They call us bad company — Five Finger Death Punch at Wembley

When I was thirteen, I owned my first rock album, Infest, by Papa Roach. And when I say owned, it was actually borrowed from the girl who sat next to me in class. My mother would have never permitted purchase of an album with that well-placed black and white sticker that advises parents of explicit…

The Festival. Day two. Of babywipes and breakfast.

Beautiful people, I know this is way overdue. I think I grossly overestimated my available creative mind-space in the idea to start a new serial the week before starting a new job! When I sat down to write this weekend after a full day of visitng Wimbledon (check out my instagram feed ^_-) on Saturday and…