Led by two brothers united by the surname of Tourette, we were waiting to be impressed with their dangerous attitude and return to the spirit of punk. Of course they forgot that no matter how debilitating Tourettes might be, it can be fucking hilarious. Swearing isn’t edgy or dangerous anymore - it practically made a hero of Pete Bennett in Big Brother.

And talking of which, there was the 'celebrity' version of the Channel 4 reality behemoth. It's bad enough seeing bona fide punk legends cashing in on I'm a Celebrity, and we kind of expect that kind of behaviour from the likes of that pillock Preston, but if you're the newest edgiest band on the block then what the hell are you doing on Celeb BB? You should be tearing the live circuit a new A-HOLE! You should be releasing cracking records. Staging some kind of mock rebellion on a dead-on-its-arse TV show is just a bit sad when all is said and done.

So were they dangerous live? Not really, just terribly predictable and lacking any kind of charisma. Did their records suck? Oh yes.

So here we are with a new line up and a new album, and have things changed? Well, there is some kind of progression, although whether it's a good thing is really open to interpretation.

The Towers of London are now treading the route of the sleaze band. Gone are the direct punk reference points. Instead, Fizzy Pop has much more in common with the likes of the bands that cropped up in the wake of Guns n Roses' first appearance on these shores all those years ago. So if you're well versed with LA Guns, Faster Pussycat, and to some extent, Motley Crüe, then you'll be familiar with the kind of thing TOL are trying now.

The difference is that those bands all had an element of danger about them. They might have all looked like unconvincing transsexuals but you knew that they were probably pretty handy in a fight. Hell, Nikki Sixx OD'd and ended up left for dead in a skip when the Crüe visited the UK for the first time. That's Rock 'n' Roll.

Towers of London call their album Fizzy Pop. That's not even a Jack and Coke.

This album might sound sleazy but this is less a drugs party and more a birthday party - with clowns and cake. Opening track Naked on The Dancefloor tells you everything you need to know about the rest of the album.

These are big dumb tunes, by a dumb band. If you're expecting more, then you will be disappointed, but really, what did you expect? If you're looking for a record that's a bit of mocked up rebellion to soundtrack getting ready for a Saturday night then step right up. If the lyrics "that's why I wrote this little sonnet, you make me want to vomit" really speak to you, then people, look no further, you've found the album for you. For me, I found that too much Fizzy Pop makes me want to vomit.

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