All the band’s songs are penned by long suffering, weather-beaten singer/guitarist Chris Hibberd, who claims he finds them under hedges. He pins them to the ground with a forked stick, wrestles them into a sack & brings them to an old cowshed, where the rest of the band kick them around until they’ve had enough. Once they’ve had all the rough edges knocked off, they’re left to hang for a while until they’re good and ready.

Chris takes very good care of his trademark gravelly voice, treating it to forty rollups a day and regularly gargling with whisky (which he usually forgets to spit out).