Mike, a local X-man, street poet, and probably so much more, notices the hot chick entering the store and decides to start working on their relationship. He enters the shop, but there is no one there.
In the meantime, Connie and Albie try to move different things in front of the mirror, but nothing seems to reflect in it. The mirror seems to be showing a copy of the store, with no C&A but with a shady looking type entering it and looking around. They manage to attract his attention.
Mike notices something in the mirror. He approaches it, and suddenly the hot chick and the geezer show up in front of him, searching for something in the mirror.
Hyperintelligent Connie quickly realizes what has been obvious to the audience for a while (thus making them feel very intelligent in a homoerotic sort of way): the three of them are trapped in the mirror.
And then her mobile starts ringing. It's Havers. Is it not clear whether this is the result of the famous arcane connection between uncle niece, or just a general quality of microwave radiation, but it really is him, from the outside.
Connie warns him not to enter the store, and instead help her launch a flotilla of experiments. Understanding the nature of their situation is the key to changing it. Experiments held include:
Eventually Thomas sacrifices a shoe to knock the mirror down. He then drags it outside and places a mirror underneath it, which Connie uses to reflect her microlight in a positive feedback loop eventually causing the mirror to buffer overflow and throw everyone out as an error.
Instead of counting their good fortune and going home to sleep, as Mike does, the trio decides to take advantage of the full moon in favor of putting the Bristol Kid together again, a seemingly simple endeavor which starts with breaking in to the guillotine room at Madame Tussauds (closest London has to a gallows) and culminates in a dark ritual involving previously obtained Philip parts, cords of mandrake leaves to lash them together, and lots of environmental waxed horror. It is made clear by Albert's occasional bursts of explanations that full-moon-and-mandrake is the chicken-soup of magic, the oldest, commonest and most potent folk-medicine there is. It is also, as is fitting to the field, highly unpredictable. And indeed, just before it gets finally clear whether or not the ritual has worked, the ritualers are surprised by a muttered chatter in french and the sweaty glisten of candle light on wrinkled wax brows, as the old ladies knitting at the guillotine raise their knitting needles and prepare to strike.