The Platinum Album

Our rating:

It's shit. All their songs are shit. Profoundly shit...

Clothes label Diesel are trying to freak us out, man, with their ‘surreal’ adverts. Pah! Amateurs! Unfit to lace the highly polished dolphin-skin jackboots of the head-fuck pop phenomenon known as [a]Vengaboys[/a].

Who are they? What are they? What are they trying to say? [a]Vengaboys[/a] go beyond ‘bland’ and into some twisted nightmare dimension where the blatant promotion of loose-knickered, tit-flashing, pansexually promiscuous two-fisted pig-fuckery meets The Smurfs.

, on ‘Uncle John From Jamaica’, you shiver. Like a dog. Like a very [I]cold [/I]dog.

[a]Vengaboys[/a] are the abyss that Neecher warned us not to look into. So don’t.