BIOGRAPHY    

SMASH! TUMBLE! OOOOW! Nick fell up the stairs, flew through the attic door and landed in a quivering heap on the dusty floorboards. He jumped up, straightened himself out and started towards Emily who had, until then, been sawing and hammering away at a block of wood at the far end of the attic. She casually turned to face the gibbering figure that had broken the silence.
“I’ve got it!” affirmed Nick.
“What?” replied Emily.
“I’ve got it! Listen to this!” He leaned forward and whispered through Emily’s jet-black hair into her earhole. When Nick had finished Emily stepped back, scratched her head and fixed him with a quizzical gaze.
“Well…It might just work…Perhaps with the help of these!” She reached back to where she had been working and spun round again, grinning. In each hand she clasped a beautiful, gleaming guitar – perfectly crafted in every way.
“OF COURSE!” cried Nick. He grabbed one of the guitars and the pair hurriedly strapped on their new instruments. They looked at each other wide-eyed and ecstatic for a second, and then launched themselves into the air, strumming the biggest chord they could strum! They landed with a thud, completely out of breath.
“That was MASSIVE!” said Emily
“But not massive enough!” replied Nick.
They knew what they had to do.

So Nick and Emily went and sat by the phone. They crossed their fingers and wished as hard as they could both wish. And what do you know? The phone rang! RING! RING!
“Hello?”
It was Munch with a big old bass guitar thundering down the phone! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The windows in the house rattled and the foundations groaned under the strain.
“That’s that sorted then,” the trio agreed, beaming at each other with pride.

Next they made a call to Charley – an old chum from the days at the academy. Within hours Charley had taken her rightful place behind the seething tangle of wires, endless archaic control leavers and dimly glowing lights that is Little Trophy’s awesome electronic sound arsenal. BEEP! SCREECH! SQUELCH! The din was so fantastic that Nick was shocked into a sudden involuntary motion of the bowels.
“That’s that sorted then,” the foursome concurred, grinning like mischievous little sprats.

Then came the hard times.

Little Trophy was incomplete – missing a limb, without which it would get nowhere fast. The search began.

For many a long season our heroes scoured the darkest rat infested basements of the city and the bleakest wind swept moorlands in search of a rhythmically inclined fifth member. Munch thought he saw one down a soily hole – but then he realised that it was just a leaf. Nick saw a creature by a lake, which he thought he might be able to trick into playing the drums. It squawked at him and flapped its giant wings, sending Nick running off in fear for his life.

The quest was long and fruitless. With their resolve broken the failing four prepared to head home, eat one last frugal supper of yams, climb into their bed (with one space still sadly empty) and close their eyes to sleep the final sleep.

WHEN OUT OF NOWHERE A MIRACLE CAME! It came in the earthly guise of Malcolm (a chap so chirpy his presence actually negates bad weather), and blimey did he make a racket! BASH! CRASH! SMASH! Everyone and everything for miles around plugged their ears and scrambled for cover.
“That’s that sorted then,” the fully-fledged five roared in harmony.

From that special day onwards a beautiful noise came out from the five Little Trophies, like a torrent of greasy wee spewing all over the bedroom floor.

That’s the way they like it so don’t you even try and clean up the mess!