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Ferociously funky flipped out Finns crash land in the ice of your cocktail
glass (again) like tiny iridescent germs, pupate and take over to split
from the inside out in scenes reminiscent of ‘The Thing’. Insanely sane
scientists in their lair unleashing the sound of bubbling chemistry labs,
experiments gone wrong and creating hideous monstrosities, hula girls in
huge sunglasses and tiny dresses, guys with serious ‘taches and chest
hair. Jungle jazz for the urban skyscraperline, poolside perma-party
panty-line perverts, ayahuasca astronauts on the cosmic calypso reef,
shape-shifting, dimension straddling seers and sages, kitsch n’ tiki cool
levitationeers, dwellers in fantasy fare, mad mountain mystics and
gearheads melting the mambo motorways and boogaloo byways. Such tropical
beach-hut boogie delights could well cause the seas to swell by melting
ice caps. In the meantime slice the fruit, sip on this and slip into a hot
spa. Slipping into seventies swimsuit entirely optional. _______________________________________________________ |