Q: So, this is... the band's second single composed and arranged primarily by... Haddock, was it?
Hiddock (he/him), guitarist: Hiddock.
Deryn (presumed she/her), bassist: [incoherent]
St. Tuna Piano (he/him), frontman & drummer: Yeah, no input from me at all, man. Real inspiring stuff. Shame Petr coul'n't sing vocals again.
Q: ... What was the reason this time?
St. Tuna Piano: Cuz 'e choked on a bell pepper, that's wot. Irrevokably out o' commission.
Deryn: [incoherent]
Hiddock: Truth be told, I was initially inspired after our day trip to Um'ami — er, before it flooded last week, that is — but it wasn't until Shipshape Cargo Co. broke into the whole Turf War shtick that this idea just... arose through spontaneous generation; Squid Athena being birthed, fully formed, from her own skull.
I mean, like, this new battleground floats through the remains of the polar ice caps — in essence, the impetus of both humanity's extinction and the Great Turf War, now used for a mundane cargo route and commercialized inkspewing. Don't you think that's oddly messed up?
Q: Couldn't say. Anyway: there seems to be some degree of curiousity regarding a sample used around the one-minute mark. Any remarks?
Hiddock: From a demo tape we found. Lost media; fit the theme. You wouldn't believe if we told you how we got it.
Deryn: [fervent babble; no less comprensible]
Q: I... don't believe she was even invited to this interview. How, uh... why is your bassist present?
Hiddock: Well, "present" isn't... the word I would use. She's here, certainly.
St. Tuna Piano: She comes n' goes as she pleases. Sorry if she touches anythin', 'er hands get all sticky.
Q: Yes, but where did she come from?
St. Tuna Piano: Same place anyone does, I 'xpect.
Hiddock: Under a bridge.
St. Tuna Piano (abruptly): Don't worry about it. We, eh, take care of her. Or somethin'.
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