THROUGH the dirty windows of the North Yorkshire bus shelter there was no mistaking the shape of its most colourful resident yesterday.

After a six-week stint at Stockton's Holme House Prison, where he was sent after a drink-driving offence, town vagrant Mel Bird was once more ensconced in his favourite market shelter in Leyburn - along with his dogs, Storm and Patch, and his pal John Donnan.

As the icy wind whipped around Leyburn's market square car park, the Hertfordshire-born 58-year-old was on good form in the shelter, holding court as he clutched a can of strong lager.

With a rolled up cigarette in his nicotine-stained fingers and his brown leather Australian bush hat pulled down to keep out the cold, he said he had expected the shelter to be locked upon his release from prison.

"We were told it was going to be shut the minute I came back, but it wasn't. All I want is for them to open it from the first bus at 7.30am until the last bus - about 10.30pm to 11pm - and to keep the toilets open," he said.

Mel's troubles with Leyburn Town Council are legendary. The council has made numerous attempts to keep him out of the shelter, including locking the gates. But members found he held court on a nearby bench instead. At night, he sleeps in a caravan about a mile outside Leyburn.

Mel was sent to prison for six months in October after being caught four times over the drink-drive limit at the wheel of the D-registered Volvo he'd bought with some of the £7,800 he inherited from his late mother in April. The Volvo is understood to still be in Tesco's car park in Northallerton, while the police and Mel argue over who has the keys.

Yesterday, he said he still has the money and another £53,000 he inherited from his late Aunt Hilda, who died a few days after his mother.

"I'm a posh dosser," he cackled, as he rolled another cigarette. "Until my health goes, I'm going to live on the interest - all I need is my living expenses. I pay my stamps, so my pension is the right size."

Much of his spell in prison was spent in the hospital wing and from his battered leather jacket he pulls out a postcard of a tramp trying to tug on his holed boots which states: "It keeps getting harder to reach my feet".

"Have you seen this? It's good isn't it? I'm going to send it to the nurses," he laughed.

As Christmas approaches, he is aware the council may lock the gates to the shelter again, but he points to the bench he will sit on outside the market hall if they do.

Yesterday, the town council was hoping for some evidence of "rehabilitation" after his prison spell.

A spokeswoman said: "Although the gates to the market shelter will be left open for now, the council will keep an eye on the situation and see how it goes."