Nixta Sinks

Loizou moments before passing out in his own vomit

At Cambridge Crown Court yesterday, alleged "Portuguese Tramp" (actually a Cypriot artist, restauranteur and neologiser) Raynose Loo-ee-zoo cheated the Crown Prosecution Service in yet another flagrant example of Charles Clarke's failure to control those damned thieving foreigners.

Dressed in nothing but two second-hand oily dog-rags and delicately placed daubings of Ultramarine to provide some semblance of modesty, presiding judge Lord Lupin DeFeverille-Gnat was taken away by janitors and replaced with a fresh clean judge from the rack, Justice Charles "Polly" Howard of the Mill Road Judgers.

The following is a rough transcript of the proceedings. Some sections have been omitted for the sake of fuck:

Judge-babes: This court is in session in the case of The Crown vs Renos Loizou.
Prosecution: Your honour, me lud and all that, is there... er... a chance we can er... adjourn or whatever you call it?
J: Why?
P: Er. Well, you see, none of our ASBO criminal witnesses are here and half our lawyers are tripping out. We have the police out and about in Soham trying to round them up, but even if we do there's little chance we'll find the witnesses.
J: Hmmm. No. You've had a year and a half to prepare. We're not wasting any more of anyone's time, and I want to get home before lunch. Now piss off and sit down.
J: Oi, defense boys over there, Oscar old chum - you won't have anyone to cross examine. That a problem for you?
D: Well, we might get a bit bored, but no, not really. I can take a nap.
J [Turning to Mr. Loizou]: Has this man been sworn in?
Clerk: Yes me lud, quite a bit.
J: Excellent. Are you Mr Renos Loizou of no vaguely respectable abode in Soham? [Mr. Loizou, dressed in a long leather trenchcoat, a cravat around his neck and a wide-brimmed hat upon his head looked up from rolling a cigarette, a tad miffed at having been interrupted]
RL: Yes me lud ole chips and all that. I is in da dock!
[Sniggering from the clerks and the judge]
J: Quiet!
J: Now then, Mr. Loizou (or may I call you Renos)?
R: No, you Kunt with a capital K. Who do you think you are?
J: Sorry, of course. I'll get straight to it then. These people haven't turned up. Your barrister and I will retire with the persecution to discuss matters and get pissed. Please wait there.
RL: OK ole bean, I'll wait here. And wait of course. And take my banister with you. But don't take too long coz I want a fag and that allo-allo-allo with the 10-foot forehead over there won't let me light one in here.
J: Sod it then, go outside. We'll come and find you in a bit.
RL: And a bit, innit?

"Ta taa, ole chips" added Renos as he wandered outside, followed closely by the sound of knuckles dragging on the floor as the gobsmacked neaderthal po-leece lumbered after him.

With that the prosecution and Renos' solicitor joined the judge in his chambers:
P: We want to charge him with a firearms charge and affray.
D: Piss off, Mr. Loizou wants no criminal record.
P: OK then, we'll drop the firearms charge if he pleads guilty to the charge of affray.
D: All right, you old cock, don't you understand English? Polly, does this man understand English?
J: Rarely, petal, rarely.
P: Er. OK. Tell you what then...
J: No, here's what we do. We give Renos Loizou a bind-over for a year in the amount of 750 nicker, and you piss off. Oh, and also, you can pay 40% of his legal fees.
P: But me ludd...
J: Shut it.
P: Yes, me lud.
J: Now, who's for a game of snooker?
D: Yeah, all right.
P: I'm going to the pub.

Mr. Loizou was found outside chatting up a lamppost and painting a couple of quick nudes. He's now back in Soham and drunk as a bastard, being interviewed by the national press and Newsnight. Nobody knows why.

His dog, Igor Raskolnikov was unavailable for comment.