Not an entirely satisfactory way to spend a Saturday night, because it was compered by an idiot and his idiot friends who gave it the atmosphere of a local radio show. They failed to mix their CDs properly, or show any flair for easing between moods. And they talked too much, and voice-synched to songs. Utter tits, never again.
Flesh is Grass
Knows her place in the food chain.
Flesh is Grass 