Tiny insects cease their labour, the birds of the sky and the beasts of the field shift slightly in nervous expectation, the eyes of humanity water with awestruck anticipation, the earth cracks, the waters foam, the sky is electric, why even the Gods take pause to witness the spectacle as the one they call Seymour Mace takes to the stage and says fuck a bit too much for some people's tastes.
“As if the conjoined souls of Vic and Bob have been poured into the body of a tattooed Eric Morecambe” ★★★★ The Scotsman
★★★★★ – The Times
★★★★★ – One4Review
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