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.

[BtD] No, thank you. Do you have any bourbons?

Self-effacing to the point of hermitism, matt is rarely seen by day - in fact he is rarely seen at all, cooped up as he is in his electronics-stuffed garret in Silicon Valley. Surrounded by machines of dazzling complexity, all of his own creation, he simmultaneously posts to a thousand websites, mostly propounding his strong NRA pro-gun ethics and attempting to make the death penalty legal in every so-called democracy. His postings to the Morniverse should be seen in this context, as the tiniest filament of the web of internet presence that is "matt". His favorite book is 1984, which he believes to be a Utopian view of the future.

Graet!
That's the only way to describe rab’s success - at least in his home town of Bromsgrove.

This is a profile of an evergreen rocker who nearly scored six number ones in the 1980s, and who has survived 20 years in the business by evolving from skinhead to glamrocker and finally to postpunk-nu-metal acidhead.

What can one say about rab that has not already been summed up in his 1986 biopic movie Watership Down, which eschewed the bright and breezy Spiceworld approach to film-making in favour of more gritty realism? Acclaimed film critic Poppy Wangsnapper believes it to be the best rock musical of all time, with perhaps a bleak ending. It may be 17 years since rab took the nation by storm, but in these days of MP3s and hi-tech, crystal clear recording, it's nice to know that those far from dulcet tones will be delightfully deafening long furry ears for years to come.