OK, gloves off, stomach in, dick out this freaking RAWKS!

Of course all Satanists are dicks, same as all Christians are dicks. I mean, here we are living in the 21st century with our walkie-talkies and spaceships and strange black obelisks on the moon and these silly wankers are running around like cavemen, wailing about ‘holy ghosts’ and shit. For fuck’s sake, get with the programme, you Stone-Age lunatics!

Still, the cool thing about Brian (as he insists on being called by his friends) is that he eschews the usual horrendous row proffered by most God-knockers in favour of The Sweet circa ‘Little Willy’. This is glam pop so cheesy that it makes Daphne & Celeste sound like Radiohead. And how cool is that? Fucking cool, actually. For a dick. “I’M NOT A SLAVE TO A GOD THAT DOESN’T EXIST! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”

OK, gloves off, stomach in, dick out this freaking RAWKS! From the first [I]”Wahoo!”[/I]-by-Blur type intro spook-chords, it makes you want to run round to your local student union with a muthafreakin’ bastard of a flamethrower strapped to your back, kick open the door to room 22b where the Evangelical Christian Soc are holding their weekly meeting and then just stand there, in the doorway, looking menacing with your different coloured contact lenses and spooky ghost make-up and shit. “Dance, dance wherever you may be!” sing the beatifically smiling Christers and then they notice you and PARP! shockshit their sensible brown corduroy trousers in sheer freaking TERROR! You slowly squeeze the trigger. [I]WOOOOOOOOOMPHF![/I]

Steven Wells