There have been multitudes of spurious rumours published about me on the internet already. And just because they were all created and propogated by myself on humid summer nights whilst Elvira, Mistress of the Dark played on a broken samsung tv, doesn’t make them any less salacious. So, as we stand on the brink of species destruction, here in the year of consumerism and fear, of girls with long legs and short attention spans, of ritual killings and staying up past our bed times, I’m going to spout nonsense at you, screaming about apocalypse like the poorly dressed eccentric i am.

I mainly write about music, film, books, and the horror of autotune.

Welcome, you can call me anything you want, so long as it starts with a capital letter.

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