The flamingo with the upside-down smile has been caught flat-footed, trying to dance while standing on one leg, and falls (with style!) gracefully, missing barstools, the jello pit and the old lady, landing softly on the guano-covered hairball which, to be fair, he'd mistaken for a cushion or beanbag chair, turning his smile upside down, which confuses the ghost of Stephen Jay Gould, who's been hovering anywhere the bats aren't flitting.

Our particular bat, trying to pretend not to be laughing hyenacally, runs like that last sentence and quickly flits back upright to avoid having guano run in some even worse way. The rapier wit flicks a clean (ish) bar towel to the flamingo, turning his frown back into an upside-down smile. Stephen Jay Gould leaves, thumbing a ride with a panda and Sissy Hankshaw.