Dan Dan and the Noodles of Despair

Bingo Bill

Making their way carefully towards the entrance of Bill's castle Tiddlepuss and Daniel pass from sunlight into the gloomy shadow cast by a massive concrete overhang.

The imposing facade funnels them to a set of revolving doors which start slowly spinning as they approach. Walking through the doors, they instantly find themselves in some kind of loading bay area. Strew with crates and waste bins.

They look at each other in puzzlement, 'Not the normal location for a loading bay!' says Daniel.

Cautiously they inch towards an elevator in the corner of the space, checking left and right, almost continually expecting to be jumped by soldiers...but they are alone.

The lift doors open to reveal mirrored walls and a picture of rainforest foliage on the ceilings that plays tropical bird song. Slowly stepping in, Daniel presses the floor button marked Foyer which releases a musical fluster of mating calls and flapping wings.

Ascending to the Foyer the doors open to reveal a seemingly endless corridor with identical doors down each side, like a two-star hotel. A green and orange carpet with swirling brown flowers stretches to the far end, brown flock wallpaper lines the walls and a giant stags head looks down from above the lift doors.

Carefully they steel their way out of the lift. The corridor is replete with motion sensors that trigger cosmic well-being ringtones from behind the reproduction art of solarized fruit and burning vintage cars.

'Everything about this place is an anti-Zen nightmare of Dali-esque proportions.' comments Daniel. 'Anyone who stays in this castle for a prolonged period will end up hating everything from IKEA.'

'It would appear the interior designers were trying so hard to be hip; they quite failed to notice what they had produced was just plain awful.' observes Tiddlepuss.

A door opens further down the corridor, Daniel and Tiddlepuss duck behind a large palm tree in a stainless steel pot.

A room service trolley pushed by a small maid moves down the corridor and pauses at a large pair of entrance doors that swing open automatically, releasing a wall of sound. A tsunami of pounding disco beats roll down the corridor towards them. The maid enters the room.

Dodging for cover behind successive palms the pair make their way towards the still open doors, slipping into an expansive ballroom unnoticed. They crouch behind two large Grecian urns.

As the maid passes to leave the room, the doors swing silently closed behind them. Tiddlepuss swallows a silent feline gulp of recognition that they are now trapped.

Daniel peers from behind his Urn in surprise, the scene before him is a kitsch version of Jabba's palace. Large smoked glass chandeliers hang from a textured ceiling studded with mirror balls bathed in lurid green light. While a projection of a slowly spinning cross-section through a juicy kiwi fruit traverses the walls in an alluring fruity dance.

Bill, painfully thin, resplendent in Blue silk pyjamas is reclined on a voluptuous lime green couch with which he is badly clashing. He is flanked by his military strategists and favourite henchwomen the two fat ladies, and several generals and commanders from the army of numbers. Their swords and regalia sparkling in the pulsating disco lighting.

An original 70s jukebox with glowing columns of ascending bubbles pumps out distorted disco music. At the same time, a group of silver-clad dancers lunge and spin in front of him, their long blond hair swinging round and round in a peroxide blur.

Bill sighs, clearly bored, 'Eighty Eights, why haven't we heard from the detachment sent to investigate that noise at the garden?'

The two fat ladies step forward, 'No word from the garden as yet sir.'