[ The sort of broadcast that you would expect from a pop station or a gimmicky talk show goes warbling through. The host speaks in a low and sleazy drawl, accentuating all the wrong vowels and consenants so that he causes the most amount of ruckus with his voice. ]

Murrrrrrrrdoc Niccals here, world-renowned bass-slaying false icon hailing from the funkadelic foursome -- the Gorillaz! Well, not much of a foursome now, innit? Stuck in a place like this, I doubt I'll be enjoying any kinda' foursome for quite awhile, if you know what I mean.

[ The kind of laughter that is shot straight through the nose haunts the broadcast then. Obviously, the speaker has no trouble laughing at his own jokes. ]

And that isn't an invitation to change m' mind. Now, I've been through this quite a few times already, so I know the type. I expect everyone to be on their best behavior, all right? Allllllll right! Now what was I saying?

[ Tap, tap, tap goes his brittle nail against the microphone. ]

I'd remember quite a lot more if it wasn't for this furious headache. Is there somebody out there awaiting my requests? Even if there isn't, HELLO? Spare an old friend some cool drink, yeah? You lot'll never know when the time might come that you'll need a good back-scratching from me . . . and I'll end up remembering this kind, kind favor.

[ Though it's muffled, the sound of a weak and tiny whimper can be heard. ]

I'll remember it even better if it's rum.