But the strangler's disquiet proved unbased. The snarl opened its jaws and Shelyid popped out, none the worse for wear.

When the album succeeds, such as on the swaggering, Queen-esque “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us,” it does so on The Darkness’ own terms—that is, as a random ’80s-cliché generator. But with so many tired, lazy callbacks to its own threadbare catalog (including “Love Is Not The Answer,” a watery echo of the epic “I Believe In A Thing Called Love” from 2003’s Permission To Land), Hot Cakes marks the point where The Darkness has stopped cannibalizing the golden age of stadium rock and simply started cannibalizing itself. And, despite Hawkins’ inveterate crotch-grabbing, there was never that much meat there to begin with.

In an echelon, in which several cyclists are sitting in on one another, each rider takes his turn of about 200 meters at the front before dropping to the rear.

Bot[tom]. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and Thisby, that will neuer pleaſe. Firſt, Piramus muſt draw a ſword to kill himſelfe; which the Ladys cannot abide. How anſwer you that? / Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare. Bottom. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot abide. How do you answer that? / Snout. By 'r lakin [i.e., by our Lady], a dire problem.