| Dear diary. Ross grew up in grey Manchester in the 80'S and later as a young whippersnapper could be seen fighting and selling drugs with scallies in Liverpool, in exile from Oasis-mania. After many stunning adventures he was found washed-up in a Swedish studio. He is a fucking tourist, he is permanently on holiday. His last drinking partner ended up in a mental hospital in Dublin. He has been writing material for terrorism and the Anonymous Phonecalls EP since January 2006. If the hangover abaits he might finish recording sometime soon. It's like a fine wine, or rather a smelly cheese... or both if you prefer a bi-polar view, polar bears. |
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