Dingles: \"Oi! Fight fair!\"

"Sure, just let me make sure my guitar is in tune," replied Dirk. He
held out the guitar, lined up, pulled it back, and whacked the
mechanical parrot across the bar and out the door. "Sorry, bub. I'm
a solo act."
Ding picked himself up from the deck and made an admirable attempt at
regaining what little dignity he had - being a mechanoid and all -
and immediately began plotting violent, bloody and most likely
explosive revenges against the bloated sack of protoplasm that had
reduced him to a mere guitar pick.
He scuttled across the floor and back into Parrots, hopping up onto a
stool (quite some distance from the swing of the guitar) and resumed
his heckling. "Oi, nutwit! R is for Rectum! You should make sure you
know how to spell it when you're filling out your insurance forms
with 'Had glass jar violently inserted into said orophus!'"
Sufficiently pleased with himself that he had made a fairly decent
comeback for a device that was produced by the good people who had
made Talkie Toaster, he began a short victory dance on the
tabletop. "Left, right, centre, I am so much better, up, middle down,
that fella is a clown!"
(Tag! You're it, Dirk!)