Damon is in his home studio, going over some tracks he'd laid down for the new Gorillaz album. When his mobile starts to ring. He ignores it at first, but it's persistent buzzing starts to grate on his nerves, so he leans over and finally picks it up. At first he listens to the sound of voices and the chink of glass, filtering it's way through the phone, before he finally says something to the unknown caller.

"Look, I can't talk to you now. I'm..." he hurriedly begins to say.

"Damon mate! How, how are things?" a gravely voice asks. Damon strains hard to hear, but finds it difficult with all the noise in the background at the callers end.

"Err, Phil? Is that you?" Damon asks, after a few seconds more thought, coming to the conclusion that the voice belonged to his friend and associate, Phil Cornwell. He leans back in his chair and rests his sneakered feet on the mixing desk.

"Err? Ahem, yeah? Yeah. Course it is." The voice replies, with just a hint of nervousness. Damon smiles and scratches at his five o'clock shadow.

"Look mate, you're gunna haffta speak up a bit, I can barely hear you. Lot of noise your end?" he half chuckles.

"Ohhh, right. Yeah mate, I'm err? At a friends party. Lots of booze, and err, stuff. You don't know them though. Ahem. Is that better?" the caller adds a little louder.

"Yeah, a bit. So how can I help you?" Damon asks, picking up a pencil and turning it over and over in his fingers.

"Help me? Weeell, that's nice. Eh, actually I was ringing to ask the same thing of you. Err? Jamie rang you see." the voice replies. Damon furrows his brow and stops playing with the pencil, sitting up a little in the chair.

"Oh? Um, I'm not sure I follow you?

"Yeah, yeah. Jamie rang and ahh, sounded a bit concerned. Said something I eh, I couldn't quite make out. Coz of all the crying. Something about an accident?" the voice replies, a little icily, but full of enough concern to make Damon drop his feet back to the floor, and stand up.

"Accident?!" Damon snaps sharply, his mind filled with dread. "Wot accident? Is Jamie alright?"

"Yeah, your accident. He blubbered something about having to get 2D a new singing voice, because you'd gotcher nutsack stapled to a table. Owed some money to the Yakuza, or some crrrap? Sorry to hear it mate. Mind you, you sound fine to me? By the way, what sort of a table was it?" the voice responds with just the slightest hint of a chuckle. Damon grits his teeth and grips the pencil so tightly in his fingers, that it snaps.

"He said wot?! I... I'll" Damon snarls angrily, through tightly clenched teeth.

"Yeah, that's what he told me. You know, he did sound a little drunk. Bah, but it was hard to tell. What with all the crying. You might wanna head over there, he sounded a little suicidal." the voice adds quickly with a subtle hiss. The phone suddenly goes dead, and the caller looks down at the droning receiver.

"That should stir things up a bit, heh, heh." Murdoc sneers, as he slowly drops the receiver back in it's cradle. Plunging his hands deeply into his trouser pockets, he saunters back across the pub and takes his place back amongst his friends at the bar, ordering himself another drink.