Barney Tabor, a classically trained fiend and vagabond,
Robin Timmis, a fiddle-toting dervish and musical force of nature, and
Alex Chadha, a charity shop chord-man of the worst stripe.
An enthusiastic trio, you may have seen them stomping down the Rocky Road to Dublin, or bemoaning their recent transportation to Tasmania, betrayed by a lady of the night, but, however afflicted, you’ll no doubt have enjoyed their lack of professionalism and frank disregard for the dense jungles of originality.
Performing an array of folk classics, as well as their own vibrant compositions, the Bums’ Rush will not only arouse your suspicions, tickle your curiosities, and fidget with your soft parts, but also get you stamping your feet, bellowing along, and cheering with undiminished joy when they finally get off the stage and leave you in peace.
So, if these roustabouts happen to be offending in a beerhall near you, I suggest, in all impartiality, that you get off your backside and go and behold the spectacle, if only so you can be an effective witness in the ensuing court case. You may be disappointed, but you may also be drunk.