Gig Seeker Pro


Band Rock Funk


This band has not uploaded any videos
This band has not uploaded any videos


The best kept secret in music


This band has no press


None as yet - demo in the making


Feeling a bit camera shy


Like George Bush, I firmly believe that human beings and fish can co-exist peacefully. But will the highways on the internet become more few? That I don’t know. Does a brand of accessible peoples’ funk without compromise exist in this crazy world in which we live in? Yes. That it does exist is down to a combination of factors so fantastic, so improbable…..a tale involving mythical dragons, flamboyant characters, fauxmosexuality, sex guards, nodules, powerful black men, zoophilia, pornography, wee dancey bits, David Bellamy, Eric Roberts, polished gaps, muss-taches, flambasticism, mendacity, courage, eroticism, bestiality, greed, brutality, pugnacity, dinosaurs, great dancers, great drinkers, great clappers, great clapping drinkers dancing, and speciality swimming bears.
But it all began with a big, healthy pair of balls. In an enchanted forest. Dave “Big Healthy Balls” Skinner was picking mushrooms and playing his ukulele, as he did every day (for context, it’s important to note that this forest was on the outskirts of Glasgow). He was a gay (in the 1950s sense) young man, happy and content, dressed like Robin Hood, absorbed totally in his world of mushrooms and ukuleles, not thinking at all about the huge mythical dragon which, in his imagination, was rumoured to live in the forest. He was also not aware of the sex guards who didn’t exist but who, in his mind, stood firm at the gates to the dragon’s castle, keeping the inhabitants of the forest safe from its fire and fury. He was especially unaware of the sex guard who, that very minute, had just escaped from the castle with terrible news and was running madly through the forest towards him.
Graeme “Cougar Wolf” Davidson had only been an imaginary sex guard at the illusionary castle of the mythical dragon in the fake forest for three months. It was his first job since leaving school. He didn’t really like it, and had grown increasingly scared of the dragon, and suspicious of the other sex guards, but he needed the money to help him fulfil his dream of escaping the dragon and the life of a sex guard. This cold logic, getting a job he didn’t want so he could earn the money to escape from the job he didn’t want, and didn’t need to take in the first place, would serve him well in the future. In the present, he was fulfilling his dream, as he rushed unknowingly, in his imagination, from the illusionary castle through the fake forest towards the young man who was not aware of his non-existence.
Meanwhile, in a small, crooked hut which wasn’t really small and crooked (or a hut for that matter), in a far corner of the forest which didn’t exist, “Growling” Ross McLaughlin and Neil “Lock Remington” Lockhart were conducting their most daring and foolhardy evil experiment yet. Their work had become increasingly dangerous and maverick since they had been kicked out of University for attempting to cross-breed, and then clone, vicious amphibious rodents with men with moustaches (who were offered extravagant sums of money to participate and then heavily drugged). Under a crackling light bulb, engaged in an altogether unnecessary and delusional race against time, they were about to clone a human being from a set of bongos (they had initially tried congas, but their size proved too difficult to manage safely). It was their intent to let loose this clone, which would have unnatural bouncing abilities, on the forest before the dragon escaped from its castle and took it over (the terrible news Cougar Wolf was right then carrying). They didn’t really know what it would achieve, but they assumed a cloned human bongo would be all powerful and would secure the forest for their own evil designs and drive the greatly fabricated dragon out forever.
The final piece in our complex, imaginary jigsaw, was lost. Only that morning he had been indulging his greatest passion, teaching bears to swim so that they could be placed in water traps beneath death slides at airports. Allan “Bongo Peanut Maria” Ross walked very slowly through a forest he knew he wasn’t in, because it didn’t exist, worrying about where he was, which was nowhere, and where he was going, which wasn’t anywhere. His confusion was merely compounded by the fact that he knew he wasn’t really confused. This confusion about his lack of confusion led to a third level of confusion, which caused him to lose his sense of his lack of confusion and made him believe, finally, that he actually was lost. He had thus gone very quickly from not being lost to being lost, but knowing he wasn’t really lost, to forgetting about knowing he wasn’t lost because he was confused and therefore to being actually lost. It was at this moment, his most desperate hour, that he stumbled across Dave Skinner. Not three seconds later, Cougar Wolf careered into them both. At precisely this time, somewhere to the south, a hut door opened and a strange, small two-headed beast with legs, but nothing else, bounced out, making strange twangy, spongy sounds a