in a small funky room with spray paint down it’s walls, lived a young scrawny man who has since moved to halls, he has curlyish hair and a baseline from space, his blue eyed partner couldn’t let it go to waste, they played a guitar and a bit of drums too, they promise to make music, through and through. from southampton to bristol, the music will be made, the music will be heard, Signed Clyde the Alien