Last weekend was another large one. Almost too large for the brain and body to take. After embarrassing myself on Friday, Saturday was the Cosmic King's birthday. Following a breakfast involving a hearty, artery sludgifying black pudding scotch egg, it was time to continue playing up to parody. We took a trip down Old Compton Street to search out the original strength formula room odouriser, then burrowed our heads in boxes of 12 inches. We found this monster for 20p.
Beautifully packaged words
Pouring over the FT's obituaries
The evening was a suitable celebration befitting of the Cosmic one's 30th. Embarrassing images of the past coupled with a strong cake, delicious beers, solvent abuse and outlandish dancing. We even ended up at a house party with a PA in the front room and a floor buckling number of people dancing to the best Modular releases from 2006. Too strong.
Eyeing up the goods
Down the hatch
The Cosmic King goes mutant
Vogue
Bashy denim vibes
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