Crescenter by day, drag diva by night, Projoy's showstopping rendition of Dreamgirls anthem "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going" has to be seen and heard to be believed. The same passion is evident in his MC play, by turns lyrical and fierce -- and when it comes to diagonal pickering in the third quadrant he can really belt 'em out. Both roles occasionally combine to striking effect: few realise that Projoy's famous Acre Street moves were whipped up on a trusty foot-treddle Singer using offcuts from some of his glitzier frocks.

There is a strange cult of fanatics called the BeeBops who believe that if the correct arrangement of tube stations has been energised during a game of Crescent then the God Beboth will rise again and dowse his followers in the richest creamiest custard. Note that "Bob the Dog" is an anagram of "God Beboth", revealing this player as one such BeeBop fanatic who no doubt dons the regulation uniform of lime green Y-fronts and marmite smeared legs. Watch out for his frequent use of cult code words such as "kipper", "Bromsgrove" and "Mark E Smith" during his fevered analytical play and be warned; never eat his custard creams.

Born in Camberwell in 1667, fortuitously escaping both the Great Plague and ensuing Fire of London (and indeed the blame for the same), Thos has been kept alive to this day by liberal application of Royal Jelly and as such has quite rightly become a National Institution in his own right. Indeed, around the time that Robert Walpole became the first British Prime Minister, there were calls from literally several people for Thos to be considered instead for the role; similarly there have been many vain calls for public holidays dedicated in his honour. Perhaps the most fascinating fact about Thos is that not only did he play both Mr Big and Sherrif J W Pepper in the Bond movie Live and Let Die, he also co-wrote the screenplay, and was the inspiration behind the theme tune more popularly credited to the McCartneys.

Custard Cream anyone?

The diminutive Mr Way is known throughout the Morniverse for his niggardly style of play and base sense of humour. This unfortunate penchant for fart jokes derives from his childhood on the shores of a hot mud spring in New Zealand where, if one is being honest, there isn't much else to find amusing. That notwithstanding, the skills which he learnt in sensing the imminent arrival of and dodging the inevitable ejecta from those foul eructations of superheated volcanic steam (flavoured as they are with hydrogen sulphide) have proved invaluable on the Golden Field of play where it is impossible to surprise him with anything much less extreme than a forty kilotoken cascade. The walls of awards, trophies and memorabilia collected over the decades of brutal competition are a testament to Paul's uncompromising play and unwavering will to win.