Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

-Cool. Let's hear it then. -Now go easy, 'cause this is early days.
What did I tell you before, huh? What goes around comes around.
Put away those fiery biscuits!
Me, you and Carlos Santana hoovering for six weeks.
One and a half minutes?
♪ Clockwork Margaret skating on my mouse mat
You know, it was the '60s, you know, free love, we were young.
That was a misunderstanding, I was naked, it was dark,
Let us begin our quest to find the new sound.
-Well, we shall see. -Listen to me, Rudi.
♪ Gonna make you scream Gonna make you whine
It's letting in all kinds of mambo-jimbo.
♪ Travelled every single road Turned over every stone
Put away those firey biscuits
(fox howls)
He doesn't ponce around the desert in a dress.
-What is this? -It's the tears of Mozart.
You expect me to believe this?
-I don't know what to say, Rudi. -Don't say anything, just go.
You cannot put all of the blame on top of her head.
Your name?
(FAST HEAVY METAL SOLO)
The backstage pass test.
and make love, until I fall over in the dirt, and then the next day I do it again, you know.
(FUNKY CLAVICHORD, SPIDER HUMMING)
Who?
♪ We are looking for the new sound
I too love pigs.
But I know there was something about you. Something in your eyes,
It is a place where it is written that a musician may find the new sound.
(HISSING)
Sneaking around in the dark like some kind of pervert.
-Oh, my pancreas. -Feel the power of my fusion lick.
♪ Gonna jump all over your body
He has an allergy.
and let it stew in its own reverb for about three hours,