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Flint : Aim 4

Dribbly death’s-door punk

Just as Cro-Magnon man depended on flint to make tools, so we may count on Keith Flint to deliver stone-solid proof that there’s no tool like an old tool, especially one whose debut single attempts to squeeze the arse-end of 1978 into a pair of too-tight Topman combats.



Dribbly death’s-door punk that keeps its brain, like its dentures, in a glass beside its bed, this sucks like a Hoover.



Sarah Dempster

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