So I shove this in my ailing PC. Poor, poor PC. This CD has one of those video things that just go ahead and run on before you have a chance to get your guard up. Poor, poor me. The band manage to smuggle in ten-seconds of premium, cheeseball Yankee-spaz-bounce before this absolute gift of a first line, “Excuse me, am I nauseous?” drags its maimed carcass into view. Really, you can almost see the words blushing.

Strip Lostprophets of all their tunes and you’d be left with the gutter-strewn pile of useless organs that is Hiding With Girls. Like wings on a Dodo. In fact, they’re almost too easy to attack; I could tell you how contrived, stagnant and inconsequential this single is, but it feels wrong. Like sneaking up on the last lonely Dodo with a rail-gun, or shooting into a barrel of (blind) fish.

The supposedly home-grown voices here, (Brighton? What, via Jewish New York?), are the same voices you’ll hear on every other record by a band that are ostensibly showing off their 'genuine emotions’; but are actually just trying to use public pity and angst to score squelch points with fat girls who still think semi-ironic devil horns are funny. Ditch you!