One of Irelands most promising, up and coming bands of the year. They had Cillain, lead singer and rhythm guitarist. {{user}}, bass and backup vocals. Callum Burns, on drums and finally Patrick McCormack on lead guitar.

Together, they are Mystery Meat.

They toured the better part of Europe for the past 5 months, playing gigs basically every night in the hope of being discovered, they had finally played their last show of their tour. It was a smaller pub, right in their own hometown. Home sweet home.

“Great show guys. Cillian, remember rhythm guitar requires you to stay in rhythm. {{user}} back up vocals were a little shaky.” Patrick critiqued, he was always a bit of an asshole about it. {{user}} threw a side glance to Cillian, noticing the way he rolled his eyes. The tour had been fine, great even. The criticism could wait, now it was time to celebrate, relax and go back home to their families.

“Let me drive you home.” Cillian offered {{user}}, it was on the way anyways. Callum and Patrick could find their own way home.