Act II Scene III

[Good evening. You will experience a strong sense of dredger view. Not only will you be re-introduced to several of your favourite pantomime characters from earlier in the story, there's a whole section where some of the strange creatures from Act I come back and recite exactly the same lines as they did the first time, just in case you weren't paying attention. What were we thinking? It seemed like a good idea at the time. Perhaps Beckett could get away with it (no, not Samuel Beckett, I meant Sister Wendy...)]
 

...And Ruth Creased The Yellow Curtain
ACT II SCENE III

(This is going great, isn't it? - The same garage forecourt, three-and-a-half hours later. Enter A Different Mole Who Looks Like Robert Louis Stevenson.)

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LOUIS STEVENSON:
Raspberries walk
Shanks's politician-style
Like adulation
Through a pinefield.
Arches of lost pantheons
Try to put me off
By wearing marked hats.
Crossed spits air over the massed shingle
Of dew-fogged promenadians.
The purple quotation mark of finality
Won't speak to frogs
Unless wearing a crash helmet.
Chrome-vanadium pastures devour cows
On a sleep failing.
Tog up Frankenstein's mistress,
In the Yukon, crows evaluate
Slowly.
Rabbits ignore considerations of Ginsberg
Filled with water.
Hope the lights will soon turn
Into blazing chickens,
Rita Book!

(Enter Mrs McVitie, pursued by fake looking B-Movie Aliens)

FAKE LOOKING B-MOVIE ALIENS: (in unison)
We're Deviants from beyond the void,
We speak with ESP
And we'll blast you with our laser beams
And cover your fridge with grease! Fade!

(Enter Simon "Rosko" Diggermix and Gordon)

SIMON "ROSKO" DIGGERMIX: Oh hello, Gordon! It's nice to see you... There's something I wish to ask you!

GORDON: Please ask your question, which I may answer, if it is within my capabilities...

SIMON "ROSKO" DIGGERMIX: I'm sure you're capable...

GORDON: Well then... I'll answer! Please state your question... Speak out your inquisition...

SIMON "ROSKO" DIGGERMIX: My question is of importance... Es ist about diejenigen Hosen?

GORDON: Mein Hosen?

SIMON "ROSKO" DIGGERMIX: Yes! Your trousers!

GORDON: (sings, to the tune of "Streets of London")
Have you seen old Simon,
On the streets of Munich,
Peddling guns and passports
To the Bader Meinhof Gang?
He supports the Red Brigade
And he's handy with a stun grenade!
He's a right-wing fascist bastard
In a world that doesn't care...

(Exit Simon "Rosko" Diggermix and Gordon) 

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Raspberries walk
Poison seeps from the open wound
Of licensed puberty.
Houses Erectus
Ride lateral saxophones
To entropy.
Recline like a speck of dirt on the highway,
Don't ever make a blanket
Crates of lazy bastions
Use bastions on John,
Rakes hunt fibreglass tourists in a toads digestion.
Need a good spanner?
Try the Forth Road Bridge!

MRS McVITIE: You don't scare me, you senile hulks of pangolin dirt! I have two deadly jet rocket blasters, hidden in special silos in my Psycho Zoom Corset!

(Enter Master Of Ceremonies Craig Hearn, unceremoniously interrupting)

MASTER OF CEREMONIES CRAIG HEARN: (addressing no one in particular) Do you want to see the eight lovable chins from Newbury, eh?

FIRST ALIEN: Mrs Lorraine McVest! You are a devil woman!

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Unfold
Untold
Spartan Afghanis,
Jailed in Ad Nine and soaked
In an aubergine Christmas.

SECOND ALIEN: Let's play "Martian Newspaper Headlines"... You can be "Wereem Kilitrenic"... and you come home to find your sports page reading "Raltcon Zip Hilarvo, Zammut Code Lyplammuting Ig!"... You remind her of the words of "Labbo Kazone", which read "Kilik Hindus On The Hilde..."

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Raspberries walk
As far as I'm concerned,
Rover's a blind name
For a quintet of braces.
Cocker pythons slither through Hoopfaced Borisses
And emit a glaring sigh,
Sounding like, "Pillar Knees! Pillar Knees!"

MASTER OF CEREMONIES CRAIG HEARN: (Talks to chair) They're on next y'know...

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Buy fog now
And get off with a squirrel
As only a wet baby can!
Rin Zilli Tongo
Is the Afghan feeling
Of being attacked by savage balloons...

SECOND ALIEN: Come on, Mr Bimbo! Let's make a real humdinger of a smell and destroy this Wonder Wench! Fade!

(FX: Fake theatrical fart noises, you know the sort...)

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Raspberries walk...
Sign away two weeks of someone else's enhanced euphoria.
Jackie O'Nassis tells her story exclusively
To the Slate Island Rain Colony Gazette,
Advertiser & Chronic.

MASTER OF CEREMONIES CRAIG HEARN: (Talks to wall) We'll have to stop meeting like this!... No... I'm only kidding... You really are a smashing audience... You're not from Rent-A-Crowd are you?

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Shining Kiwi!
Grant Kontiki!
Hargo Trine The Limpet!
Elastic Herbert waved Lucky Bags underwater...

FIRST ALIEN: There you are, Mr Starcupboard! We have destroyed the Earth... Goody goody!.. with one good blow-off! Heh heh heh!

SECOND ALIEN: Yes! Ha ha ha ha ha ! Echo! Ha ha ha ha!

MRS McVITIE: But no! You stinking menaces! I still exist! And look behind you! Fade!

(FX: Cacophony of raspberries)

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Raspberries walk
It's Magic!
A new way of unzipping snails!
Serious talk
Featuring
Big Bang Theory
The Expoding Universe affects
End Of Story
But whale meat again,
As the record says,
Don't think - Write!

MASTER OF CEREMONIES CRAIG HEARN: (Talks to curtains) I had a friend once... I did, honest, heh heh!... I had this friend who got a job with one of those Rent-A-Crowd outfits... Mind you, he only got the one job... Heh heh! He was the audience at a Ken Grindle Show! Heh heh!... Reckoned it was the hardest twenty pee he ever earned...

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Stoves in labour with raiding halibuts,
Ready to rack up Indians.
Where do cheese straws lose opinion boats
To pop-up coffee?
Dustbin of empty tins.

(Exit Mrs McVitie, hand in hand, Julie Andrews-style, with one of the Aliens)

A DIFFERENT MOLE WHO LOOKS LIKE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
Raspberries walk...
Aggravate the only tall building in Senegal.
Tardboard Carbuck opens the slow-release valve
To reproduce quiz-show emcees,
Sparrows lie like croupiers
With self-adhesive robot harlequins.

MASTER OF CEREMONIES CRAIG HEARN: (Talks to fishbowl) Now let's all sit back and relax to the sound of sweet music... Ladies and Gentlemen, the hottest harmonisers in Britain today, The Skelton Twins!

(Exit in disgust, A Different Mole Who Looks Like Robert Louis Stevenson, on crutches, his face being daubed in bright green paint by one of the remaining Aliens. Enter in Triumph or, failing that, in an Austin Allegro, The Skelton Twins)

THE SKELTON TWINS: (tune of "Siegfried's Idyll" by Richard Wagner or "Happiness" by Ken Dodd)
Techudin Pronounced Tequadin!
Techudin Pronounced Tequadin!
Techudin! Tequadin!
We are the Ker-nights of same!
Techudin!
Techudin!
We set cereals on flame!
Techudin!
Techudin!
We are naughty
And worse!
Techudin!
Techudin!
We never get prezzies
From Santa Clerse!
Techudin!
Techudin?
(humming tunelessly) Mmm mmm mmm mmm!

A SOLITARY SOLO SKELTON: (sprechstimme) Geography? Home, Sick James!

(Exit The Skelton Twins. Enter Richard and Maddy Pryor and their small child, Snooky.)

RICHARD & MADDY PRYOR AND THEIR SMALL CHILD, SNOOKY: (reciting in unison, like in church) Gravel has a future... Saliva has shreed protector. Bumbelina was the Arkin Clove, the Three-Feek Lever Chastites, The Cleaver Sleet of Charm, The Gilded Slat of Quarm... Lady Godiva increased through the shallow melody, her horse-tail sniffer hung aloof, as predicaments shovel down Victorian skyscrapers. Hooga parades thumbs, kiting fire-worms. Cholesterol sellers' carts, cheating catburgs by the million, an Anglican reservation, a flinch of thumb, an ankle-archer's raincoat...
Flimsy farmers' falling faces...
You can take coal to Newcastle, but you can't make it jump,
Woh woh yeah and again!
Stilton Rinstead and again!
Finest feathered moondust and again!
Oval go-go Royalists and again!
Reepicheep, own a frequency, Thumbathumb, own a yard!
Flaxen Acto-Sherbs and Serbo-Cruets
Silk-axe perbolees versh a steertip, crumbling on high!
The Baroness of the Desert impressed us with her bleakness
And our shores are being washed by a great notion...
Versatility the Hun!
And somehow, I feel we are killing some little part of ourselves everytime we turn off the radio...
The story of a dead brain
Trying to come to life,
Oranges of the Species?
The grimy juices of the American centennial,
Vagaries of the common mutant
Eating butterfly yoghurt.
At the height of the party,
A golden eagle was trampled to death
On the dance floor.
Armagidee-Up-A-Ding-Dong!
Her entry was like a lounging bug dropped into a still pool...
For the man who has everything;
Individually monogrammed cornflakes!
The Fruit-Faced Stilletto is
At the moment,
A name without an amimal!

(Exit Richard & Maddy Pryor and their small child, Snooky, unnoticed. Enter Mrs Harvey, a tall and bearded female impersonator, and her son Jack. We hear the end of their conversation)

MRS HARVEY: Look Jack, my son! Let's settle this with a knife fight in the car park... but no lunges to the face, mind you!

HER SON JACK: No, Mother, let's not maim each other over this trifling Chrimbo matter! Let's compromise! We'll ask Santa for a Tardis with a built-in lavatory!

MRS HARVEY: (poking him with a bony finger) You're a clever child, Jack, and no mistake, Dave!

(Exit both. At the other end of the stage, we see part of the garage forecourt transmogrify into a facsimile of Santa's Magic Fun Factory. Various Winky Underlings mill about and busy themselves, doing whatever it is that Winky Elves do in Magic Fun Factories. Santa Himself is seen reading a scrap of Studio 6's scruffiest notepaper)

SANTA HIMSELF: Ho ho ho! What have we got here? Ah! A letter from the Harveys of Ordinaryville? They want a Tardis with a built-in lavatory? Head Winky! Have we got such a grand gift?

HEAD WINKY: No guv! But we've still got all those red GPO boxes...

SANTA HIMSELF: Bloody good idea! We'll fob 'em off with one of those!

(Through the magic of "stagecraft", the Santa's Grotto bit of the garage forecourt fades to darkness and the other end of the stage now reveals itself to be the Harvey's living room on Xmas morning - Isn't "stagecraft" magical, kiddies?)

MRS HARVEY: The reindeers have drunk all the sodding paraffin! And there's no sign of our gift!

HER SON JACK: And they've eaten all the turkey! What a swizz! (addresses audience) Oh children! We are so unhappy... And on Xmas morning!

(An overlarge plastic telephone descends from the ceiling, ringing.)

MRS HARVEY: Answer the phone, Jack!

HER SON JACK: We haven't got one, Mother! You said they give people spots!

MRS HARVEY: Answer it all the same, dear! It is Xmas day!

HER SON JACK: Righto Mother! Um... How do you do it?

MRS HARVEY: When it stops ringing, pick up the receiver and say who you are.

HER SON JACK: Righto Mother!

(The phone continues to ring for a boring length of time - eventually it stops ringing and Jack picks it up and talks into it)

HER SON JACK: Who you are!

MRS HARVEY: (addresses imaginary audience of seven-year olds) What was that, children? (pause) Yes, I know Jack has the brain of two-thirds of a stuffed aubergine!

(The phone rings again)

MRS HARVEY: The kids say to answer the phone while it's still ringing... How ill-mannered!... but give it a try...

(Jack picks up the phone)

HER SON JACK: Um... who you are?

(We hear the voice-off of the Genie of the Handset) 

VOICE-OFF OF THE GENIE OF THE HANDSET: (voice off) Hello? Is that young Jack Harvey?

HER SON JACK: Um... yes?

VOICE-OFF OF THE GENIE OF THE HANDSET: I am the Genie of the Handset and you may have three wishes, Jack!

HER SON JACK: I wish I could meet my favourite star of stage, screen and Daily Mirror, Uncle Cyril The Kiddies' Favourite!

(There is an impressive flash of theatrical-grade pyrotechnics and there stands Uncle Cyril the Kiddies' Favourite and his intrepid sidekick, Ulex Ulex the Inflatable Gnu)

UNCLE CYRIL THE KIDDIES' FAVOURITE: Hello kiddies! It's me, Uncle Cyril... and look who I've brought to see you... That's right! It's Ulex Ulex the Inflatable Gnu! Let's have a volunteer from the audience... Up here, come on... What's your name then?

HER SON JACK: Conan the Dragon Slayer, Uncle Cyril!

UNCLE CYRIL THE KIDDIES' FAVOURITE: Hello Conan! This is Ulex Ulex... Ha ha ha! That's the wrong end, Conan! Did you have Sugar Puffs for breakfast, Conan? See... I'm a mind reader, heh heh heh! ...anyway, you've got breakfast all down your front, heh heh heh!

HER SON JACK: That's my Bros Terror of the Snakes Picture Disc Logo Super Cravat, Uncle Cyril!

UNCLE CYRIL THE KIDDIES' FAVOURITE: What do we all need? That's right, everyone... spoons! Everyone grab yer spoons and join in!

(He sings his song, to manic advanced non-rhythmic spooning from all present)

UNCLE CYRIL THE KIDDIES' FAVOURITE: (sings to the tune of "You Need Hands")
You need spoons
Oh! Neo-Birmingham Omelette Show!
Hey mate! The scene's got a yellow leg,
The scene is squinting lengthwise at its own superb existence
Raschizchovkov Omelette Coleman!
I say Sponge! Speunge! Speunge! Speunge!
Coeleocanth and die!
Are you insured against the depredations of a rogue cockateel?
There's a real mean dude from Hong Kong
At the door, Mum...
He's looking for Dad...
I think it's about the lettuce...
Obvious frogs!
See me with obvious frogs!
In damp countries
They eat a fruit called a Raingage.
Similarly
We kicked huge blue iguanas
Into life
And started hunting
For the Assorter! You need spoons! Yeah!

(Huge applause from the imaginary audience of seven-year olds)

UNCLE CYRIL THE KIDDIES' FAVOURITE: Heh heh heh! There was this bloke... and he worked at a French Polishers'... and one day, he found a picture of Ava Gardner in his locker... so he said, "Who put this picture of Ava Gardner in my locker?"... and this little boy pipes up... Heh heh heh! "I dunno!"... Heh heh heh! Thank you and goodnight!

(Uncle Cyril and Ulex Ulex disappear with another impressive demonstration of the art of theatrical pyrotechnology)

HER SON JACK: (to no one in particular) Wasn't that great everybody?

MRS HARVEY: I want a wish now! After all, it's my present as well... (grabs phone) Hello? Mr Genie?... He's bloody hung up!

HER SON JACK: Look in Yellow Pages, Mother... under "Lovable Pantomime Characters"...

MRS HARVEY: (leafs through phonebook) Let me see... "Limbo Dancers"... "Liposuction"... "Log Salesmen"... "Loofer Hire"... "Lump Hammer Suppliers"... Ah! Here we are... (Dials number and waits) Hello is that the Genie? ...Can I have my wish now, please?

VOICE-OFF OF THE GENIE OF THE HANDSET: (voice off) Yes, of course you may, my dear! What'll it be? I'm sorry I hung up, but I was bursting for a jimmy...

MRS HARVEY: I wish I could tap dance like Ginger Rogers, sing like Val Doonican, yodel like Frank Ifield and quack like George Formby!

VOICE-OFF OF THE GENIE OF THE HANDSET: What? All at the same time?

MRS HARVEY: Yes?

VOICE-OFF OF THE GENIE OF THE HANDSET: Go on then!

MRS HARVEY: (hoofing and singing)
Paddy McGinty's goat,
Duh da duh dad duh!
You've never seen anything like it!
Yodel-ay-ee-tee!
Quack!
And Rafferty's motor car,
In the windmills of your mind!
Yodel-ay-ee-tee!
Quack!

(Enter Simon "Rosko" Diggermix, panto villain-style. Boos and hisses abound.)

SIMON "ROSKO" DIGGERMIX: Ha ha hah! What's going on 'ere? ...Eurgh! I 'ate Xmas... it's for pansies!

MRS HARVEY: Pooh Bah and no mistake, treacherous Simon! Get back to Her Majesty's lock-up, this minute! Look! You've upset Jack!

HER SON JACK: (grizzling) Boo hoo! Xmas is an enchanted time... sniff sniff!

VOICE-OFF OF THE GENIE OF THE HANDSET: (voice off, remember!) Never mind, Jack! Here's a picture of some crested newts!

(A picture of some crested newts drops onto the stage)

HER SON JACK: (suddenly cheering up) Cor! Thanks, Gene!

VOICE-OFF OF THE GENIE OF THE HANDSET: Genie, not "Gene"! I'm not a crazy-quiffed rock'n'roll sex machine... (pause) ...But then again...

(The Genie of the Handset manifests himself in person for the first time, looking for all the world like a low-budget Shaking Stevens, in a silver lamé tuxedo and enormous pompadour de la rump du canard)

THE GENIE OF THE HANDSET: (sings)
Well! It's one for the money!
Two for the show!
Three for Mrs Harvey!
Come on, let's go!
Let's go!
Let's go to the pantomime!
You can do anything
But miss the pantomime! Yeah!
Spot the disembodied car
And win a happy time! Yeah!

HER SON JACK: (spoken aside) Come back Alan Breeze, all is forgiven...

MRS HARVEY: (sings)
It's Four for the cast
And Five for the crew!
Six for something else
And away we go...

SIMON "ROSKO" DIGGERMIX: (cutting her off mid-stanza) Silence! Shut up! I want to eat a systems analyst, my stomach is rumbling! (rumbling FX) That gasometer I had for breakfast went straight through me!

(Offstage raspberry ripple effects. A scary snake enters)

SCARY SNAKE: Stop that man! He's a credit card swindler!

(Sudden curtain and lights down. A brief, darkened pause, then the lights go up again to reveal loads of characters from Act I Scene I sitting arround, smoking klerns and scratching their arses, as if waiting for Samual Beckett to turn up and write them something to do. They carry on in much the same manner as before.)

ROBBO SPIPES: Fetch me my Trike-O-Ethylonic Kardinly... Sorry! Only my pipe!

BLUE ON PALE YELLOW: As you can see, this diagram holds the key to existence... If Yuri wells up the Farnetoloraine Islandbestos, we're elite!

ZYKOOZ ZILK T'ZAH ABKA FUTCUK JUNIOR THE WONDER FISH: No! No!

LENCH THRIPPAHENCH: Yes! Yes!

TRUM CORBETT: So after that, the limpet was blowtorched to surrender... If only Mama could see us now!

POPE GREGORY: React to my nasal sounds, The Stuffed Fillmore Seal! Slide wet banana-geese between shiny potassium chutes...

THE STUFFED FILLMORE SEAL: I, and only I, knew what the Navy wanted! Quickly, I removed the raccoon cage that stole surreptitiously towards my mother... purely on the off-chance of seeing a Loaded Soap Creature!

CRYLEX THE HILLMAN: You see gentlemen... that sentence has carried us to the edge of the world... Only the Marble Civet Cat can answer the thrice-requested question, "Am I really the Photon Digitoid?"

(Enter Beau Tharne The Stirrup... was he in Act I Scene I? I can't remember!... Beau Tharne The Stirrup rushes forward, only to be spurned by a self-sufficient squid)

A FRENCH MOLE: (screams) I'm loaded!

NARTHOR: (retorts) Even better!

THE FORGOTTEN RUNG: Opulescent Stirrup Tetrylchlorocaribou-Leoleo, Carnex of Plates!

SCHOONER JIM: We look through the water globe of arterial life... vedanta through the black smoke of the burning Rome... we see Nero & The Spiders In Jars, playing the Death March Latin-style!

DESERT THE MOLE: (shrieks) No! The only place for a Babbitt is a crutch!

THUMBS CLAGGAMILK: (bleats like an Esconule Rapier-Onyx Corgon) Pune! Pune!

ROBBO SPIPES: (retorts like a different squid fisherman) Piss off!

BLUE ON PALE YELLOW: Deep, deep, is my only crayons face!

ZYKOOZ ZILK T'ZAH ABKA FUTCUK JUNIOR THE WONDER FISH: If only Logan was here... the cargo could be contained in his Omnipresent Pouchorographica...

LENCH THRIPPAHENCH: (stoons not unlike Eamonn) Three Dead Moths of Detention barned at the cablecart... Infirm Ma-anations, it may be, but it's my life!

TRUM CORBETT: (also stooning Eamonnly) You unnecessary device of a knife-craners bolus! Grapple with me, would you... you... you...?

POPE GREGORY: Only if you want...

CRYLEX THE HILLMAN: Dogger Bight of toad-slime! The ever-ready Ed Crappit-Lizard, stringer to a nation...

A FRENCH MOLE: Discie! Discie! My banjo container's been bitten by a snark-trap baiter's son!

NARTHOR: The candle-moulder lerbed with the grace of a shrimp-net, then snapped off at the face!

(Crimp McCoy erects the goal apparatus. He bends double, limps badly before the court, then he passes out.)

THE FORGOTTEN RUNG: (murmering) I'm not a well... Excuses! Excuses! Stab your goat?

(Rip Nolan unveils the huge beast, only to be trapped, yet again, in Gonad's Amazing Trick Walnut Exhibition. He bites the lozenge pedlar good day, then plunges his genitalia into Crushed Unabili Voyeur Soup)

SCHOONER JIM: But Dad! Marlon only crushed the cat in a fit of self-abuse!

DESERT THE MOLE: (screams) Tank Love-Toys!

THUMBS CLAGGAMILK: So like those tame neo-decadent ballistrades!

ROBBO SPIPES: The sharp implement tatooed a nifty bird-lime stain on D'Bus!

ZYKOOZ ZILK T'ZAH ABKA FUTCUK JUNIOR THE WONDER FISH: Only if you wanton, sire!

LENCH THRIPPAHENCH: (quoth as Eamonn's twin, Lindon) But Marshall! Cat-skinning is a great turn-on for the Sol Hogwash Fan Club...

TRUM CORBETT: It may well be... but only if your ducks' eggs knew...

POPE GREGORY: So... he's Jewish... I'd still feel safer performing violent lacerations about a movie director's anal regions...

CRYLEX THE HILLMAN: (piercing shriek) No! Not Anti-time! From Edith's womb-support and marrow-shaver?

A FRENCH MOLE: (cries like Little Algie) The Bishop's address was a soupier thing... It was "Mavis Cront, Fifteen Blit Gardens, Avé Maria, Dungeness".

NARTHOR: Posturing like a famous halibut-fondler may not pay well, but it sure beats chapped hands and vet's fees...

THE FORGOTTEN RUNG: Jasmine perfume has seeped into my nolan gland... Touch the galactile lozenge to escape the cortége...

SCHOONER JIM: Firmly we grip the wailing implement...

MR YEA HEAVY AND A BOTTLE OF CHRYSANTHE-AUNTIE ESQ: But no! Degradation Emporia bite through Presley's white cowboy truss... Come on baby! Unzip the French Prime Minister's oval cuttlefish with me!

(Violent Carson hangs upright once more from a military pole, craving the wet kiss of a pompous stadium.)

DESERT THE MOLE: Every picture waits to taste the whip, when handled by the Marquis de North Baddesley... We beep hooters, in a vain attempt to move the lion-tamers who queue, relentlessly, between slices of bread and dripping, in our front room...

THUMBS CLAGGAMILK: We pile apparatus against our mouths, but words disguised as lame pelicans hobble out of our nostrils. Roll back the red carpet... brush the corgis under the lino, remove all emblems of retired Twyla Tharp-ites...

ROBBO SPIPES: (like that giant sodium lamprey) Leggins the Cat! Leggins the Cat!

BLUE ON PALE YELLOW and ZYKOOZ ZILK T'ZAH ABKA FUTCUK JUNIOR THE WONDER FISH: Message from base, sir!

LENCH THRIPPAHENCH: Punardian capsules have landed, sir!

TRUM CORBETT: Rita Tushingham has been invaded, sir!

POPE GREGORY: But sir! Those aliens have wives and kiddies at home!

CRYLEX THE HILLMAN: Rita Tushingham has been invaded!

A FRENCH MOLE: Rita Tushingham has been invaded!

NARTHOR: Rita Tushingham has been invaded!

THE FORGOTTEN RUNG: Go float in a bucket of liquid X-rays, face-ache!

SCHOONER JIM: Draw Jimmy Factotem across your own Hot Appalachian Tissues!

MR YEA HEAVY AND A BOTTLE OF CHRYSANTHE-AUNTIE ESQ: Don't stop to think... just get out on that stage and say, "Moon Gantry between Milateral Guk will save the starving mullions!"

DESERT THE MOLE: The music goes round and round and it comes out heard...

THUMBS CLAGGAMILK: But that's your naso-lachrymal gland, sir!

BLUE ON PALE YELLOW: Let it be known, throughout all Hastings, that I, Alexophiliac, Ruler of All The Galaxies, Ovate, Bard and Maker of the Great Duodecahedron That They Use As A Prize For The Best Easter Bonnet, never eat dutch eel with the batter off...

ZYKOOZ ZILK T'ZAH ABKA FUTCUK JUNIOR THE WONDER FISH: Heave on the capstan, me lungies... Heave up the anchor... we're leaving this Liverpool... leaving this black den of people with drawing pins in their eyes...

NARTHOR:
We hope for help, we cope with kelp, but cry for a contact...
We rope-a-dope, we hire-a-fire, we use the modern analog,
"The Canadog is Oper Flog!
Flog Dog Cab Agricultureen,
Flag Dab Rab Cultureen!"
Between transmissions, I see peace,
Wallaby-fur peace, collar bee for ogre-stretcher
Chris P. Packet!
Chrispian stretcher koto fee my diet Energen!
Energen and again
And genitalic we must treat them!
Treating traders,
Drinking drapers,
Like a total team of tailors.
Like tartan tanks in testing times,
We panic in the sundial...
Like leaping lions, slightly sick
Of something we can count on...
Counting candy in the canny, stirring cannister or cauldron,
I called on all the corded candy Fornians
To canter on towards the dam,
The counter-measures guarantee
The time we need to see the spam...
The Canadamsel on the camelÕs carousel, cans damsons
In the enigmatic shell of wan divide attention...
"I cauterized!" she smiled, the room went up in glory...
Your mind is numb!
My guide is dumb!
I now can end my story! Thank you!

(Thus we witness the destruction of all comprehension... All those Leftovers In Pullovers from Act I Scene I now leave the Garage Forecourt in solemn procession... By the way... a message from Neo-Gastric Realism Communications... Jimi Hendrix phoned while you were out...)