So, our story starts in an 1896, red-brick, Victorian row-house, right on the road, with a toaster.
(Bluntly put: I hate this town- Citizen's Advice advised me to get out.)
Kenzie comes round with his Multi Map, missed call, ayahuasca, tripped out limo with a swimming pool.
(Tell Stealth Bomber to try and calm down, we're on the M5 now...)
Pylons in the foreground become nothing but a blur, whilst the plyons further away from the car are moving much slower.
(European standard expressways- 3x3 lanes and dual carriageways.)
We planned for everything ridiculously meticulously, and then we drove off of the dock into the estuary.
(The light said 'go' before the dock had met the ferry... SPLASH...)
In the water and it was bloody scary...

Fishes, fishes! I've never seen so many varied friends and enemies coming together to cleverly cobble together whatever the fish pretend to do whenever they're under less pressure.
(Look at us just looking at you, being fishy on BBC2)
Test, test, this, this, star, starfish looks unreallistic, I don't get it, I don't get it, I don't get it...
(Silly, starfish don't exist! We can't use this- children won't believe it.)
Fishes, fishes! I've never seen so many! Oh great... It's a giant spider crab, I hope it doesn't encapsulate the car and drag us all away.

Say, say, Mr, Mr Crab, s'sorry about this. We understand they're processed fish-sticks, not crab-sticks.

'I'll make you wish you were never born when I come crabbing at your door.
I'm bringing on out my crown of thorns and an army of ghostly king-prawns with suits of armour on.'

(This crab comes out of his cave and he's making it tricky for the victims caving in and brickin' it and shit...)
(Whump up- love up whee, wham, jumpin' up jellyfish...)

Jigged, jagged jaws. Sand-papery shark with triangular teeth and tentacles from jellyfish shoals digesting other smaller creature's mouthfuls and swallowing tank-full's of plankton and algae and coral and sand and it's sad to drown surrounded by such stunning sea-lifelessness now we're dead, dead, dead, dead, DEAD!

Our lives are just bubbles and float up and float up and may the angels take us away from this strange place.

Oh, we'll find happiness wrapped up in the abyss- cushioned by the sea-bed, searching for a sea-shell, in which to dwell. Our watery grave. A Supersoaker-after-Sea-Life-Centre, anyway...
It's better now we're all dead; my head was in the she'd before and it was raining...
(Now we're sitting pretty at the bottom of the sea... PLUSH...)
With the mermaids, having a cup of tea.
(Fishes, fishes, fishes, fishes)

Oh, fishes, fishes! I've never seen so many varied friends and enemies coming together to cleverly cobble together whatever the fish pretend to do whenever they're under less pressure.
(Look at us just looking at you, being fishy on BBC2)
Test, test, this, this, star, starfish looks unreallistic, I don't get it, I don't get it, I don't get it...
(Silly, starfish don't exist! We can't use this- children won't believe it.)
Oh great! It's another tidal wave... I hope that all of these CGI swordfish don't get swept away...
So, so, come and see us now- pay us a visit. It's easy to get here but you'll get your clothes wet.