“I don’t know. They’ve been coming for a long time.”
“That’s what makes it even scarier,” Sam Potter concurs with bandmate Ross Matthews, “the fact that they’ve been coming for so long. People might forget and then, when they actually do come, it might be twice the disaster. It’s like the snowfall the other day, the bears came and London wasn’t prepared, so it hit them.”
Welcome to Late of the Pier’s distinctly warped universe, which tonight (thanks to their “really tough” bus driver) has torn a dimensional rip in a dressing room located in the grey bowels of Wolverhampton, allowing my mere mortal self to converse with visitors who themselves look suspiciously like male humans in their early twenties. Drummer/Ron Weasley understudy Ross and electronic whizz-kid Sam are discussing when the titular fuzzies of their shape-shifting, funk monster The Bears Are Coming are due to arrive, a debate that results in them considering penning a sequel. “Yeah,” Sam laughs, “The Bears Are Here. Or The Bears Are Still Coming.”
