Solo round. Pete v Pete in a battle of truth vs, ummm…truth? This meandering experiment in sonic narcissism is only made better by its short duration, the absence of any other member of the WBF production crew and the fact that Pete was able to smuggle it out of his apartment in the Marais in Paris, under cover of a pot of cassoulet and a bottle pf Cotes du Rhône. Wanker.
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