Now who do we see before us - a razor-thin vixen, a sassy mouthed strumpet, a well oiled trollop. A sickly red smaer of a mouth with the lips slightly parted. Dipsy smiles. Tonight has been an astounding success... She MUST thank her everloving audience! She readies herself hands on the microphone stand, hips thrust forward at the ready. And comes a bubbling a burbling a ginormous thundering reaches its way upwards crawling slowly stealing up long mucal passages. A pained look crosses Dipsy's face. This sudden pause capture's the audience's attention - their heads all swiflty whipping 'round in the same very direction. A vast wave of rotten juice and slimy mud rolls furiously out of Dipsy's tiny mouth. The onlookers gasp in horror and pathetically try to protect themselves. But the hellish tsunami flows on and onwards until there is nothing left. The room is a charred mess of broken bones and espied on the stage is an empty sac with remnants of nylon-like hair, nails and teeth sunken in the still quivering mess.