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…
Mwaaerk! 
I have to ask, why no 12?