Frazer King

(POETRY HOOLIGAN on FRAZER KING).......................frazer king, the young working class losers own hat full of rain, coming off the street like the last daredevil cowboy, guaranteed to be carrying anything that will melt in a spoon....bleach, rat poison anything ..man...just give me the spike, vital organs pumping away, synapses firing, dying with his boots on, like there is any other way, the fast vanishing cultural hero. there is an air of death about him. stay away...he will fry your brains and ruin your liver and in general make you about as fucked up as your parents. he carries a razor in his shoe, never seen in the light, he isnt keane on snow patrols, prefering snow in his nostrill, sniffed from the naked rumps of fat £20 whores on tib street. this guy smuggles bad gear back to colombia for a refund - thats how cool HE his - and with those killer tunes you know that satan isnt far behind him, following his every step and stumble, waiting, watching -LEARNING- but most of all rocking the fuck out! frazer kings gonna kick your ass, and hum a tune while doing it. he has a tall, fragrant fox furred woman on each arm...calling him sir! and this mother fuckers got a pair of sixteen hundered pound croc skin shoes on! step aside...suck-er! now, you know your girlfriends gonna be in bed with him tomorrow - all day - your shite bands like the arctic monkeys have sold you down the river, britpop is a thing of the past and all you can say is .... shit. there, my friend, you have the man. and there, brother, you have FRAZER KING!