Pre-eminence of Squid.

Once more unto the 229. This time, we had fire in our bellies. And by fire, I mean Red Stripe, red wine and Jack Daniel's which the hosts graciously provided as a rider. Our performance seemed to strike the right chord with the audience which, admittedly, was the only right chord we struck all night. But that aside, it seems our filth and fury was enough to take the night, the trophy and the slot at Cannes. Allegedly. Checka checka the photos, the video and the review.