But you know what? The Raconteurs can FUCK RIGHT OFF*. It’s astonishing to consider the leap Jack White has made since their formation – from the savour of punkfuckingrock to Eric Clapton, via guitar solos that resemble the most persistent Jehovah Witness, unable to take a hint and fuck off from your doorstep so you can get back to watching Countdown. Not that they’re showing Countdown at Benicassim, but I’m using the medium of metaphor here and so everything is just peachy. Now, it may surprise you that I’m something of a spiritual man. I have absolute, resolute belief in God. I believe that God loves everyone - everyone that is apart from the four people who make up The Raconteurs. God hates The Raconteurs, and during their set, struck down a puppy with cancer because the omnipresent creator was so infuriated by their spunk sickly dad rock. That and the face Brendan Benson does when he’s not singing that makes him look like he needs a constant shit. God hates The Raconteurs, and you, dear reader, should burn any Raconteurs records you may be stupid enough to own immediately – otherwise you will be sent to hell** and have to wank off Fred West for all of eternity. True facts. And they look like tramps. And the guy with the glasses looks like a massive, diseased bell end. And they left me thinking that we need a new Gallows record. And now.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
I get the feeling
that James doesn't care for Jack White and Co...
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