Yo, what do you want, beak or jaws, feathers or fur, sharp teeth or feet with claws,

whatever's preferred, they'll grant you all last request to steady your nerves, then podcast

the body parts get severed and serked. Bring your weak shit, where the wall finale, that ain't just

a mistake, that's an awful howler. Both of them are known to pull up at your shows.

Have the crowd witnessing a murder like they rolled in with a gang of crows. Fuck their censorship. Let them see the whole thing. They stay dressed to kill. Never sheep's clothing. Dark enough to turn the sun to the moon. You'll see nothing. All your hears are huffer puff and a... a expect killings red spilling and flesh ripping

impressive in it the death bringing his head spinning

just kidding every word in his songs about two grown men

dressed up as a bird and a dog

time for the wolf and our podcast

oh wow you went in so big, you went in so big there.

You went in so big, so cheeky.

That's like trying to Robona and like in your first touch for a World Cup final and fucking

tripping over your shoelaces.

You know, I think part of the problem is that Tom and I haven't spoken, you have and I

haven't spoken to each other. I keep doing this addressing the listener like I'm a fucking Radio One. So you and I haven't spoken for a bit. And so we've basically done half an hour of podcasting before we clicked on record. Yeah, yeah. We've done a big one chat. Completely unbroadcastable, potentially cancelable chat before we clicked on record.

Lovely chat though boy.

Lovely.

Just nice.

So then what I was I had to switch into sort of, I say performance mode.

It's not very performative of the podcast, but I do.

You always start every podcast in a performance type mode.

And then what I do is go in big early doors, regret it, and then I'm shit for the rest of the podcast, and then I ask you to review me at the end.

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