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The Sticks

We had a nightmare the other day where we were trapped on a dodgem car that wouldn’t stop. In the next car was Link Wray, a malevolent gleam on his fizzog. By the side lurked an aged woman hammering a cheese-grater against the metal edge of the ride, cackling in a frenzy. Then we woke up and realised we were listening to Brighton’s finest lo-fi avant-garage troupe, The Sticks.

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