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Tasmanian punk rock. recorded in a strange nipaluna/hobart cave in 2019, this album skirts the line between ‘hey, how are ya? i think i’d like to make an offer’ and ‘this isn’t what i’d hoped for, is there any room for me in that shipping container amongst all the rifles and toilet rolls?’ it’s a shame we had to kick out all the gamers using the cave for their dank craving-the-abyss meme creation, but it’s cool cos all their parents have spare granny flats for them to play in while nana’s at the royal commission hearings and she’s determined to knit it out on the lawns until the recommendations are implemented on-ground, so she’ll probably be a while. plus the 5g connection in the cave sucks. (don’t even get the little shits started on the nbn. they say it might as well have been laid by horses.) oh god, wait, gotta go, that same glistening black audi four-wheel drive just parked across my driveway again, so i’m gonna do what i should’ve done the first time it happened: steal it and drive it into town (our pathetic queen’s domain) before eating its owner alive.