"That was our last song, goodnight" - if The Flesh Happening's opening line seemed perverse, it was barely a whiff of what was to come.
Soon the Cowley Club was trembling with dark, insistent punk-rock riffs. "Hold my tongue so I can't speak," screeched frontman Oliva Spleen, ripping off the rear section of his flesh-coloured bodysuit and flinging it into the crowd.
With no tongue-holders forthcoming, his primal wails continued.
The audience thrashed about him ecstatically, edging away only when an object pulled from his posterior came flying towards them.
TFH are a truly talented band with some exquisite - if unsettling - lyrics, and a wonderfully urgent, pared-down sound.
Hitler And Jesus is a particular gem, though tonight some of the words were lost amidst the attention-grabbing antics.
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