Rebus was born on the banks of the River Mbomou, four thousand two hundred and fourteen years ago. For many years did he sit and wait the coming of the Great Capper of Warwick. But alas, he never came. Then, one day, a transmitter radio fell from the heavens, killing his cousin Jeebus. From the transmitter radio eminated many strange and unusual sounds. Rebus tried to imitate such sounds, and eventually, managed to grasp the powers of speech based only on what he heard.

Two years later, on a cold and blistery night, the cruel and foul-smelling robotic arms of the Ste+fa.no-vi.c snatched the transmitter radio away from Rebus, determined to assimilate the device into its own ghastly and wrong person. And so still, if you're lucky, and on the right hallucinagenic drugs, you may find yourself wandering the deep forests of the Congo Basin, and you may think you have caught a glimpse of Rebus wandering its dark borders aimlessly. For he does so, every night, crying out with futile shrieks, all the things he came to learn from the transister radio. So in the night if you hear the shrill cry of a "How Come?", "Your Time Is Up!", "Assault!", "The Labour Party Goes AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!", know that it is the cry of the Rebus.