It began in a swamp. Well, in a Tipi in a swamp, with a telephone attached to an ironbark gum. This is not fiction. This is the cold smoking truth. The bearded man was born. Many years passed to the sounds of Tom Waits, AC/DC, Tim Buckley, The Black Keys, Pantera and Springsteen. The young bearded man moved to a bigger swamp filled with smoke and bars and girls. A land of knife fights and drug dens and muscle cars and rock’n’roll. He lost his way and began to despair. Half drowned in Jack Daniels he prowled his new domain.