[Growltigger]

The cantina goes quiet. A small troop of Gregorean monks shuffles in through the swing doors and proceeds to sing a paen to the glory of GT whilst he was alive.

The FBW's, all dressed in black leather catsuits and veils, are sobbing. Barry is howling outside the cantina, the Byzantine horde of mongooses is chittering in sadness, Abdul and the Berber horde are wailing and a gnashing their teeth. The cast of Friends have stopped acting like pillocks for once and are looking solemn.

A priest turns up.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of one of the most dynamic, wonderful, caring and beautiful people ever to have graced this universe. Poor Growltigga was foully murdered by that wretch Dogscoff but fear ye not, although he is dead, has shuffled off this mortal coil, has passed away, has popped his clogs and has gone to ponder on the infinite, he will live long in our memories....."

End funeral, a solicitor now turns up.

"Ahem, time to read the will"