“Howz ya dinner?” enquired Gareth Liddiard, swigging goon from a plastic water bottle and squinting out at the seated diners. “I can’t see many food stains out there but then again, I can’t see many white shirts either.”
For all his lexical brilliance in verse, Liddiard has far fewer words at his disposal when caught in banter not in song. Clearly half-tanked at…
