There wuz me, ur humbel narrator. That is, Ronald W. Horton... And there wuz my droogan drumble partner Paul Smith; Paul Winston Smith to be precise. And, along with our 2 droogie musing musik makers, Patrik and Marko, we thus bekame pitiful portable piknik players... toying with hair-raising musikal novelties and nymphets by evening... and wandering... wandering the Riviera kuntryside in our Meteor '68 by twilight... And we wondered as we wandered.... by what misnomer shall we be referred? Namewise speeking that is... it troubled us deeply.

Then, one evening when the stars alined in our favor, a dreem kame to me with a most unsettling image: That of a man... standing on a flaming kookie... with a grate kompelling voice bellowing forth:
"From this day forward, my droogan frends, U shall be receeved and nowan as 'Guttersnipe' ".
"Guttywhats?", I replied.
"Nay", sed the man, "GUTTERSNIPE".

So it was sed, so it was ritten, so it shall be dun.
Reed On Dear Reeder, Reed On...