My automatic response to The Automatic? Projectile vomit, so copious that whatever device dares to massacre my ears with this bloated, painful song, is drowned in a sea of emerald green stomach bile. Sticky, acrid stomach bile that hits the device with an audible splash, then proceeds to burn through all the transistors, fuses and contacts, rendering the speakers muted, defunct, kaput.

If it was you who requested this to be played on the radio, you have my sympathy. Are you so stupefied that you find this ditchwater enthralling? Are you so brainwashed that you believed this was exciting? Do you have any sensory judgement at all? The chorus – “What’s that coming over the hill / Is it a monster? Is it a monster?” repeated ad infinitum, is of the most conceivably obvious variety. No need to remember lyrics - you can all sing along with vacant meaning at your chosen corporate, vapid festival. You can all jump up and down to this ‘stomper’, its comedy screams and caveman-like monosyllabic delivery. Don’t lambaste me for ‘missing the point’, for not noticing how ‘fun’ this is. Fun is when Deerhoof sprinkle me with Technicolor melodies, or when Hot Chip sneak wit into a dance floor hit. Fun isn’t being bludgeoned over the head, causing my skull’s brain content to seep out of the fractures, with a chorus as delicately crafted as a battering ram.

I assume this single is an edited version. They have clipped the final chorus, where the ruddy monster they blather on about, finally ambles up to the half-wits and rips their silly neanderthal faces right off, blood everywhere.