Dolewave. But more played out as waving at the bluddy dole as it sails away forever, kidnapped by the current Thatcher Administration to line their already plump pockets, amiright? Speaking of uplifting the non-existential anchors of our fictional floatation vessels, let's take our rafts across No Worries Ocean towards that glistening sunset. We've been in that direction before, but now, amidst the aforementioned Cuntstorm, it's more of beaconing idyllic location than ever before. A fictional existence (fixtistence) dominated by the activities of kicking footys and drinking "forties", unconstrained by the usual tightly bound fists of time, instead, enjoying the freedom associated with the blissful, yet rare, holiday weekend.
Of course, like most things, that's all just a fake silver lining (aluminium). Wasting days just sleeping, getting cold feet chatting to ladies and, once again, considering the stupid ritual of Dry July. That's the real wave that we ride. A current that crashes our pathetic frames into the Sand Bar Of Reality. The heavy load of sand in our speedos is the burdening weight of responsibility and the regret of wasted days. Metaphors.
Ciggie Witch are a super group of people, consisting of members from The Ocean Party, Pencil and some band called The Triffids. Their debut, Rock And Roll Juice, is out now via Osborne Again.