They're like big slabs of raw steak with guitars. Look out for these guys causing havoc in a bar near you. In preparation I would advise the following: grab your leather jacket from under the stairs and don't wash for a week; throw some beer in someone's face and cause a fight; get a naked lady tattooed on your bicep. There, now you're ready for the stinking, rotten, brilliantly indulgent tour-de-force that is Machine Guns and Leather Jackets. BY KATHRYN HOLDEN 'JAN, 2010'