[spoiler] ‘Porn Star’, ‘(I’m A) Rock Whore’, ‘Fucked By Rock and Roll’, ‘Down On Me’ – hardly song titles at the cutting edge of musical originality but, y’know what, Thunderfuck and the Deadly Romantics couldn’t give a toss – ethically, at least – and gawd bless them for it.

Staining the speakers with an old school production that fits the scuzzy, spunk-fuelled sound riot like a lubed glove, the band (of which there appears to have been many… ummm… members) dribbles a load of garage metal over the body of the stereo, while (vinegar) stroking the ears with a surprisingly shape-shifting amount of bad-ass glunk guitar flying solo all over the place.

Imagine that brief moment when W.A.S.P. were good and, apparently, dangerous, fucking like beasts, women on the rack, and smear it over the back catalogues of The Mentors, Macc Lads, Dwarves, Ted Nugent and Venom, adding a somewhat unhealthy amount of NWOBHM and a welcome stab or three of searing gutter punk ‘n’ roll geetar, and you have Thunderfuck and the Deadly Romantics. Despite tales of unhappy club owners and multiple post-gig banning orders, Thunderfuck and the Deadly Romantics still manage to find clubs willing to book them. This winter they will find themselves supporting aged glam neverdies Tigertailz; something tells me the sick sex won’t be reserved exclusively for the headliners.