Now let's get one thing straight. Just because we're men, it doesn't mean we once didn't like the Muppets. It doesn't mean we weren't secretly moved by the passion between Kermit and Miss Piggy. And it most certainly doesn't mean we didn't get on down to the impossibly arhythmic bangings of Animal. Good. Now that's settled, we can move on.

Animal, as one dimly recalls from all those Sunday evenings watching ITV in the 1970s, is a drummer. But not simply any old drummer. He's the meanest, baddest and most maniacal skin-basher on the planet. And that's really saying something. Think of Keith Moon meeting Buddy Rich with a hint of John Bonham thrown in for good measure.

To this potent mix of fiery personalities and raw talent, just add hair. Lots of it. A pair of mad eyes. A red nose. Scarily angular teeth. A pink beard. And a bear chest. And there you have it. Animalistic perfection in an 8-inch frame.

Then, it's over to you and a world of possibilities. Will Animal turn his back on his previously limited vocabulary and begin to recite Wordsworth? Or will he do what he does best; bashing those skins, ranting uncontrollably and raising hell? Let Animal loose and the decision is yours.