April 15, 2000

Squat : Bugged

It seems to be one of the most fundamental physical rules of the universe that punk rock played by ladies is always, without exception, AL-fucking-WAYS brilliant.

Big red letters say 'SQUAT'. Big green letters say 'BUGGED'. And in between they've stuck a picture of a mossie with spooky green eyes sucking blood out of a junkie's dick. So, what does this packaging say to us? It says, "Hello, we're a poor little band called Squat and we've got no money or friends or discernible musical ability and we live in a coal shed in Grimsby but what we have got is BALLS and WIT and IMAGINATION and here's our single and if you don't like it then FUCK YOU IN THE EYE WITH A RUSTY RAILING! You soft southern GET!

You see, when you buy 'Bugged' by Squat you're not just buying a record, you're buying an ethos, an attitude, hey you're buying a whole goddamn way of life.

"Yes, but what about the music!?" groan the pedants in their Nike neckerchiefs, Tommy Hilfiger boxer shorts, Levi 'tubular' jeans, Reepock posh pumps, Armani socks, Dolce&Gabanna underkecks and Block & Dicker power-assisted strap-on dildos. It's great! It's punk rock done by women. How can it not be great? It seems to be one of the most fundamental physical rules of the universe that punk rock played by ladies is always, without exception, AL-fucking-WAYS brilliant. Why? Don't know. It just always is. And if you disagree you'll be run over by a removal lorry tomorrow and come back as a crab. So watch it.

Turns out that Squat are called Pamelahell, Cheryl, Lizzy and Jendean and they don't live in a coal hole in Grimsby but in a derelict submarine in San Francisco Bay. With their baby, Frank
'The Sandwich' Maloney. A
brand within a brand, d'y'see? Damn clever!

Steven Wells