Dancing George The Obese Eskimo, Final

          'And may we have the first contestant please!' the herald boomed.
    The first entrant was Pangborn the Ventriloquist with his penguin puppet. Out he stepped across the ice-plain and right onto one of the wafer-fine patches of ice whittled down by George's tumbleddried, gritcovered, thermallongjohned spinning derriere the night before. KER-RAK-SPLUSH! And in sank Pangborn and his penguin puppet like a slapstick comic tumbling down a manhole . 
    'Well, one of you fishermen is going to have to fish him out, but the Eskimo King and Queen haven't got all day, so Pangborn will have to be disqualified! Bad luck, old chap!' decreed the herald on behalf of the King and Queen, who both gave a thumbs-down signal. Thank goodness his father, Gunther, was right at the back of the crowd with his lucky rod, thought George, otherwise Pangborn would be out in no time and might have been able to resume before hypothermia set in! 
    And so, as the less flukey fishermen near the front of the crowd tried to hook Pangborn whilst the ventriloquist kicked water, the second entrant, Smingleglax the ice cellist, plodded onto the great ice-plain with his cumbersome ice cello. And low and behold, wouldn't you know it - KER-RAK-SPLUSH! Into the subterranean frigid sea plunged Smingleglax. Again the more misfortunate and  maladroit anglers near the front had to cast their lines into the ice-hole to save the cellist, and again the impatient Eskimo King and Queen  gestured their disapproval by the 'pollice verso' most commonly associated with Roman emperors, as the hollering herald hurried proceedings along. Well, two more KER-RAK-SPLUSHES later  had resulted in the chilly dunkings and disqualifications of Ross Calex, the telekinetic ice-cube mover, as well as the snow lynx and hypnotist, Whizbra DeLaFarge, whose act entailed mesmerising volunteers from the audience into eating bowls of snowshoe hare and butylated hydroxyanisole-flavoured moggyslop on all fours, as if George Galloway in Celebrity Big Brother. Alas (well, except for George), no-one was to watch these most wondrous artistes today. 
    It was the moment for our young rotund prancer to step up to the plate,  watched from the sidelines by the other four debarred competitors, their teeth cha-cha-chattering as an Eskimo Guard was dispatched to commandeer some tumble-dryers from another village to defrost their now ice-crusted garments, seeing as the tumble-dryers in the local launderette had all mysteriously melted the night before.  But how was George to dance or even waddle across the ice-plain now it had a quartet of hulking holes in it? His first move was to  cautiously waddle a few metres out onto the glacial flat that served as a stage, before rolling himself up like a woodlouse and clumsily cartwheeling into his funny little Eski-doughboy breakdance. Oh no, not another one, collectively grumbled the crowd, as George  recklessly and inexorably veered towards the nearest of the four breaches in the surface of the ice-plain -  what a ruptured rink it had become!
    But, as the Royal Eskimo Couple's thumbs had already begun to waggle south, who should suddenly pop his head out of the hole but Eel the seal! Eel caught the morbidly obese little Eskimo on top of his snout like he was a blubbery beach ball, effortlessly balancing and rotating George on the tip of his nose, before flipping him back onto the ice-plain where the Eskimoobed human marble continued his breakneck breakdance. Just as it looked like George was going to plummet thru the next aperture in the ice, Eel's snout again emerged for him to safely pivot upon like a basketball on the end of a Harlem Globetrotter's finger,  before the seal sent gyromaniacal George sliding across the ice-plain to the next hole, where they repeated their dunk-defying acrobatic double-act.  This routine went on for many thrilling (tho' never spilling) minutes, the crowd at first engrossed in mute marvelling, then breaking out into cheers and whoops and coos and whistles and applause and superlatives. The Eskimo King and Queen stared at each other with an impressed smile, then simultaneously gave George and Eel the maximum of four thumbs up! Jubilation! Rejoicement! Celebrate good times, c'mon! Wily,  mildly cheating George had won the Grand Talent Competition! 
    Eel batted George over to the outskirts of the ice-plain where he eventually rolled to a halt. After understandably waddling in circles for a while, waddling off his dizziness, George trotted over to where the Royal Eskimo Couple lent against their golden snow-tufted carriage (in a somewhat casual fashion for the Arctic's premier power-couple, I must say). The Eskimo King was even smoking dried and shredded bananaskins in a novelty bananamorphic pipe! Their most trusty herald, the one addicted to decibels , respectfully yelled at our redcheeked and puffed-out, morbidly obese winner, 'Now, young man, you can have two prizes, whatever you so wish, one from your King and one from your Queen. So, pray tell, what are your heart's two greatest yearnings?' 
    'Your Royal Highnesses, I humbly request these two favours for my prize. Firstly, that the Inuit fishermen desist from piercing the sleek flanks of our fellow Arctic-dwellers, the seals, harpooning them into seal kebabs. I ask this in recognition of Eel's outstanding contribution to our national life today.'
    Tho' there were mutters of umbrage from the crowd, even from George's dad who was partial to a seal sausage, the Eskimo King upturned his frostbite-black gorilla thumb to indicate that George's first wish had been granted the Royal 'Seal' of Approval (unlike that joke!).
    'And what shall you select as your second reward,  dumpy dancing ickle Inuit?'  the herald questioned the dumpy dancing ickle Inuit..
    'I'd like liposuction please!' asserted George, to which the most pulchritudinous, most benevolent Eskimo Queen Victoria Fries responded with a shinily nail-varnished, shapely thumbs up. And verily did the Eskimos party all night, drinking Slash Puppies and hot froggies, riveted by a spirit of romance when their King and Queen took to the icy dance-floor but didn't slip over, for their steady steps were lashed together by those invisible vines of mutual grace called love. Also, being a gorilla, the King had a low centre of gorravity! And a few days later, George flew to a clinic in California for liposuction and upon his return to the Arctic, he surrendered to the Funk, could be its slender, elegantly convulsed ragdoll  without so much as a hairline fracture in the icy floor whatsoever. And Eel received the seal equivalent of the Nobel Peace Prize, for his  collusion in George's chicanery had set his 'seaple' free from the hazard of being speared and seared, killed and grilled. But even the most ardent carnivores amongst the Eskimos didn't give an 'anaq' ( Eskimo for 'shit'), because, hey, there's always plenty of fish!