"...that would be an ecumenical matter," concluded Dipsy. "You know, Laa-Laa, it's amazing what seventeen pints of tubbie custard can do to clear the head and marshal one's fluency."
"Sorry, what were you saying?" asked Laa-Laa, raising her big yellow head from the table and stretching and yawning in an exaggerated fashion.
"I don't know why those BBC cameramen keep coming back," Dipsy expostulated, "I mean, what do they want with all of that footage of us high on drugs anyway? Just because we happen to sing the odd nursery rhyme and run around manically when we're out of our heads on class-A hallucinogenics."
"Who cares, as long as they keep paying to feed our habits," answered Laa-Laa, apathetically recharging her own mug. "You know, maybe this custard's been fermenting a little too long. It's either that or you've grown another head."
"Well hello, darlings!" lisped Tinky Winky as he minced into the room. "You're such a sweetie to lend me your tutu, Laa-Laa. It does so set off my red handbag." He paused and simpered, "well, I can't stop around here all evening. I'm off to find someone who'll accept me for what I am." He tossed his head back and swayed provocatively in the direction of the door.
"What, you mean a transvestite?" inquired Dipsy sarcastically after his friend's back. "Where's Po tonight, anyway?" he slurred.
"You really fancy her, don't you?" replied Laa-Laa bitterly. "Ours is just a marriage of convenience to you, isn't it?"
"You're drunk, dearest," soothed Dipsy, "and you know that that was annulled."
"I may be drunk, but it's perfectly obvious for anyone to see that you're infatuated with that little tart," fumed Laa-Laa. "She just comes into this house with her skimpy rubber dresses and her seductive perfumes, looking for the slightest excuse to roll around on the floor with you. She spends more time on her back than she does on that scooter."
"Now, we both agreed that it wasn't going to be an exclusive relationship, so don't you get jealous," whined Dipsy, "and anyway, she doesn't usually go for men."
"Well, she'll get on perfectly with Tinky Winky then," giggled Laa-Laa, as she collapsed face- down in the alcohol-induced stupor common to Teletubbies. Soon she was snoring peacefully.
"At last," husked Po in an outrageous French accent from the bedroom, "I thought zat she would never pass out. Come 'ere, big boy."
But Dipsy too was already blissfully unconscious.
* * *
"Time for tubbie bye-bye," grunted the womble in the black ski mask and commando gear who was watching from behind a nearby hillock. The bomb he had hidden earlier inside the Noo-Noo's hoover casing went off and blew up the tubbie house in a mushroom cloud that was clearly visible for several miles. "That'll teach 'em to mess with the old firm. Close but no cigar."