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The new millennium. Finally everything and everyone in the band was loaded with motivation and ready for the long expected global breakthrough. It seemed as though the world of rock n' roll was about to take a deep breath before an ultimate storm, the ragnaroek of sound, the second krakatau - before the merciless, earth-shaking onslaught of the Bulting Batons. But then, out of the blue, as some kind of bitter punishment from the jealous gods of rock, something else broke out - the Disease. The world tour had just begun - the newly acquired jumbo was waiting as Acid Explosives collapsed at the airport without warning and didn't wake up until four days later, knocking on the lid from the inside of his coffin. 58 gigs were cancelled (even the one at Rokkipubi), lawyers started visiting the boys again and Johnny and Raymond started using poison, inhailing toxic blossoms. Rocco killed his pet turtle and Jack Scumm found a good excuse to return to his drinking habits. The second age of darkness had not only begun, it had erased the memory of all the good times too. The weeks went by. Mr. Explosives recovered and found - once again - a band without money, gigs and with only 20 gallons of booze, smuggled in the nut sack of Johnny. Don't ask how the booze was taken out of his pung.