What better way to mark the arrival of our 10th anniversary than by crafting an overblown, self-indulgent, self-referencing load of self-aggrandising noise? Well, loads of better ways, probably, to be honest …
It’s said the only certainties in life are death and taxes, but what about sickness, suffering, solitude, and the fact that your favourite show will always be cancelled while “Mrs Brown’s Boys” gets another shitting series?
Are we there, yet? We’re bored, tired, and the only thing keeping us from leaping out is the fact that we’re travelling at 117mph. Well, that and the bloody child locks are on. I swear, if this isn’t over soon, words will be had. Rude ones.
Are you lonesome tonight? Are restrictions too tight? Is the lockdown just driving you mad? Have you stuffed yourself full? Bored right out of your skull? Have you lost whatever grip that you had? Don’t worry. You’re not alone.
Look, we know that we’ve been away for a few months, but we’ve got a REALLY good excuse and, while we are loathe to play the organ failure card, we do have to say: ORGAN FAILURE. Unexpected, moderately inconvenient, dropped-out-of-the-sky organ failure.
They are often referred to as the “thin blue line”, although many have implied over the years that the line might in fact be somewhat thicker. Not us, of course … we’d never stoop to making such a crass insinuation.
It is often said that Christmas is a time for peace on Earth, and goodwill to all, but it seems that neither the year itself (or a substantial number of people living in it) have actually gotten that message.
Hey, kids! Stop snogging, and pay attention to me! ‘Cause if you’re a wild-eyed loner standing at the gates of oblivion, then hitch a ride with us … this really IS the last freedom moped out of Nowhere City. Don’t tell your parents!
We’d like to take the opportunity whilst announcing our brand new song to reassure our friends and relatives that this song is not, in ANY way, about you … unless, of course, you don’t share it, in which case it is TOTALLY about you.
Journey with us to a decade of flared trousers, energy crises, and cocaine abuse as we bring you our very first song; “Disco Bitch”, the tale of a dancer with a serious attitude problem and a callous disregard for nightclub etiquette.
What better way to mark the arrival of our 10th anniversary than by crafting an overblown, self-indulgent, self-referencing load of self-aggrandising noise? Well, loads of better ways, probably, to be honest …
Time is big. Really big. You just won’t believe how vastly hugely mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it’s been ages since you were having your arse handed to you in high school, but that’s just peanuts to time. Listen …
There you are, happily enjoying a permanent and irreversible state of total non-existence when, all of a sudden, some cheeky bastard relative sticks a needle in your face and expects you to make pleasing audio memories for them!
Isn’t it marvellous how the pandemic is finally over, Brexit is done, and the fascist threat to American democracy has been thoroughly vanquished, and we can at last deal with the really important problems?
It’s said the only certainties in life are death and taxes, but what about sickness, suffering, solitude, and the fact that your favourite show will always be cancelled while “Mrs Brown’s Boys” gets another shitting series?