there was this one time back in 86, trekking through the outback of australia, just me and my panasonic ghetto blaster, when suddenly i was set upon by twelve blood thirsty kangaroos hell bent on killing me, then raping and eating my corpse. i had to think and i had to think fast, the first thing that entered my head was playing a game of hungy hippos, that was no good, i had to think better, more relevant to the needs of my situation, i chose to serve those mother fucking killer kangaroos with moves like no-one had ever even dreamt of. i pressed play on the boom box and BAM, herbie hancock - rockit . i moved perfectly in time like the inner clock workings of big ben. they got well and truly served. it was game over and they knew it. i won. i won good. they immediately fucked right off and and attacked a film crew doing crocodile dundee. thank fuck herbie was queued up, as i had fleetwood mac - albatross up next and i've got no moves for that. no moves at all. herbie done saved my life.