I woke up dreaming on a tuesday, picking a rambunctious nosegay. A big ol' floppy-eared rabbit sang me a song and I smiled at the sun and he said, 'Let's get it on!' I carried on my way across the field so green, with only a fox with the pox inbetween. I offered him a cigarette; he offered me a light. He was pretty hammered. He was looking for a fight: Apparently a badger with an uzi and a dagger got a gang of evil scientists to fashion a device; a device, such a sinister, savoury dark minister, capable of carnage on a biblical scale. I got onto my blowerphone and rang the other guys, told them to bring all of their expertise and come in disguise: We've battled evil pop machines but now we're *not*. I thought we'd done it just in time but.... What's that coming over the hill?Approaching me against my will? Not on spice but set to kill; if the drugs don't get me, the badger will!I turned on my heels and then I legged it. The crisp was quicker than expected. I lost it in the forest and collected a hundred gold coins from a walrus in a suit. He gave me safe passage to the nearest little village, where i'd meet up with the reprobates and concoct a plan. On the road I came across a flock of beagles in a van and I offered to drive them because they had nee hands. We reached the little village (We were just in time for tea), where I met up with Mr Wood, French and G.I.B. We dined with the general of the animal army - my oh my he was a vicious little *squirrel*! Eight buckfasts passed; we were singing songs. Mr Wood got kicked out the bar for one too many *crackers*. We forgot why the *heck* we were there in the first place...we didn't really care though... What's that.....? OH MY GOD! We picked ourselves up and then we dusted down and turned around to see a trail of destruction and poor Mr Fox was squashed by crispy blocks! The animal people were devastated by the loss and they were very cross. That fox meant a lot to me. I comforted the llama, lemur and Pete Doherty, headed for the tavern and got Wood out of the tree, went into the tavern and we had a cup of tea, armed ourselves with instruments and dropped *our cups of tea*. We flew the funky theremin into the badger's lair. He was waiting with the giant crisp; a feather in his hair. The scientists were shooting at us with potato guns, so we shot at them, the noise of which resembled dying suns. Making our approach with the ROCK at the ready and a steady target locked on the badger's greedy belly: Coming up now, a reconstruction of the way O.P.E.N. *really* ROCKED when they saved the *lovely* day......

All of the noises that have been close enough for any one of us to hear. And Primus.