"Yeah man they rock! I even bought the t-shirt. Sweet innit."

Blow your Spinal Tap comparisons out the blocked fire exit, lock up your Dazed and Confused reading daughters and burn your press blurbs because The Darkness are the answer to all our fucking problems. Irony’s dead, Def Leppard are still making kick arse records and the price of beer in west London basements has skyrocketed. The timing is perfect for a rock show of the most heinous magnitude. Perfection wouldn’t describe the shivering feeling of the diamond dusted, lightning bolt breathing rawk! It can’t so I won’t.

A frontman to shock the sweaty, bar flying institution of rock n roll, shaking like a dog shitting razorblades, surpassing the fuzz burning expectations of his beautiful bandmates. Take no shit from any of those yogurt munching, cardigan wearing liberals, rock n roll cannot survive without The Darkness. It’s the newest rule to be added to the list, along with the truth that it’s cool to idolise Jon Bon Jovi. And I ain’t fucking kidding.