Motormouth quipster colonel who welcomes the Tap to an ill-advised gig at a dinner-dance for military personnel at his sterile air-base.

"I'm a big fan of your music," he insists. "Not your music specifically but the general style..."

"I need a haircut myself," he joshes. "Better not get too close or they'll think I'm part of the band..."

But seriously, folks... He wonders if the band could maybe kick off with a couple of slow numbers so he can dance...

Cue 'Sex Farm'...