So after the legendary "Grandma incident" and spending six months in the i.c.u, our friend, The Big Bad Wolf decides to go back to his old stomping ground, The Woods, in a little place called Noid, near Bath, England. It's the kind of place that'll bring a tear to your eye and a lump in your trousers.

One day, out on the prowl with an involuntary spring in his step, he hears the voice of an angel, far, far away and decides to investigate. He has to walk for hours into the deepest, darkest and most uninhabitable area of the woods, each mile bringing more clarity to the voice and her filthy accompaniment.

He can hear guitar riffs that sound as if they've come from the claw of the devil himself, horns that sound like they're being played from a marching band, hell bent on calling up the old masters and basslines that talk in the kind of way that you would never repeat to your mother.

He begins to walk quicker, more excited and more eager to discover the dirt and the filth when suddenly, he comes to a clearing and to his suprise, who would you imagine he saw?

You guessed it! Little Red Riding Hood! but not on the mic. No, she was cutting a rug like the way you see the possesed in those anti-Angel Dust infomercials..................... and she looked good! Good enough to eat......again!

His hunger side tracked momentarily, as he looked at another little hooded minx with four of the most ill looking s.o.b's he had ever seen......... and making the kind of noise that could wake the dead with an orgasm.

Rocking a falsetto like a taylor made suit, the one they kept referring to as Swaby steps up to the mic wearing nothing but a Dan Taylor guitar line, a Big Daddy Spence bass and a Chris Ellul dirtbag, drum break and good God!!!!!!!!!

The sound was iller than a man on a death bed with bad karma sat on his chest, waiting for the Reaper to arrive. "This kind of sound should be illegal" he thought and with that began to howl his way through a chorus. The howls from the wolf led the band into a frenzy and when finished demanded that the howler show themselves.

Red looked astonished to see the wolf as he sheepishly made his way out of the bushes and huddled up to her cousin, Little Hannah Collins, who was wielding her trademark axe like the way she holds her own on the abattoir offerings made by the fire and the fury that is The Heavy.

The wolf was quick to get on his knees and apologise for the last time he'd seen Red. The woodcutter had done a job on him but nothing like what Red's cousin would do to him if he was about to get his growl on. He wanted in and he wanted in badly.

The only way, after much deliberation and clauses concerning the eating of family members, was that he, the wolf would join them on the task of taking New York. They figured that when you got a wolf howl on board, alongside some of the most murky, filth ridden, disgusting and......well, let's just say, plain out of order, beats, riffs and lyrical content..... well you got The Heavy turned up to 11. That,s the way they walk it and the only way they talk it and as you're about to find out....... they ain't once upon a time.

King Louie. The Heavy biographer.