogs, a matador’s cape and a spiked Kaiser Wilhelm era German helmet. In addition, he is carrying a baguette, some Swiss cheese and an alpenhorn.

Euro Bikle: “Bodjour, guted tag, buedas dias, boudgiordo ad dzied dobry to you bird fadciers ode ad all! Euro Bikle est arriveé!” There is a smattering of applause, led by Haverstock, who is waving some tulips and a pair of castanets. EB, nods and waves graciously. “Dadke schöd beid liebligs! Dow, let’s see dese feathery abigos of yours, muy prodto!”

Haverstock: (jumping up and down excitedly) “Euro Bikle! Euro Bikle! Go on! Say it!”

Euro Bikle: “Err say what exactly senor?”

Haverstock: “Your catchphrase! Go on! Do the catchphrase!”

Euro Bikle: (looking embarrassed)”Oh dear. Didn’t by badager have dis codversatiod wid you over de telephode? Oh dearie be, dat is bost udfortudate. I’b afraid dat I dod’t do dat catchphrase ady bore. I bead, cobe od, dat was twedty odd years ago! Dis is de twedty first cedtury, you cad’t go around de place talkig about “cripplig bitches!” dat’s bunbelievably bidappropriate! Bisogydistic dodsedse! I’b ashabed of byself as it is, let alode carryig od like dat dow, I’b a reforbed character you dow!”

Haverstock: (looks crestfallen) “But, but…”

Euro Bikle: “Do, do. I’b sorry, but it’s off de agenda. Besides, dis is a fabily evedt surely?”

Haverstock: “Well, er yes. I suppose.”

Euro Bikle”Well ded, let’s hear do bore about it. Where’s dese prize birds ded? I’b quite de keed abateur ordithologist you dow!”

Feeling somewhat chastened and obscurely ashamed of themselves, the committee members lead their guest off in rather a subdued fashion. As they pass through the event a couple of them notice that knots and groups of lairy, drunken Johnsons are becoming both more prevalent, and more rowdy. Big Chief Thompson has so far entered into the spirit of things that he has deigned to have a go on the “Aunt Sally” stall. The sight of their rivals’ leader sticking his head through a hole in a board decorated with a painting of a stout lady in a bathing costume and having wet sponges flung at him by his followers is just too much for the Johnsons,a group of whom gather round and begin jeering and hooting abusively at him. Soon enough, the damp sponges are supplemented by a hail of half eaten baked potatoes and empty beer bottles hurled by the rambunctious birdmen. Big Chief Thompson comes out from behind the Aunt Sally to remonstrate with them, but immediately finds himself surrounded by a ring of intimidating, truculent figures who begin shoving him around the center of the circle and mocking him. One or two Thompsons make an attempt to break through the ring and rescue him, but the mild mannered parrot / penguin combinations are no match for the burly, tanked up Johnsons. Eventually, provoked beyond endurance, Big Chief Thompson shoves one of his tormentors back. Unfortunately for him, he picksYou Wouldn’t Want To Meet Him Down A Dark Alley Johnson to push, and is swiftly rendered hors d’combat by an expertly thrown right to the beak. The rest of the Johnsons begin cheering and jumping up and down, their predatory racial instincts by now thoroughly roused. Hornby, still engaged on his thus far fruitless search for trouble, observes the fracas and hurries to intervene. As he does so, he stumbles over a grotesque figure, and nearly falls. Clutching Hornby’s legs the figure drags itself upright. To his shock he recognises it as being the missing Antwerp. The normally neat and businesslike publican is pale and wild eyed, scorched at the extremities, and lightly coated in semi digested tuna and potato.

Hornby: “Antwerp? Where the hell have you been?”

Antwerp: Seizing Hornby by the shoulders and staring him in the eyes. “If this is your village bird show, no, if this is your village, then you can keep it mate. You can have it. In fact, you can shove it right up your arse. Chuffed I was, being new here, oh come and be on the committee for the bird show! Antwerp, I says to myself, these kind people have accepted you, taken you, as it were, to their bosom. Touched I was, and proud. Nobody however mentioned the getting swallowed alive by a giant man / goose / penguin / pelican combination and then regurgitated by said abomination as it is engulfed in a pillar of unearthly fire did they though? So, to reiterate, you sunshine, can stuff your bird show, your committee, your cursed village of insanity and sudden violent death, I’m getting my wife and kids and getting out of here!”

With that, he breaks free of Hornby’s grasp and hares off through the crowd as fast as his legs will carry him, leaving his erstwhile committee colleague staring after him in amazement. Walking past this scene, munching on a bag of toffees, and oblivious to it all, is Buckle. One thing which does catch his eye however, is the Comte in all his tawdry finery.

Buckle: “Ho! Hello dere hadsobe! I do like dat houtfit! Bost stylish I bust say!”

Alfonso: “Ah do you really sink so M’sieur? Zat Leonard was quat rude about eet!”

Buckle: “Do, do, dat’s a super look dat you have got goig od dere! Hi wish dat I had a suit of garbedts just like deb!”

Alfonso: “Really M’sieur? Well we can alwaz swap clothes eef vous want?”

Buckle: “Bodestly?really ad truly ad bodestly? I’ll gib you dese toffees!”

Alfonso: “It’s a deal! Dat Leonard, ‘e nevair lets me ‘ave sugar, ‘e says ah get ‘ow you say, ‘eyperacteeve!”

Buckle: “Barvellous!”

And so without any further ado, the two idiots strip and exchange clothes. Buckle hurries off to find Bikle in order to show off his new wardrobe, and Alphonso sets off, mouth stuffed with toffee, to find Leonard, to do likewise, thus adding yet another layer of confusion to things, inasmuch as now not only is Bikle wearing a rented Bikle costume, albeit one consisting of his own stolen clothes, but Buckle is now rigged out in a rented Buckle costume, borrowed from a man now wearing a Bikle costume magically conjured by the Turkey, again from Bikle’s wardrobe, whilst his associate is sporting yet another rented Bikle costume, consisting of the clothes that Bikle discarded at the costume hire stall when he changed into the Bikle costume he rented, which as has previously been stated, was actually his own clothes, stolen by the unscrupulous proprietor of said costume hire stall. Anyway, here comes Morris, and he doesn’t look best pleased…

 

 

Published in: on March 21, 2016 at 12:32 pm  Leave a Comment  

Classic Canaries 12: Alfonso’s Entry and a Celebrity Appears!

At this moment who should come into the tent but another Bikle like character, but wait on a minute, this one is different. Sure enough there is the long black hair and glasses but the cloak seems to be an old curtain in dark grey and beige, the shirt a kind of yellow smock and the trousers a vicious purple velvet. In his hand he clutches a cage, inside which something scurries around at the bottom

Alfonso: “Ah Leonard! There you are, look mon amis, ah can join you in your plan!”

Leonard looks with derision at the figure, then starts to laugh

Leonard: “Why you fuckair Alphonso, it’s you, why you look like, you look like… the very Comte de Bersierneaux himself!” (for those who do not know this level of the joke, Alfonso is the Comte de Bersierneaux whilst owing all his ancestors being a right bunch of idiots, to say ‘did you see so and so, he looked like the very ‘Comte de Bersierneaux himself” is to say he looked a proper Charlie)

Alfonso:  “Do you lak eet! Mr Cutlair said ‘e as sold out of ze sheet Beekle outfits but ‘e made this one just for me and said it was a sheet Buckle outfit, and zat zat was bettair as ‘e’s the smaat one of ze two enyway.”

Leonard: “Ah don’t know about zat, Alfonso, you look a proper cunt anyway, and what is zat in your cag?”

Alfonso: “Eh? Oh zis is ma canary, princess mouse! Mr Cutlair sold it to me aussi!”

Leonard: “Fuckeeng  ‘ell Alfonso! Ah can’t believe you sometams, zat is a mouse you fuckair! Look at eet! Actually no time for zat, quickly wa’ll is attention is distracted, let’s ‘ide these bodies while zere out cold! ‘Ere elp me with zese rugs, and bring zat tape over ‘ere!”

Leonard then rummages in the different bird cages until he finds Melanie, takes her out and shoves her in Bikles mouth, after which he uses some tape from Hornby’s desk to tape up Clancy’s beak, then using two helpfully placed rugs, the Frenchmen roll up the unconscious contestants. The rolled up rugs are then placed to one side of the room with a handy throw chucked over them so they look very much like a makeshift seat. Leonard then takes Alfonso’s cage, grabs the mouse out of it, shoves it in Melanie’s empty cage, hits Alfonso over the head with his cage and insists that he leave the tent in strong language.

Over at the show entrance there is some excitement. The mawkish Mr Havestock has arrived and is excited to tell various organisers of something particularly amazing he has arranged for the day. The string of onions around his neck tells the others something of what it is likely to be about for they are well aware of his obscure fandom.

Haverstock: “Listen up! Listen up! This is the best thing! Where is Hornby? Oh hello my dear at least you can hear of it? Where are the Richards, oh over there, come hither come hither!” Various village bigwigs and committee members gather round “You’ll dever, I mean never guess what I have arranged today, as a special Judge and figurehead for the birdshow?!” They look on expectantly. “I have arranged for a small passport fee, for non-other than Euro-Bikle himself to come to our little show today, isn’t that just the best!?”

There are some polite eyebrows and smiles and some enthusiasm, possibly less though than he hoped for

Richards: “Err that’s brilliant Mr Haverstock, what time will he arriving? The show is in full swing already and the show itself is scheduled for 2 o clock.”

Haverstock: “I believe Richards, that he’ll be along any moment, in fact what’s that I can here now?”

Sure enough from the car park area can be heard a gaudy car horn version of La Marseillaise followed by the sound of car door slamming and a loud

Euro-Bikle: “Frole! Bind ze paintwork froo fricha!”

Haverstock: “We’d better go and greet him!”

The others not wishing to miss out on this minor celebrity visitation make their way over to the entrance. Hornby of course, who is still on monster, napoleon, ghost check on the far side of the show, knows nothing of this yet…

Published in: on March 21, 2016 at 12:12 pm  Leave a Comment  

Classic Canaries 11: Catchphrase Connundrum.

Before either can speak, up ambles Plenipotentiary Johnson holding a covered cage. Planting it firmly on the registration desk he airily indicates that Hornby should register it.

Hornby “Your name?”

Johnson: “Mwaaerk!”

Hornby: “But you aren’t Mr Morris.” answers Hornby, who is clearly a linguist of no mean accomplishment.

Johnson: “Mwaerk. Mwaaerk!”

Hornby: “Oh, I see, busy is he? Very well I think that we can see our way clear to let you register then. Just let me find one of our er, abnormal entry forms.” With this last, he shoots another glance of sickened loathing at Bikle. “Right. Now name of the bird?”

Johnson: “Mwaeerk!”

Hornby: “Prim Princess Rose? Really?”

Johnson nods affirmatively and Hornby goes to stamp the card, narrowly missing being covered by a bowl of trifle which appears from nowhere. Johnson places the cage next to those of Bikle and the Turkey and wanders off for a baked potato. An uneasy silence prevails between the two antagonists until suddenly Clancy leaps to his feet, a horrified expression on his face.

Clancy: “Blplplblp! The monster!” he cries, pointing to the doorway of the tent. As Bikle’s attention is distracted, there is a “Whisk!” as Clancy switches the cages, replacing Bikle’s cage with his own.

Bikle: “I dod’t see ady bodster!”

Clancy: “Never mind! Gone now! Blplblblp! All clear on monster front!”

Bikle: “Ho dat’s good. I wouldn’t want a bonster to get by little Pribrose Pridcess.”

Clancy: “Blplp! Certainly not! Keep close eye on her! Wouldn’t want unscrupulous rival to swap her for a vulgar plastic ‘Flashing Canary’ novelty that they purchased from MrCutler, under your very nose for instance?”

Bikle: “I should say dot! De very idea is frappallig!”

Clancy: “Blplblblp, yes yes, I thought so too!” responds the Turkey, turning his head to conceal a smug look of triumph. A cheerful voice greets them genially.

Morris: “Afternoon Shit boy, Turkey Bastard, here with your loser birds eh? Ho ho ho, looking forward to enjoying your humiliation at the judging, when they clap eyes on your shabby specimens?” so saying, he takes a quick peek under the cloth of his cage, and his face darkens. “Excuse me a moment.” Morris stalks angrily from the tent, Clancy and Bikle exchange confused glances. From outside comes a WHOOOSH and a despairing “Mwaaeeerk!”. As a cloud of distinctly avian scented smoke wafts into the tent there is the sound ofan electric motor whines to a halt outside, a moment later Fire Inspector Johnson rushes in excitedly. “Mwaerk! Mwaeeark!” Hornby leaps to his feet.

Hornby: “You heard him gentlemen, everyone out! Fire alarm!”

Bikle: “Dow wait a bidute!”

Clancy: “Blplblblp! Really!”

Hornby is in no mood to argue, seizing the pair roughly and propelling them towards the exit. They go to grab their cages, but FI Johnson flaps authoritatively.

FI Johnson: “Mwaerk!”

Hornby: “Quite right!” agrees Hornby, “No time for that, besides, remember the rules, no birds to leave the tent until judging!”

FLJ and Hornby usher the protesting duo outside, then FLJ ducks hurriedly back under the tent flap, stares confusedly at the 3 identical cages, and then with a shrug swaps them around at random, before going back outside togive the all clear. Whilst this charade is taking place, Leonard is walking into the beer tent in his Bikle costume. Alphonso looks at him confusedly.

Alfonso: “Ehh Leonard mon ami, what are you doeeng in that get up? You look like zat Beekle fellow n’est pas?”

Leonard: “Zat’s ze idea you wankair. Do you know ‘ow much ze winnair of zis sheet theeng walks away weeth? Two ‘undred an’ feefty fuckeeng smackairs! So ah plan to sneak in to zat tent, knock zat bony cunt over ze ‘ead and stuff ‘im into a been, zen nick ‘is canary an’ turn eet into cold ‘ard cash!”

Alfonso: “Ah fantastique mon ami, an’ zen we get drunk eh?”

Leonard: “Not fuckeeng lakly wankair, zen ah get drunk, you can ave, ow you say, ze steam off mah peess! Now, ah ave a second ‘and cage ‘ere, ah just need someseenk ah can passoff as a canary unteel ah get mah ‘ands on zat bird of Beekle’s.”

Unsteadily he looks around the beer tent, until his eye lights on a yellow object on the bar. Grabbing it, he stuffs it into the cage and heads for the registration tent. Arriving amidst the confusion of the fire alarm he manages to sneak in under the canvas, only to be confronted by three cages. He can hear the disgruntled competitors returning, so on the entirely reasonable grounds that anything in those cages is more likely than the contents of his to at least resemble a bird, he grabs at a cage at random and does the old switcheroo just as Bikle and Clancy return. Noticing an extra person in the tent, Hornby drags him and his cage to the desk.

Hornby: “And who might you be then? Another of those perverts?”

Leonard stands as straight as his prodigious intake of alcohols will allow.

Leonard: “How dare you M’sieur? Ah am err, err, ah oui, ah am zat Euro Beekle off ze telly, ah was vairy populaire for a vairy brief period in ze nahnties. Ah ‘ad a commaircially disastrous action figaire an’ everyseeng.”

Hornby: “Oh I am sorry, I didn’t recognise you. Name of your bird? It is a canary I assume?” “Zat’s correct, oui, an eet is a lemon. Lemonie, err, ah mean Melanie, zat’s raht Melanie. Ah apologahse, ah am ‘ow you say? a leetle beet deeslexeec no?”

Poor Hornby, ordinarily an abstemious man, throws  a longing glance towards the beer tent.

Hornby: “Yes yes. Here’s your badge, move along, move along.”

Bikle does a double take at the appearance of yet another lookalike.

Bikle: “Ho god, dot adother ode! You’re dot a bodster are you? I dod’t dow whether I’b cobig or goig wid all dese pesky Bikles!”

Leonard: “Ave no fear M’sieur, surely you remember moi, Euro Beekle?”

Bikle’s face brightens.

Bikle: “Oh yes! I used to watch you od de televisiod, you were barvellous! I bought by brother ode of your fractiod figures! Go od, say it!”

Leonard: “Er, say what mon ami, I mean bod abi?”

Bikle: “Your hilarious cadtchphrase frof course! Ho dat used to bake us laugh!”

Clancy peers suspiciously at the self proclaimed Euro Bikle.

Clancy: “Blplblp! Certainly! Most humerous! Come along. Trot it out. Quickly now!”

Leonard looks around a little desperately.

Leonard: “Er an’ wheech catchphrase would zat, I mean dat be bes abis? It was a long tahm ago.”

Clancy: “Blblplp! You know! Only one catchphrase! Be mostsuspicious if you don’t do it! You might be monster! Intend to gobble us up like poor cousin Laurence!”

Leonard glares at Clancy balefully.

Leonard: “Vairy well M’sieur, leesten vairy carefully, as ah shall say zis only once,”

Clancy: “Blplblplp! Wrong show! Not your catchphrase!”

Leonard looks at him confusedly.

Leonard: “Ah ‘aven’t said eet yet, come closair M’sieur.”

The Turkey waddles nearer, the look of triumph again on his face, only to be felled with a vicious swipe of a half empty bottle of kiwi fruit Mad Dog 20/20 around the back of the head.

Leonard: “Et voila fuckair! Ha, zat’s crippled ze beetch!”

Bikle: “Ho dat’s de ode! Oh barvellous! Dat’s crippled de bitch! Ho dat brigs it all back, good old Euro Bikle!”

The Duke of Croy looks even more confused for a moment, then decides to playalong.

Leonard: “Oh you lahked zat did you? Should I do eet one more tahm?”

Bikle: “Ho go od den! After de weekend dat I’ve had I could do wid a bit of fud!”

Leonard:”Very well M’sieur, you asked for eet!” *SMASH* *THUD*

As Bikle hits the floor, Hornby starts to protest, but then decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Leonard looks thoughtfully at the felled competitors, neither of which is moving for the moment, then looks at Hornby fiddling with his phone at the desk, studiously ignoring the result of the violence. Suddenly Leonard strikes a dramatic pose and stares out of the tent before shouting

Leonard: “Eh ‘Ornby, zere’s some trouble outside, fucking ‘ell it looks bad, you ‘ad better go quick, do not fear m’sieur ah will guard ze tent!”

Hornby gets up, looks worried, looks at the felled competitors bleeding heads, looks out the tent, can’t see anything, looks back at Leonard’s now snarling visage, and decides maybe a quick check is in order.

Hornby: “Err what did you see?”

Leonard: “Ah’m not sure fuckair, maybe Napoleon, maybe a ghost, you ‘ad better go and check!”

So off Hornby goes, not quite sure what he’s checking but doesn’t fancy the alternative of tangling with ‘Euro Bikle’ much…

Published in: on March 14, 2016 at 12:26 pm  Leave a Comment  

Classic Canaries 10: Monsters, Disguises and other Nonsense.

He brings him to a colourful stall where he buys him a lolly

Clancy: “Blblblbp, there you are, prize juggins, lucky you, blblblblp, anyway important things to tell you, come closer!”

Buckle: “Ho imbortant things, how Barvellous!”

Clancy: “Blblblblbp, may not think so when I tell you, your brother has been taken over by a monster!”

Buckle: “A bonster!” Buckle’s face is captivated

Clancy: “Blblblbp yes, blblblbp terrible business! Monster looks like Bikle blblblbp, is trying to get his canary, so blblblp your brother won’t win the show!”

Buckle: “Dis is awful bister Turkey?! Does Bikle dow about it?!”

Clancy: “Blblblblp, unsure, monster may have taken him somewhere, been trying to help, searching for him blblblbp, but beware! If possible blblblblblp get the bird to safety!”

Buckle: “A bonster! Ibagid dat! I bust go and tell Bikle about dat!” and off he tries to hurry before the Turkey catches his arm

Clancy: “Blblblblp! Best not to, blblblbp, might be the monster instead, might eat you blblblbp, cousin Lawrence once eaten by large omnivore you know!”

Buckle: “Ho really?”

Clancy: “Blblp, dangerous business, best to stay away but bring bird to me if possible, blblblblp will see it gets to the show safely, replace it with this clockwork bird, blblblbp, monster won’t know the difference!”

Buckle: “But bister Turkey, Bi can’t get to de Bikle’s bird!”

Clancy: “Blblblblp, not as you are but blblblbp, a few adjustments…” and with a sudden whisk and whirr of his feathery appendages Buckle suddenly looks much more like his brother, indeed there is only now the more idiotic expression to tell them apart “Blbllblblbp! No time to lose, blblblbp, watch out for the monster, rescue the bird, if anyone asks, blblbp, say you’re Bikle.”

So Buckle hurries off with a clockwork canary and no real idea what he’s been asked to do, or much of a clue about any of it really, one feature though does persist in his enfeebled mind ‘Bikle’s been taken over by a monster’ and the cautionary tale of cousin Lawrence and the ‘large omnivore’.

Back near the tent, the emergency services have been called and various Johnsons are dragging the decapitated mechanically adjusted corpse of Piers Johnson out of the duck pond, whilst nearby Morris is surreptitiously speaking to monstrous pelican Johnson.

Morris:  “Right Johnson, so here’s the plan, I will cast a glamour over you so you look like old shit bean, you then go in the tent and get the bird by whatever means, anyone bothers you, you know what to do” Johnson mwaaerks thuggishly, then opens his enormous gullet wide and makes a swallowing motion, “That’s right Johnson, you’ve got it. Now off you pop.”

And so off pops MP Johnson who suddenly looks a facsimile of Bikle to all onlookers. Buckle wandered on with the clockwork bird twittering in his pocket, thinking it quite marvellous. Unsure now as to what he was supposed to be doing and bereft of his toy car and various sweets he decided to go and ask Bikle for more money for sweets. So after a small amount of confusion he found the bird registration tent where he had last seen his brother. Sure enough there was Bikle, perched on as many cushions as he could borrow, next to the cage of primrose princess.

Buckle: “Bikle! Bikle dere you are! Have I god dews for you!”

Bikle: “Ho god! What is it dow?! Wait a bobent what are you wearig?”

Buckle: “What do you bean?”

Bikle: “Your clothes Buckle, what are you wearig? Dis nice black cloak, pixie boots, sbart shirt, what is all dis?!”

Buckle: “I don’t dow what you bean Bikle, but forget about dat, did you dow you’ve been taken over by cousin Lawredce!”

Bikle: “What de fuck are you talkig about Buckle? Who is cousin Lawredce?”

Buckle: “He’s a large, berr subthig, he’s rather large yes dat’s it!”

Bikle: “By don’t dow about dat brother bine! I’b largest at de party rebember!”

Suddenly one of the officials comes over.

Antwerp: “Excuse me it is bird owners only in here I’m afraid!”

Bikle: “Yes Buckle you heard hop it!” but to Bikle’s dismay he realises that it is Mr Antwerp from the Lion’s Arms  who has changed shifts with Hornby is in fact talking to him

Antwerp: “I’m sorry mate, can you wait outside please?”

Bikle: “But I’b de bird owder! Pridcess Pribrose is bine!”

Buckle: “He’s a bonster really! You dow!” Buckle helpfully chimes in, “He’ll gobble you up, frif your dot careful!”

Antwerp, has had enough and weighing the scene between the smartly dressed fearful looking one and the distressed skanky looking one with the padded bottom, the choice seems clear.

Antwerp: “You out now!”

Bikle: “But by bird!”

Antwerp: “Out!”

Buckle: “Watch out bister Antwerp, don’t get too close!”

And so Bikle was removed from the registration tent whilst Buckle sat down to take his place.  Removed from the tent Bikle resolved to wait near the entrance so that at least he could see anyone coming and going and interfere with any nefarious happenings. From the opening of the tent, he could see Buckle and Buckle could see him. Buckle waved, but first Bikle looked angrily at him which made Buckle look terrified and hide behind the cage.

Bikle: “Ho god!” thought Bikle “By need a disguise…”He stands there pondering the matter, “Dow where cad I ged a disguise frob at such short dotice?” when his eyes fall on an adjacent stall: Cutler’s Novelties, Hours Of Fun Or Your Money Back!* A second asterisk heralds a disclaimer beginning “Well not your actual money back as such…” and continuing for several hundred words in small print. “Hbbb, I wonder, Bister Cutler, do you have ady fadcy dress costubes? I deed a disguise prodto!”

Mr Cutler: “Ooh eeeh? Want to change our appearance do we? Can’t say I’m surprised looking at you, not a handsome man really are you? Nature not been kind has she? And that outfit doesn’t help does it? Seen better days frankly, and even then not exactly what you’d call fashionable I’d of said, but only if pushed, still they say weshould be happy as god made us, although let’s be fair he must have been having an off day in your case eeh? Still suppose it can’t be helped, or rather it can, with a disguise perhaps?”

Bikle: “Berr yes yes a disguise, dat’s what I wadt!”

Mr Cutler: “Of course, of course, say no more, no really don’t say anything more, the mere sound of your voice sickens me. I mean certainly sir, and what kind of disguise would you be wanting? Something voluminous? Or not? Something daring? Risqué? Some hot pants and a disco wig perhaps? Really get people talking? Well I say talking, I mean throwing up and then hurling stones at you, and no bad thing if you ask me, not that you did, or had need to, but I stand by it, anyway what about a duck suit? No I don’t think you fit the bill.Fit the bill geddit? Ooh eeh good ‘ere innit? You’re tall and thin, I could dress you as a pencil? But then you wouldn’t see the point would you? So I suppose it’s not 2b. Good them weren’t they? Still this isn’t getting us anywhere is it? All joking aside, you are ugly, no no, let’s not get carried away, dog ugly. How about a bag for your head? Not as a disguise mind, thinking you might want to end it all, can’t say as I blame you in your shoes. Especially those shoes, so what about it then? Nice plastic bag, slow asphyxiation, not a bad way to go eeh? No? Prefer to drag out your disappointing and unsatisfying life a bit longer as a figure of mockery and ridicule? Your call chummy I suppose, now what was it you wanted again? How about one of thesenice jester’s hats? Got bells on it see? Jingle jingle? Add a bit of much needed fun to your dreary existence, also give parents a bit of warning, let ’em get their kids inside when they hear you approach, not that I’m saying you’re that way of course, far from it, but if the cap fits as they say, and there! Fits you like a glove, very mediaeval, call it a tenner?”

Bikle: “Do do do! I dod’t wadt a bloody jester’s hat, or ady of your dovelties! I wadt a disguise!”

Mr Cutler: “Oh a disguise is it? Up to no good are we? Can’t say it surprises me to be honest, well let me see, a disguise, a disguise, a disguise, what do we have for you that I won’t mind having to burn when you bring it back? Now now, be fair, couldn’t ask anybody else to pay good money for a costume that a wrong ‘un like you’s been wearing can I? What with the sour, mildewy, slightly faecal stench that seems to cling to your ungainly form eeh? Here it is, well I’ll be, if this isn’t the very thing! What do you think to that then sunshine?”

Bikle: “H’what’s dis? A shirt, black jeads, cloak ad pixie boots? But dat’s what I’b already wearing! Dat’s what I always wear!”

Mr Cutler: “That’s right, that’s the ‘Shit Bikle’ costume, been a surprisingly popular rental item lately, all things considered, funny the way things work out eh? That’ll be, oooh eeh, let’s just say whatever you’ve got in your pockets shall we?”

Bikle: “But dat’s dot a costube! Dat’s just by bloody clothes! Id fact, dey are actually by bloody clothes, you cad see de labels dat by bum sewed idto deb wid by dabe oddeb!”

Mr Cutler: leaning forward conspiratorially, “Now listen bumfluff, we can stand here all day arguing about this, more than happy to, but correct me if I’m wrong, you’re in a rush eeh? Every moment that you are away from your little yellow chum is fraught with peril eeh? Time is very much of the essence?”

Bikle: “Ho god yes, dod’t rebide be! By poor Pribrose Pridcess!”

Mr Cutler: “Exactly, alone,  unprotected, vulnerable… Normally just your sort of thing eh sick boy? But it’s different when it’s one of your own eeh? There she is, surrounded by ruthless, scheming rivals who wouldn’t flinch at canarycide in order to grab the top spot at this prestigious event, their fiendish machiavellian schemes weaving a web around her, yes a web, a web of DEATH! And what do you do about it? Nothing! You stand here, bandying words with me, arguing the toss about some old clothes, which I may or may not have stolen from your wardrobe, while that little ball of yellow fluff stands naked before the forces of evil!”

Bikle: “But but but Bister Cutler, I deed a disguise! Ad dose are just by clothes! I’d just look like be!” Cutler slams his fist down on the counter,

Mr Cutler: “Exactly! Exactly! And WHO IS THE LAST PERSON THAT THEY WOULD EXPECT YOU TO BE DISGUISED AS? Think man! Think!” Bikle’s eyes widen,

Bikle: “By god you’re right! Dat’s de last thig they’d be lookig for! Dat’s brilliadt!” He starts to strip off his clothes.

Mr Cutler: “Oooh eeh, not so fast sonny, aren’t we forgetting something?”

Bikle: “Ho of course! Dere! Dat’s all by bodey!”

Mr Cutler: “Thank you kindly, now go! Savethat poor canary!”

Hopping on one leg as he tries to put on an identical pixie boot to the one which he has just taken off, Bikle nods vigourously,

Bikle: “Ho I will, I will, thagk you Bister Cutler, thagk you! Hag od Pribrose Pridcess! Daddy’s cobig!”

Cutler watches him rush back to the registration tent and gathers up his discarded garments. He takes a long contemplative draw on his cigar before turning to a small brown creature perched on the till. “You know Coco old lad, in my game you don’t half meet some right tommy danglers, but that one there, that one is without doubt the biggest bloody idiot that I have ever encountered.” He turns and beams welcomingly at the next customer.

Mr Cutler: “Yes sir, and what can I do for you?”

Leonard: “Ah, ah would lak a Sheet Beekle costumesilvous plait M’sieur Cutlair!”

Meanwhile, Bikle bursts into the registrations tent at the same moment as MP Johnson. Buckle looks up, pleased.

Buckle: “Ho Bikles! Ab I glad to see you! Buncle Lauredce told be dat you’d beed rud over by a large obdibus!”

Antwerp is up again like a shot,

Antwerp: “Right!” he begins “Both of you, out!” but this latter part is lessened by the fact he clearly cannot tell who is the real Bikle, as the glamoured monstrous pelican Johnson looks of course identical in the minds eye and the real Bikle’s attire is now less shabby and more like that of Buckle. Antwerp does not have to worry about the matter long though as MP Johnson turns to him and with an action utterly incomprehensible to the glamoured eye makes him disappear with a muffled scream. Bikle and Buckle look at each other as the other Bikle turns a menacing eye upon them.

Buckle: “Yikes! A bonster! Just like de turkey said!”

Bikle: “By god you’re right Buckle, dere’s subthig dot right about dat fellow!”

In his fearsome flapping though Buckle now drops the clockwork bird out of his pocket (as of course he has utterly failed to remember the swapping instruction). The mechanical marvel twitters and hops in an impressive but not entirely realistic manner, however to poor Johnson’s impoverished notion of his aim, this appears his quarry. With a hearty shove, this other silent Bikle dispatches Buckle, who crashes straight into his brother and scoops up the mechanical canary before quickly disappearing out of the tent entrance from which he has come.

“Bohhhh!” goes the brothers, collectively as they land in a heap, with one of them positioned unfortunately to the rear of the other, all cloaks, hair and pixie boots, they huff and shout as they try to untangle themselves at which point Hornby returns and looks with disgusted dismay at the scene

Hornby: “Hmmph, this is not really appropriate behaviour for the birdshow Mr Bikle you know!”

Bikle: “H’what, I was just trying to get by brother off!”

At this comment Hornby appears even more revulsed.

Hornby: “I don’t care what you two get up to  in that flat of yours, but you should leave those antics at home, this is a family show!” At which point Buckle helpfully says

Buckle: “Bikle just gobbled bister Antwerp up you dow!”

Hornby looks at Bikle.

Honby: “And where is Antwerp now?”

Realising that to say he’s been mysteriously disappeared by a clone of himself is hopeless, he says the only thing he can think of.

Bikle: “he’s berr, gone to de toilet, yes dat’s right!”

Hornby now looks even more disgusted than previously as if his bathroom visitation is sordidly tied to the whole tale, but leaves the matter there

Hornby: “Right well I suppose I shall have to keep watch until he returns, I shall have to ask your brother to leave  though.” and turning to the correct sibling he gestures to the exit.

Bikle gives him some more coins and off Buckle goes, all the while issuing warnings about monsters and cousin Lawrence. Bikle settles himself back down next to primrose princess and has chance to review the matter. What was the mechanical bird that the other Bikle took away? Who was the other Bikle? Disturbed by the events but unable to fathom them in any kind of meaningful way he gives up and simpers over his canary some more. Suddenly there is a bustling noise and who should come in but Clancy, replete with cage, which he takes to the registration desk.

Hornby: “Ah Clancy, good to see you, I’m so sorry about Piers, he was a good friend of yours was he not?!”

Clancy: “Blblbllblbp yes, terrible tragedy, head blown clean off, never recovered from scaffolding incident properly, however bequeathed large collection of antique trousers blblblblblblp!”

Hornby: “Mm yes errm that must be nice… for you, do you have a bird to register?”

Clancy: “Bllblblbllbp certainly do, particular beauty, sure to win blblbp!”

Hornby: “Oho well I don’t know about that, I’m sure there’ll be some stiff competition” but then is sickened by his own words thinking of the compromising position he found SB brothers in upon entering the tent, he coughs to displace the discomfort “name please?”

Clancy: “Prince Primrose! blblblp!”

Hornby: “Really?!” The Turkey eyes him in a watch it sonny type way “it’s just we already have a Primrose Princess ”

Clancy: “Really!?” he repeats with deep perfect tones, to show how it is done “Blblblp coincidence, blblbp stranger things have happened, blbblblp like for instance, blblblbp mouse in your ear!”

And whilst Hornby struggles to remove the scrabbling mouse, Clancy takes up a seat near Bikle and places his covered cage down on a pedestal adjacent to ‘primrose princess’.

 

 

 

Published in: on March 11, 2016 at 4:54 pm  Leave a Comment