As I lay in the recovery position, some comfort was had from listening to Mr Key's wireless messages. The flame-haired temptress transferred them to something called an 'mp3 player' and I'd urge you to do the same.
You should, if you're paying attention, be familiar with Mr Key by now. If you missed this vital information, then pop along to his Hooting Yard interweb electropage forthwith.
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