A group of midgets stand around an old tin coffee can, spitting into it and smoking foul midget-made cigars that would be large for a normal sized contestant.

“Fook off, dick'ead,” spouts one of the midgets, “'Dis is a private meetin', like.” Another gratingly squeaky voice pipes in, “Yeah, scram ya fookin' dick'ead!” Thus begins a chorus of snickers and shouts of 'dick'ead' from all assembled.