It is absolutely bonkers, bananas, mad as a pheasant’s wedding.
The perfect antidote to cynical rehashes of 80s music performed by pretty boys and girls styled to within an inch of their lives.
David Kemper (the guy responsible for creating the words and music contained in this here album) certainly has too much going on inside his little head than is safe for one person.
The story goes that on our rider we ask for four baby pigs dressed in racing jackets, so we can race them… But I think we could update it for four gerbils…
We use tea in a very naughty way. We get so high on tea. We get so fucked up on tea. We go in there (the tea shop) and just start screaming.
on sunny afternoons, I like to drink wine, smoke grass – and fuck!
The story goes that he died in his bath – electroschock. I heard he was trying to change to lightbulb when he was in the shower.
Like a lot of people in this dog eat dog world, we’ve felt the ice-blood flowing through our veins melting like a polar cap every time we hear the perfect boy-girl harmonies created by the Magic Numbers.
This music makes our dogs run out of the room
Cats, furthermore, do it in much more manageable portions, which also seem to calcify at a much brisker rate. In a nutshell, cats know they are responsible for their own shit.