Meanwhile, back at the Pub, Billy the Kiddo was having a Guinness.
"Right!" said Fred "You're too Sexy for my Bar. I want you to go ............."
"Far, far away!" trills Rose, "Plenty of room at the Hotel California....!"
"It's a Long and Winding Road" adds Fred, alweays eager to help.
"But only Twenty Four Hours from Tulsa!" adds Rose, not to be outdone.

Billy stands, looking from one to the other totally without any hope of understanding any of the sparkling wit flowing above his head and beyond his limited powers of comprehension. For him, this is a natural state of affairs.

Charles raised his voice once more.

"I say, you chaps....!"

The Sound of Silence.

Nothing gained, nothing ventured ....

Here we go again ...........

"Play the game, what?"

This happened once before:  no reply

"Don't you think you could .... untie me, or something?"

Fred suddenly looked up at this last plea, as if hearing Charles Parker-Bowles Spencer for the first time. He looked at the pitiful specimen as if examining a particularly repulsive object which smelt as if it had been left unwashed, unloved and unwanted in the hot summer sun until it had ripened beyond the point of putrefaction.

Rose paused in mid-polish, not noticing that the acid dripping from her cloth was carving deep craters in the wood of the  bar counter.

Dropping the cloth, she reached behind her and took a bottle from the shelf. With an elegant, practiced gesture she tapped it gently on the edge of the sink to produce a musical tinkle as the glass bottom dropped out and in a delicate pattern of sharp cutting edges.

"Did just say 'Please Release Me', my love?" she asked, looking lovingly at Fred.

"I'm a Believer" Fred replied.

Charles seemed anxious to please, now.

"What? Oh, yes! Spiffing jape, don'cha know ... now, if you could only see with my eyes ....What are you doing ....?  No, nooooo   !"

His final gurgle  dies on his lips as blood flows from his severed carotid artery and pools at the base of the Maypole.

"Seeeeerve him roight!" grunts Fred, swinging a cleaver and removing the head with a single neat stroke.

"Anyone 'oo dares sing any Englebert Humperdinck rubbish in THIS pub deserves everything 'ee gets .....'Please Release Me,' indeed! Next it'll be Max bleeding Bygraves, if we're not careful ............... !"