The noise they made was awful - a droning, tuneless, shit-brown, dank thud overlaid with incredibly badly sung pseudo-profound lyrics...
Uck! Fuck! Bugger, blast, shit
and damnation! They’re back!
The worst band in the world EVER! Worse than Ned’s Atomic Dustbin, worse than The Waterboys, worse than Teenage Fanclub, worse than Folk Implosion, worse than the Pixies, worse, even than The Smiths. Yes, I know that’s hard to believe but it’s true. It was once this hack’s unfortunate fate, when he was nowt but a fresh-faced and idealistic young cub reporter, to have to attend over a dozen stadium gigs and festivals in the space of a year and (oh hellish fate) Spear Of Sodding Destiny played at every single bastard one. The noise they made was awful – a droning, tuneless, shit-brown, dank thud overlaid with incredibly badly sung pseudo-profound lyrics. The drug dealers walked around shouting, “Aspirin! Paracetamol! Nurofen! Panadol Ultra!” No, really, they did! It was the worst year of my life and it turned me into the embittered old cynic that you see before you today. And now, they’re back! Lead singer Kirk Brandon – who once sued Boy George over ‘allegations’ that he’d been the Karma Chameleon’s lover – has ditched the minicab in favour of the microphone and is once again intent on filling the airwaves and pages of the music papers with his own particularly offensive brand of dumbed-down pseudo-Nietzschean [I]uber[/I]-gibberish. Great.