Dead Horse looks cautiously round the room - there's no sign of Kay - and he doesn't get offers like that from ladies (let alone LTS) every day. He staggers over to her, "OK - GET EM OFF" he shouts seductively.
He strikes what he thinks is a manly pose and removes the last tatters of the basque. It is only at this point that he realises what the ravages of the Bearmat Demon and Camo the tortoiseshell cat have done to him. He is quite unable to raise a stuttered monologue - let alone anything else.

Liz takes one look and a high-pitched squeaking sound of incredible volume fills the room. All the animals rush out of their nearest doors, several patrons fall to the ground unconscious, and the Klein bottle hanging on the Christmas Tree explodes releasing the two PEL inspectors. "Christ" says one "What was it that Mr Howells said about the racket that one unamplified performer can make ? - we better get the environmental people down here as well". They rush out of the southern hemisphere door straight into a christmas convention of funnel-web spiders.