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 served. Bring your weak shit, where the wall for now, la. 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 hear's a huffer puff and the... Expect killings. Red spilling and flesh ripping, impressive in it. The death bringing its head spinning. Just kidding. Every word in his song's about two grown men dressed up as a bird and a dog. Hello, welcome to The Wolf for now once again. Run tell your friends. I was about to say my mic sounds nice, check one, but it doesn't look at this.

Is that your mic?

Oh shit.

That's happened to my mic.

That's a common place of the old,

yeah, it's a very,

very short little nib.

Yeah, well, they're not,

apparently this sort of expensive sound equipment is not suited to being thrown

in the bottom of a rucksack.

So I'm recording on the, apologies for my sound quality.

I'm using a laptop mic.

But you know, to give that some context, Tom never apologises and his sound is,

oh no, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, what a way to, like, feel bad yourself?

Instead of just feeling bad, you throw me under the bus i think that was like

podcast god going you're going in too fitted on your mate there straight away yeah it was like kind of

just straight from the off and also i'm i'm gonna level with everyone i'm pretty hung over today

well yeah i mean you certainly don't need to level with me i me. I received a series of text messages from you last night.

The first one made some sort of sense, but required a follow-up.

...