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  

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