From the Pink Floyd school kid wail at the start to the punk screech end, the Young Offenders Institute are special; special in that kind of Channel Four has probably already made a documentary about this (title: my ’tard parents made me start a rock n roll band) way.

It’s highly Manchester, veering from the Happy Mondays’ larging it up drug references to its chas ‘n dave-era Oasis romanticism. It’s drunk pop by estate kids for the middle class record (industry) buying public; Henry Rollins inspired indie punk swinging by the Goldie Lookin’ Chain gaff while the boys have gone to Borstal.

While these sounds are most likely to be appreciated by the crack tin trust fund brigade, this is far more likely to fester in depths of underground madness before it actually sells some records. Purely for the fact that it could just be stupid or it could just be genius.