It's like a vodka party in a hurricane. Dr Sultana shouts into a megaphone, Al throws beer at Chairman Meaw, Hitachi!, Wampa and Spencer Brown, all bloody in their tattered once-new Mexican sea shanty threads, heads on pikes - the perfect accessory. Guy throws cymbals back. They thud wet and buttery against Spencer's head. They continue to play loud and fast, their best Melt Banana impression, their best Soil & Pimp Sessions, Fanfare Ciocarlia impressions, and the people don't flinch: they dance, gyrate and fornicate. The East End 6-piece, both individually and as a band unit, have tried to calm them down, but it never works. Welcome to the wonderful world of Deathray Trebuchay.