Roger wasn't paying attention to the screaming, arms-flailing Nose in front of him. He decided to pull a "John", and stare at the wall.

"Are you even listening to me?!"

"Not bloody likely..." he mumbled at a pitch even John might be envious of...

"NOT BLOODY LIKELY?!?!"

...or not.

John scowled at Roger. How DARE he steal his bit! Well, he'd show him.

John twirled his bass around his head, by one string, much in the style of Roger twirling his mic.

Keith, not wanting to be left out, decided to take over Pete's place. He jumped down from his drums, and started to have a hissy-fit, right in the center of the studio.

Pete, slowly realizing what was going on, stole some of Keith's cherry bombs, dumped them on top of his guitar, and stood back. He smiled as he watched the now-smoldering guitar. He then let out a wild laugh, and downed a whole bottle of brandy, a.k.a. The Water Of Life.

The Water Of Life rejuvenated him, and he forgot what he was yelling at Roger for, in the first place.