Her Master's Vice

Yeaaahhhhh, this is miles better than that huffing stuff a year back!!!… Sinister limbs and gurning skittle, cooking up blackened humour on hobo gauze. The quiet, serving to make that filthy chaos more cacophonous, like fisting yr with bleached, pointed bulb and splintered find… a nagging feeling, gnawing at you slowly, relishing every minute then exploding in barmy clarity – I’m digging this completely - even if it’s the pauper edition.