Chronological retelling of a jump across the pond via DIY-4-lyfe acoustic-folkie-punx; neatly separated by country, or on binary occasion, body of water. This all too lovable platonic-duo powerhouse is boisterously chirpy both in general tone and in the puerility of their agog-n-intricate recollecting, and the companionship between 'em is as vital to the journey being described as it is to the tunes being played. They're kindred spirits with big backpacks and stinky feet who can only/barely afford campgrounds/cans of beans/peanut butter and prefer to sleep in a trash-laden bush beside the interstate or procure free fries from a flute-playing hippie anyway. Their cons include monstrous cows, slimy slugs, rainfall, paying for Stonehenge/bathrooms/hotels/almost anything. Pros include feeding animals that aren't bothersome, sunlight, nature, Ireland, interactions with ride providers, soy ice cream, free anything -- and the overtly overriding sense of freedom and adventure, duh.
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