Once described as pure cow shit sieved through a punk rock windsock, this plucky four-piece may well have JC turning in his grave but they’re doing it with the love of a long lost son who really didn’t mind being called Sue. Known to their beloved fans as “J to the muthafuckin’ T†and plagued at gigs by such touching crowd chants as “Who the fuck are you?â€, they’re about as tight as your granny’s ass after a hard night on the veggie burritos and Guinness. Don’t delay – get your sorry self to one of their legendary gigs before one of them falls over and can’t get back up again…
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