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THE OCCULT, SLEAZE, DRUGS AND ROCK ‘N ROLL COLLIDE IN A PROFANE BLACK COMEDY THAT CRUISES THE OUTBACK HIGHWAYS, DIVE PUB KHAZIS AND SCABBY UPPER ECHELONS OF SOCIETY IN THE REPUBLIC OF AUSTRALIA CIRCA 1993.

Flicking on the UV lamp, Ed scratched out four long, jagged lines of tacky yellow upper, etching fans into the murky glass of the terrarium’s ceiling.
Ed produced a filthy prawn from his back pocket, rolled it expertly and handed it to BABALÖN’s singer-guitarist, Izzy.
Izzy sealed the pact, then their bassist, Beav of Destruction, did same.
Ma’at, the drummer, went last.
Dropping his shoulder, Ed hoovered up the remainder, looked up from the makeshift mirror and palmed an oozing river of chemical snot from his chin.

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