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Sleaford Mods: Minimalist and monologue to himself
The man stands alone with his microphone.
He speaks frantically of a language that only they know. The words are repeated one after the other, one after the other. He speaks to her frantically of a language that only the two of them know. And he speaks to her constantly.
Now the man moves with his microphone like a tango dancer. Dance tanguero dance. Tangue tanguero Tangue.
Halo? Hello finally he addresses his numerous public. He responds to her as hypnotized by this flow of words and words. The man scolds the British social disrepair and the ravages caused by mass consumption. Punk, rap and electro, the Sleaford Mods denounce.
The man touches his stomach. The man lifts his legs like a Crazy dancer. The man is strange. The man dances, the man does not care. The man keeps repeating. The man is a ventriloquist of which he is himself the puppet. The man oscillates from the basin. A cabaret dancer has her body. He mimes the ears of a bunny´s girl. The man is squirming. In turn tanguero, turn to turn Crazy girl, turns man with his microphone.