Review: ‘The Intrusion’

Our writers Eve Leach and Felicity Haslin attended the press night of The Intrusion, Bric à Brac Theatre’s latest stage production inciting new conversations about climate change and our role as humans in the environmental crisis.

The Leeds Tealights Record an Album : LIVE! : A Review

I have always been curious about The Tealights, Leeds’ own sketch comedy student group. I have never had the chance to see them whilst always aware of their chaos. So, of course, when I was invited to see their recent sketch comedy show “The Leeds Tealights Record An Album Live” at the Lending Room I jumped at the opportunity to see this enigmatic ensemble be silly. 

The show’s first opener, Queenie Cowen, was brilliant. Handling the stage with confidence yet relatability, it was clear she had done this before. She already had me in stitches.  I noticed she was also involved in the production of the Tealight’s later performance, which makes sense as her clear, conceptual and relatable comedic beats established the tone seen in the show throughout. The next opener, Harry Ozin, was seemingly less experienced but his at times awkward and deadpan delivery made for a brilliant payoff. His humour leaned into self-deprecation and subtle absurdity, catching the audience off guard and questioning what he was going to say next. Who doesn’t love two funny people being funny before more funny people come and be funny?

The Tealights show was one that made me feel about 50 pints down whilst I was sober. The sketches are clean, conceptual, stupid whilst simultaneously relatable and pop culture savvy. It’s a rare mix that I feel is unique to student comedy and the space we were in. A room full of supportive friends and family and comedy lovers like myself made for an excellent springboard for the group to play off. I particularly enjoyed one sketch where a member accidentally calls the teacher ‘mum’ and falls to the floor in a desperate cry for help. So relatable and something everyone can laugh at.

Image Credits: The Leeds Tealights

Also, of course, the sketch where The Gryphon was front and centre—being read on the toilet, naturally. There are clear acting skills from the Tealights too, strengthening their comedy through serious commitment to the bit. I won’t spoil too much, as I’m sure they will be back with a new show very soon. Just know you’ll leave equally enthused and confused. I can assure you that these guys will go on to do huge things with the clear talent from all involved, and I would jump to see them again. And no, that’s not a reference to the Gary Barlow song.

Thank you to The Tealights for a fantastic evening! Follow them on Instagram @leedstealights to see what they are up to!

Words by Henry Clarke

Finding Balance: The Case for Yoga

I have tried nearly every exercise class under the sun; partly because I am addicted to free Class Pass trials, partly because my destroyed attention span forces me to switch up everything I do so I don’t die of boredom, and partly because I love being able to turn my brain off and follow instructions for an hour. Most days of the week I find myself in the gym, on a run, on the tennis courts or in a random studio, and I love it – I think. 

Now nobody needs my unqualified self to tell you all the benefits of exercise, but just for fun, let’s list a few. Your sleep improves, you have more natural energy, the endorphins make you happier and less stressed, you have better cognitive function, your risk of chronic disease is reduced and, of course, if you do it enough, your body physically changes. As all annoying gym addicts say, I have never once regretted a workout. It always, without fail, makes me feel good afterwards. However, I tend towards more high-intensity workouts, like boot camp style classes. Often the mental convincing it takes just to get there, knowing how intense it will be, is half as strenuous as the class itself. 

So, when I was offered to attend a free yoga class with Ashleigh (@yogaclubleeds on Instagram), I jumped at the chance. 

Image Credit: Ashleigh Cunningham

Yoga is a practice that I have always held very dear. My grandma Carole was a yoga teacher and continued to teach almost her entire life. In Year 11, along with three of my best friends, I attended weekly classes during the “stress” of our GCSEs (bless us we had no idea what was to come). In my first year at Leeds, I also joined Yoga Society, practising in the Union’s beautiful Jade Studio. Even this summer, when working in a Mexican food truck at Glastonbury, I went to classes in the “Yoga Whale” to get into a good mood before my shifts (and repent for my sins the night before). More recently I have been going to yoga classes in my gym, but no more than once a fortnight. I clearly really enjoy yoga, so why do I not prioritise it anymore?

Yoga is an ancient practice, with its own set of benefits, many of them being mental. It has great benefits to one’s strength, balance and flexibility. But, more often than not, yoga is a fairly low-impact exercise compared to other types. Personally, I often opt for high-impact exercise, because I perceive it as having more “benefits”. However, I have recently been wondering if I only believe that because it is the exercise that changes my body the most physically. For some reason, I’m convinced that I’m “wasting my time” actively choosing exercises that prioritise mental well-being more. Knowing that this thought process is not only illogical, but quite harmful, I took the opportunity to attend Ashleigh’s class to challenge this mindset.

The session was in a small studio in Kirkstall, home to many different classes. Ashleigh was immediately warm and welcoming, creating a community feel in her kind nature. I arrived carrying a lot of stress from my third-year deadlines, so was initially slightly reluctant to be there. However, I almost immediately found myself lost in the positivity of the class, following Ashleigh’s instructions to choose to let go of the day and ground myself in the room. 

The poses that we held were strength-based and fairly challenging, demanding you to bring every ounce of attention to your own body. Towards the end of the class, Ashleigh taught us all how to do a headstand, which we had been preparing for with our dolphin poses. Although this was something I hadn’t attempted for God knows how long, I really wanted to give it a go. Ashleigh’s instructions were clear and precise, and low and behold, with a bit of encouragement, I did it (for about two seconds)! The class finished with a short meditation, in which we were encouraged to feel pride in our decision to prioritise our wellbeing by coming to the class. 

Leaving the studio, I felt totally rejuvenated; all the stresses from the day had melted away. I felt pride in the strength of my body for carrying me through the class, I felt proud for having the confidence to attempt a headstand, I felt proud for getting myself there in the first place, and most importantly, I felt pride in prioritising my mental health. 

Exercise should be an act of love for our body, never a punishment. Choosing to do yoga is choosing to actively love your body and yourself, by doing something kind for it. Although I’ll be continuing with my different workouts, this class has been the perfect reminder to start prioritising yoga, and my mental well-being again. I encourage anyone reading who is under the stresses of university, or just life in general, to give yoga a go, specifically @yogaclubleeds for a similar experience. Use discount code “gryphon” for 50% off your first class.

Words by Anna Lawrence-Wasserberg

The Winter Arc: Are Social Media Trends Fuelling the Resurgence of Diet Culture?

The rhetoric surrounding the perfect ‘summer body’ resurfaces annually to perpetuate diet culture and provide a platform for corporations to profit from individuals’ insecurities or anxieties. In an era of digitalisation, social media platforms form the network through which these negative ideals become targeted towards women, especially young women. 

The latest trend to appear on TikTok is “The Winter Arc”, which is a creative reimagining of the ‘summer body’ phrasing to ensure that year-long young women become pressured to conform to diet culture and subscribe to various health and wellness fixes. In a 2020 survey published by University College London, it was reported that between 2005 and 2015 the percentage of teenagers attempting to lose weight had risen by 13.4%. The societal pressure to lose weight is often directed towards young women, and in turn, companies create products, fitness programmes and marketing campaigns with this demographic in mind.  

Within this context, “The Winter Arc” is problematic because it creates a culture of consumption whereby individuals feel pressured to buy expensive gym memberships, new gym clothes, trainers, skincare products and expensive health food. The TikTok algorithm promotes these trends because engagement draws interest from large health, wellness and beauty advertisers that stand to profit from diet culture. It is opportunistic but also represents the larger problem of beauty standards in society. 

To say “The Winter Arc” is a resurgence of diet culture is unfortunately untrue, as diet culture is consistently present in modern society. In reality, TikTok is creating trends that are increasingly visible and less discreet than previous reimaginings of weight loss trends, and these terms are repackaged and reestablished regularly by corporations aiming for profit. Trends like #WhatIEatInADay have been circulating social media for years, whilst the app Facetune, which allows users to edit their images, has over 160 million downloads globally. Trends like “The Winter Arc” are indicative of a widespread problem in society. 

Though diet culture is persistent, in an increasingly digitalised world trends and narratives are readily available on mainstream and social media platforms. With increasing media visibility, and in an era of Ozempic and plastic surgery, these problems can seem new or part of a resurgence in diet culture. But the truth is that we are increasingly exposed to diet culture which results in increased conversation around body image in our communities. Across news media reporting, in tabloids and broadsheets, there is an excessive focus on celebrities’ appearance or sudden weight loss. The editorial director at British Vogue stated that the fashion industry should be worried about the return of extreme thinness on both the runway and the media. It could be argued that though there has been increasing diversity in body types in modelling and mainstream media in recent years, the underlying persistence of diet culture and pressures to be thin has not improved or changed greatly. 

Image Credit: The Guardian/Alamy/Ro

The presence of social media trends, such as “The Winter Arc” and #WhatIEatInADay, paired with the increasing thinness in the media due to Ozempic, generates extreme pressure on women to adhere to ever-changing beauty standards because they are targeted by the media and marketing campaigns. Social media platforms, centrally TikTok, have a responsibility to monitor the trends that circulate the app. On TikTok, when the #WhatIEatInADay trend appears, there is a disclaimer and a link to the charity Beat which helps people with eating disorders. 

Though these trends are problematic, and social media platforms have a responsibility to protect people struggling with body image issues, these trends emerge from the social systems that put pressure on women to look a certain way. By acknowledging that these trends are repackaged and relabelled in attempts to generate insecurities and sell products, it becomes easier to examine the source of these social pressures. But, to create real change, we must unsubscribe from the beauty ideals imposed by societal pressure, as corporations would be forced to create marketing campaigns and products that are not based on diet culture.

Words by Sophie Gregory

Unlearning Diet Culture: Healthy Relationships with Food in an All-Girls Household

It is no secret to those who know me, that my absolute favourite genre of film and TV show is 2000s chick flicks. They are the most fun and light-hearted comfort re-watch, with cute outfits, snappy comebacks and (almost) always a happy ending. When it comes to a girly movie night, Tarantino can do one. 

Image Credit: HBO

However, every piece of media in this genre has one thing in common. They always, without fail, reinforce diet culture. Think Regina’s perpetual diet in Mean Girls, Andy being shamed for eating carbs in The Devil Wears Prada, Hannah’s weight loss storyline in Pretty Little Liars, Bridget Jones’s record of her weight in Bridget Jones’s Diary. Even Sex and the City, for all of its empowering, 20-years-ahead-of-its-time observations, falls back into the conversation of losing weight over and over again. 

One might argue that these scenes are intentionally over-the-top and shouldn’t be taken too seriously. However, considering the influence of the media we consume on our real-life culture, the impacts shouldn’t be minimised. Not only is an unhealthy relationship with food expected in women and girls, but, to a degree, it is celebrated. Even further than that, it serves as something that women bond over. Granted, some of the dialogue about diet is satirical, and is making fun of this collective over-obsession, but that still doesn’t negate its place in reinforcing these expectations for women. 

Essentially, women have been socialised, by the media marketed specifically to them, to believe that uniting over wanting to change our bodies is inherent to our female relationships. 

Instead of diving into how irritating I find this, for I fear we could be all day, I want to take the trope in a more positive direction. Every girl and woman I know has struggled with their body image for at least some of their life, usually most of it (bear with me). It’s ingrained into our culture that we should always be striving to change something about our appearance and, more often than not, the conversation comes back to food.

As a second-year student, when I moved into a house of seven girls, the thought of how other people’s relationship with food and their bodies would affect my own certainly crossed my mind, because when you live with people, these things tend to surface. It’s no secret that house-sharing is an intense feat, and the longer you spend together, the more aware of each other’s habits you are. So, imagine my delight when I discovered that living with only girls would be the best my relationship with food and my body had ever been.

As a side note, I think the phrase “relationship with food/my body” has been heavily stigmatised, and when I talk about my own, it is not to imply that it has ever been awful, but, like many other girls, it has always been a conscious part of my day-to-day life. 

Image Credit: iStock

When we first started living together, the seven of us would regularly cook almost comically different meals on a nightly basis. However, as time has gone on, we have inspired each other’s meals, cooking the same thing more often, and eventually cooking all together when we can. Sharing meal ideas has become an act of love for us, wanting our friends to indulge in what we enjoy, so they can garner the same enjoyment. We also subconsciously time our dinners to ensure we are all cooking/eating around the same time, so we can chat and catch up on our days. Food has brought us together daily, and not in the way the movies wanted it to. Even working out, which our culture has a tendency to pervert into self-flagellation with Gymshark leggings on, has become some of our most quality time together, the endorphins muddling themselves with hysterical laughing fits.

Then there is, of course, the sweet treat. The foods that have been demonised our whole lives are the ones that bring us together the most. A giggly night time trip to Sainsbury’s, a cheeky movie snack while we squash on the sofa together – keto hasn’t stepped within 10 feet of our house. These are the foods labelled as “evil” by the protagonists of our favourite films, again often satirically, but never without basis for how they’re generally spoken of. But food that is fun and sweet and you enjoy it together, when everything’s in moderation, why not? 

To coin my previous phrase again, I don’t think anyone’s relationship with food or their body can ever be perfect – diet culture is too embedded in everything we do. However, that shouldn’t stop us from using our lifestyles to disregard all the nonsense we have been taught and instead turn something that has been polarising into a space for community. Food is at the heart of so many cultures, so let’s try and carry on the tradition of it bringing people together, rather than using it to tear ourselves apart.

Words by Anna Lawrence-Wasserberg

The best electronic music set in Leeds this year: Caribou + Ela Minus dazzle at Leeds O2 Academy

It’s a Sunday night in February and I walk down, alone, to Leeds O2 Academy. Content in my headphones, I am reminded of the last time I queued outside this venue. It was freshers week, only a few months ago, though it feels like a year. It was the first Indie Thursday of the term; I remember the half-excited, entirely-awkward crowd of newbie students. As I look at those around me now to see who has replaced the noise, sweat and slightly manic excitement of freshers, I spot a 6ft+ man in a leather trench, leather cap and steel-toed cowboy boots queued next to two women in Princess Polly attire. Parents with younger kids wait alongside couples, students, and individuals like me – the broad appeal of Caribou’s uplifting electronic sound evident from beyond the vacant stage. This is my first time going to a gig by myself and I feel a certain nostalgia for my first days living in Leeds, the Caribou classic ‘Home’ playing from my phone, now a poignant soundtrack to this milestone of my newfound independence. 

As I wait by the barriers, cold starts to work its way through my Leeds layers, trepidation simultaneously building at the prospect of entering the cramped setting of Projekt. I begin to wonder what I should expect – a loud gig with one man on stage pressing some buttons on concealed DJ decks, with all the charisma of London posers mixing in Hyde Park? As if to dispel my doubts, an apparition appears. It is Dan Snaith picking up his Deliveroo dinner from beside the back door to the venue. An ordinary man, inconspicuous in a t-shirt and plain trousers, understandably goes unnoticed by those around me, though as he disappeared back into the venue, I felt a buzz at the thought of his imminent transformation. Like Clark Kent into Superman, I was now eagerly anticipating leaving the familiarity of the puddled Leeds streets to be taken into Caribou’s world of light, colour and bass-driven good times. I was not to be disappointed. 

Support act: Ela Minus 

Ela Minus is a Colombian multi-instrumentalist, producer and singer taking the techno world into her own hands. With a Björk-like air and the confidence of a musician settled into their artistry, this exciting performer positions herself in front of the DJ controller and promptly takes ownership of the stage. Buttons and dials are in full view of the audience; Minus herself is facing away. What follows is a masterclass in natural performance. At one point, I become convinced that Minus has forgotten about the crowd whilst she skip-dances across stage, sings with ease, keeps the pace and excitement with the electronic elements whilst making everyone feel included. A real show, yes, but one that encouraged attention as well as participation. The audience moved to every beat; there was a sense of a falling in love: for her music, her dance but also EDM as a whole. Minus’ presence and intense use of bass turns a Caribou crowd into eager, raving Minus fans. Her track ‘Broken’ from new album DÍA (2025), has been described by Pitchfork as “a cry for help that swells into a soul-purifying baptism-by-rave”. When the track rang out, the hair-vibrating levels of bass surpassed any previous gig volumes in my experience, pulling us into the intensity of healing by dance. It felt like an invitation to something special and, whether we purified our souls or not, we accepted it readily.

Caribou 

Building on the energy that Ela Minus had created, Caribou transfixes the audience. The levels of light, colour and volume start lower and gradually build up, creating an all-consuming set that uplifts and surprises. 

In the opening segment of the gig, Caribou keeps the stage in black and white as the band plays a few tracks from the lesser-known depths of his discography until a final crescendo and drop into the crowd-pleasing ‘Odessa’ when the venue was plunged into red lights and geometric patterns were projected behind the band. A striking start encourages consistent dancing from those around me, and I genuinely feel myself smiling at the stage as I eagerly await what’s to come. Caribou’s live performance consists of Snaith and his bandmates, Ryan Smith (guitar, keyboards), John Schmersal (bass, keyboards) and Brad Weber (drums). For some tracks, Dan and Brad face each other, both playing drumkits with a musicality that brings an electrifying definition to the drum solo. The energy of the three of them on stage takes over: everyone around me, including those I see when I crane my head to check out the balcony above, are on their feet dancing. At one point the sounds produce the sensation of being inside a siren (in an exciting, sonic-absorption kind of way); at most other points, the music simply encourages uninhibited dance. Caribou were smiling throughout, Snaith using the few breaks between pieces of the free-flowing setlist to look out at the crowd, expressing a gratitude that felt genuine. The pace is kept up for the whole evening, more intense EDM shifting seamlessly into classics such as ‘Sun’ and ‘Never Come Back’. It was fun and loud, at times soulful and always, consistently, joyous. The noise, bass, and dazzling beams made me consider at one point that I may leave O2 that night with reduced vision and hearing, a price that, in the infectious fun of Caribou’s set, seemed a reasonable one to pay. The musical highlight, however, has to be the 2,300 people (plus the 3 band members) singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to the drummer, Brad. Electronic and dance music contributed an estimated £2.4 billion to the UK economy last year. Nevertheless, it is a genre, scene and entire community that is constantly being neglected – take the closure of Leeds’ very own Old Red Bus Station as a microcosm for this wider issue. My ticket for Caribou had a face value of £49.50 so it is understandable why there was a lack of students in the crowd. However, there are ways to support the local garage and electronic scene here in Leeds. Get yourself to Caribou or Ela Minus’ tour if you can, look out for smaller-cost clubnights such as Cosmic Slop (which Caribou has DJ’d at for free), or events at smaller venues. As Caribou has said about his own work, EDM “makes people happy”. Indeed, when I later listened to his 2025 album Honey back at my flat, I found myself dancing on my own in the shared kitchen, inevitably being caught twirling around while eating buttered toast. My recommendation for 2025? Go to the loudest gig of an artist you love, but go alone.

Written by Francesca Lynes

A Band that’s Big in the Suburbs: Interview with art-pop band Welly

Do you remember your Year 6 school disco? It’s too early to leave, so stay with me, dear Reader. The dance floor rammed with your classmates, the memories of your hometown looking too much like a world out of a Where’s Wally puzzle, the endless queue of kids outside the corner shop fiending for Lucozade and that one unbranded 50p chocolate bar 10 minutes before the school bell goes. All of these small life dramas are taken for granted when bands consider writing music about where they are from and what life experience they have to bring forth in whatever repackaged version of grungy post-punk they have bleed their fingers over. What even is the term ‘gentrified pop’? Pop surely can’t be gentrified anymore than it already is, you may say to yourself, draped in an Idles or Black Country New Road tee (ironic), IPA in hand and permanently frowning over your lack of Hinge matches. I get it; a subculture of Leeds students may not at all be phased with joy as a primary emotion in music about the world outside, without feeling guilty.

Allow me to introduce you to Welly, pop’s answer to social commentary about the latest drama in your local village Facebook group. If you were getting bored of listening to whiny love songs and wished that somebody would just write a song about the bins not being collected, this band from the suburbs might just be the answer to your boredom. With their debut album Big in the Suburbs dropping on March 21st, this band has come in hot with live sets incorporating magic shows, shoe stealing and cowbells? But on a wildly windy Friday afternoon, I dodge the comically scary obstacle course that temporarily erupted in Woodhouse Moor to hunch over my laptop and chat on Zoom with frontman Elliot.

On the surface, there’s so much of British culture oozing out of their music that it’s quite easy to compare Welly to Britpop pioneers Pulp or even Blur. “I was hearing people singing about the supermarket and common people. It’s not so much that I am inspired by Britpop, it’s that I am inspired by the sort of ‘cottage industry’, the sort of hobbyist element of British life. I can speak quite candidly about school discos, playing knock n’ run – that’s where it comes from.” Inspiration for building the world of Welly is very visual and all in his surroundings. “The suburbs to me are as much of a muse to me, as a lover would be a painter or daffodils were to Wordsworth. I find a dead end street with pretty little gardens and really nosy neighbours.”

Take their music video for album opener ‘Big in the Suburbs’ as an example for how CBBC unknowingly defined a generation, idolising the Dick and Dom’s and Horrid Henry brats in the room. “I always liked how Madness do their music videos. In ‘House of Fun’, one of them is a clown, one of them is a jester, and a barber. Whatever the song is, they always play the roles of the characters in the song.” 

Self-produced by the band, the perfectionism of releasing a debut album is one that most bands have to succumb to. “The album is really homemade. We made it a year ago now, all by ourselves at my dad’s house. Now that’s finished and I keep thinking of what I could have done differently, I compensate with the visuals. The day we were mixing the album, we were saying ‘we could have done this, we could have done this’. I’d rather just get stuff out or else it would never go anywhere.” But a debut project is meant to be raw. It’s a band at their most authentic. “We’re very proud of it, and it’s what a debut album should sound like.”

There’s an ever evolving image of what a debut album is supposed to be and whether it aligns with a band’s message. Narratively, this debut album is very centered on a caricature Southern suburb, zooming in on all the gossip and happenings of everyday people. I ask if there is already a sequel written for the saga. “Album 2 was written before we even signed the record deal, we’re just not sure on what it will sound like yet. I want to focus more on fast food, junk food and instant gratification culture. The 3rd album will be the prog rock Genesis project that no one really wants to listen to.” Soon, there’ll be a cosmopolitan city of sound made up of the band’s sound, whether that’s them hoping to pursue hyperpop or even a baroque project. “It’s about throwing stuff at the wall and I was lucky that the first thing I threw at the wall stuck, which is what Welly is.”

For now, the album opens with its titular track ‘Big in the Suburbs’, opening up the world of Welly with a formal introduction of ‘Welcome to the brand new great British zoo’. I got some further insight on the rest of the tracks. “‘Home for the Weekend’ was the first song that started the project. I never really felt homesick but I was always really gagging to leave home, which for me is a suburbia outside of Southampton. When I moved to Brighton for university, I suddenly went ‘oh I quite miss it’. Bizarrely, I had a seizure and spent hours in Brighton A&E and that’s when I came up with ‘Big in the Suburbs.’ ‘Knock and Run’ is a rip off of the macarena if you listen close enough. There’s also sadder slower songs and it isn’t just all a big joke. Hopefully, if you have already written Welly off, there might be something there to surprise you.” 

Hopefully, none of you have yet. You could argue there’s a strong self-awareness to the music, and most of today’s guitar music expresses a deep need for social commentary on the state of the world, but in a more pessimistic and often overdone way. The difference with Welly is the amount of fun and comedy they exude on stage, and they succeed in striking a balance between wit and sincerity when making music sound really British. “It’s far more pessimistic and less arty than it used to be in the 80s. It feels like the music now is shouting at me. Yeah, but could you embellish it?”

Formed in Brighton, there were many grassroots venues that they owe their start to and continue to praise. “Places like The Green Door Store, The Prince Albert and Hope and Ruin, all that lot. Heartbreakers and The Joiners (Southampton) too.” The scene seems to have become a tight-knit community where their DIY project flourished way more than it could in a glorified London. I don’t think Welly would have got off the ground in London, but in Brighton, it’s not like we could bring our friends to shows because we didn’t know anybody when we moved here. We sort of had to put on our shows and play gobby to get people’s attention, which is how we made those friends through gigs. It’s a very accommodating place and I think they’re up for something kind of odd.”

There’s so much about not being a London centric band anymore. Playing in London is impossible. Welly’s recently announced seaside tour or previous North/South tours showcase their passion to play in small, dingy venues that reach the smaller, more neglected pockets of the music industry around the country. 

“You’re way better off trying to be the biggest band in Leeds than be bottom of the bill in London. We are playing to all of our friends, we played in Nottingham with 5 other bands and they were all having so much more fun than any prick in Hoxton. If you go to Falmouth, they have such a great scene there and what’s great for a touring band like ours is that their biggest band will support. Same thing in Huddersfield, Shrewsbury, Swansea. We get to meet their community. There’s 5 bands, they’ve all got the same drummer, they’re all having so much more fun than working in a coffee shop 9-5 just to play once a year at The George Tavern. Move out, have fun somewhere else. Brighton, if anything, is one of the bigger and harder ones.”

And with that, a toast to our beloved local music scenes. It’s Welly’s reimagined world of what would happen if Horrid Henry grew up with his band, and we’re all living in it.

Written by Eszter Vida