A stoney Old Kent Rd chancer met with a Margate spiv, they pulled a fey Midlands wastrel and, armed with the mighty Bugle and Bow Fabulizer, they set to making music that is destined "fer the bottom o' the charts!"... are ya with us lads 'n' lasses?!
… a night dissolving in a vile heat right off a page by Tennessee Williams…. an insidious chemical brew creeping through the battered psyches of the vagabonds present…. a curious glyph erected on the floor from a violin bow, a djinn bottle and several crooked aspirations… and the endless reeling refrain pulsing and wheeling amongst the curling smoke and shattered talk of things somewhat unwell….. The Stovepipe Hat hacking and mumbling and trading offences with the tattooed ‘n’ scarred Rabbits’ Foot, whilst Fedora lies under the piano, nursing a bottle and a variety of catholic problems and sets himself alight…….