I’ve said too much about this band already.
“Fancy meeting God,” we crowed as we beckoned Nick down from the stage, arms aloft, only to let him fall at the last second. “Fancy meeting God,” we crowed as we rabbit-punched our way through the hordes of ravenous Goths. The only singer to have knocked out one of my teeth with a mic stand. I could have chosen pretty much anything from them. I chose this.
