Tonight. The. World. Will. Change. For. The. Better. Forever. The words flashed up one-by-one in pink on a vast projection screen at the back of the stage.
As the cloud of dry ice cleared, two dancers dressed in inflatable, spiky, sun costumes began to jiggle about in the spotlight.
Shards of light from two enormous glitterballs revealed a herd of 20 adults in furry animal suits, including, it is alleged, Mark from The Levellers dressed as a bunny rabbit.
Welcome to the world of The Flaming Lips: Rock theatre at its quirkiest.
Singer Wayne Coyne bounded on stage - a better-weathered Billy Connolly, in white suit and shirt - to the swooping chords of Race For The Prize, smiling from ear-to-ear, his arms raised in exhultation.
Brandishing a smoke machine like Leatherface held his chainsaw, he pummelled the packed venue with smoke before grabbing a loud-hailer for a chaotic take on the White Stripes' Seven Nation Army.
After 20 years in the shadows, the Lips hit commercial and critical success with their most recent two albums, sprawling psychedelic anthems recalling ELO and Neil Young - tackling such profound subjects as mortality, emotional robots and Manga cartoon heroes.
But live they are even more astonishing. As the fuzz of Meg and Jack's finest moment faded, Coyne picked up a nun glove puppet and pushed it into the mic, mouthing along to the words of Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots: "She's gotta be strong to fight them so she's taken lots of vitamins."
The 90-minute set took in tracks from the two most recent LPs, early hit She Don't Use Jelly and a throbbing version of Golden Path, the recent collaboration with the Chemical Brothers.
The gorgeous Waiting For Superman was dedicated to Elliot Smith and sung to the freakish Teletubbies sun-baby, sinking on the video screen.
Between songs, Coyne - his face streaming with fake blood - blew up more huge, confetti-filled balloons and gushed with evangelical fervour that we were the greatest crowd he had ever known. He does it at every show. He always means it.
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