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