Ah, the good doctor, who, like his tardis-travelling namesake, can be found virtually in any place at any time. Erudite, learned, witty, with nary a hint of the malice, agression or repressed hostility that seems so often to pervade the contributions of many of his fellow toilers in the fertile linguistic vineyard that is MC, he straddles the virtual multiverse like a Titan, needing to make nothing more than a comment here and there, the odd line of verse and occasionally an MC move of such subtelty and finess as to defy analysis, to leave us mere mortals quailing and floundering in the bow wave of the battleship of his intellect. Such a pity that his real name's Malcolm and that he's the assistant manager of Beaumont Beds in Lewisham High Street.

Dan may be best known in the MC community for running the MCiOS server, notorious hotbed of radical conservatism, but that is just one tiny corner of the multimedia propaganda empire masterminded by this darling of the New Right. His hectic schedule of rabble-rousing talk radio, Fox News panel discussions, prolific liberal-bashing newspaper screeds (syndicated worldwide) and constant personal appearances everywhere from college campuses to white-supremacist militia camps, leaves barely time for sleep and food, let alone Mornington Crescent. Yet this heroic scourge of the left still manages not only to maintain his own MC site but contribute moves to dozens of games elsewhere, all in his characteristically merciless, go-getting style. Bleeding heart crescenters beware!

The hand-picked successor to Colin Sell, JLE (actually related to Dunx, but neither will admit it) is the foremost proponent of the Ruttsborough Style of MC since, well, Eamon Ruttsborough himself. Quite a shame as he applies it to his music. He is also a well-known amateur cricketer who boasts that he can bowl a wrong'un, despite no evidence of it ever being seen by anyone sober -- along with the claims of hitting 5 sixes in an over (never attested to), and clean-bowling Nick Knight (everyone's done that). When he's not tickling the keys of the piano, keyboard, or his Vauxhall Nova, he can be seen leading the cheers at Manchester City matches with his little baton.

In an effort to hide the circumstance that he is, in fact, an unusually home-loving person who seldom if ever stirs outside the borders of Llandudno, CdM has been known to play MC around the clock, thereby simulating a presence in almost every part of the known world. His hobbies include Sumo wrestling and growing potted fronds, and he works as a part-time name writer for IKEA products.

Kevan is, in fact, an entirely artificial construct. Generated by mistake in a top secret Haywards Heath laboratory, "he" is in fact several million lines of unterminated code, replicating "him"self every 2 years, the clone killing its parent as soon as it works out how to terminate all the uncommented instructions. It is believed that Kevan deduced the existence of the Internet from first principles, and established a connection in spite of there being no comms link to the server on which he resides. "His" minders have given up attempts to power down the server, and now simply keep "him" pointed to various MC serves, observing that "he" manages to pass the Turing test in the context of these games without anyone suspecting. Engage "him" in open play if you must, but remember - like the Urban Spaceman, baby - he don't exist!

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.

[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.

[Dunx] Sorry, no. Would a Wagon Wheel do?

[BtD] Oh. Never mind then. I would ask for a garibaldi, but I suspect that would be in the same category as the custard creams.

Many are called to the Morniverse, but few are blessed with the extraordinary blend of luck, skill and irresistible charm that characterised Lord Hamilton's illustrious career. Although he no longer participates at the competitive level, he is fondly remembered by all who saw him in action, and in the years since his retirement his name has become a byword for courteous and enlightened play. All too often in these dark, hubristic times, when the spirit of Eamonn Ruttsborough casts its long shadow across the land, one finds oneself harking back to a more civilized age to say "This would never have happened in Lord Hamilton's day."