At the third try, the cellar door opens witha soft thump. A strange aroma part animal, part stale beer, pervades the room. Through it appears a banner showing a Heath-Robinson pancake machine, the banner lurhes slightly with the shuffling gait of the gnomad which is bearing it. Wild-eyed, hairy, confused and very evidently the source of the aroma, it surveys the room and company with caution.

Seeing no immediate threat it closed the door, and shuffles towards the petfood, muttering.

"Wonder how long I been asleep in that dive...talk out low, and I've been to some places...talk about snow and ice don't usually bother me, but that duck...Try not the pass, it said... but a six foot duck, in red trousers...must know sunp'n, or was that old man ribber?"

gnomad looks dubiously at the petfood, then at the presents beneath the tree, pauses, then rummages ia a carrier marked Google. Placing a beautifully hand-crafted blickie marked "Merry Christmas Gluon" gnomad dusts his hands.

"Excelsior," he remarks, to nobody in particular and spotting the door marked washroom, lurches towards it.

"Food, need food...better get cleaned up first though or they'll toss me out for sure...up i dee, up i dah..."