Oh, to be Johnny Borrell. A face like a heel, hair like pubic spaghetti and teeth that literally point in every direction. But no matter as he's not exactly lacking in self-confidence, old Johnny (witness his incessant flagging up of his own inherent "genius").

 

Wiping your arse with £100 notes doesn't necessarily mean a spotless sphincter. If you're going to run about calling yourself a genius, one day someone is going to call you on it and use the available evidence (e.g. your album) to come to a scientific conclusion (e.g. your album is shit). That, in a very real sense, is life.

Note: we haven't listened to all of 'Slipway Fires' ('Shit-way Fires' etc.), but we imagine we'd actually die if we did.