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."

It gives me great pleasure to lift the veil and reveal to you all that our beloved Penelope is actually Madonna and much to her delight she has managed to keep this quite for a long time (I wonder how many other celebs are hiding out down here?!). The pressure of fame quite often gets a bit much for Madge and there's nothing that she finds more relaxing than being amongst her Crescenter friends. Of course, when attending Pligs she wears a disguise (and very good it is too, so I've been told) but i'm sure she'll be delighted to give a rendition of her musical masterpiece, 'Like a virgin'.

miaow!

Despite his pleadings to the contrary, Fat German is indeed Uwe von Schweinshaxen auf München, weighing in at 138kg. A connisseur of cheeses, he learned of the MC sites via his English colleagues (the Cheddar Gorges). It is from them that he has learned both MC and, indeed, the English language. His early posts at York show the great influence of the regulars on his speech:

Fat German: Vneek! Die Trelliswürmhol has put me in der Spoon! Danke Schön, you Schweinhund PaulWay! Dollis Hill! Jibbel!

After nearly choking to death on a liverwurst in 2000, von Schweinshaxen re-dedicated his life to MC, winning the Deutschland Open (CF84+FO) in both singles and doubles competition -- and narrowly losing the all-in match to Jörg Grönback (2nd cousin of Otto). With the Lock Cup resurrected, look for Fat German to make a good run to the top of the ladder.

You would be forgiven for thinking an earthquake has struck when matt enters the room. A bluff, hearty sort of fellow, his thundering bellylaugh is known as a window-rattler. His easygoing, blokish manner makes him a crowd-pleaser down the pub, as does his seemingly endless repertoire of fart jokes, his gutteral and convivial "Corrrr!"for any lady who passes by, and his willingness, once plied with a few pints, to make the Tahitian girl tattooed on his bicep dance. No one has ever met his wife, but he can hold forth for hilarious hours on the subject of her defects in matters of appearance, culinary skill and intimate relations. In MC play, he favors Ruttsborough and any word game that with scope for sly references to private parts or eliminatory functions.

Néa (short for Grönlinnéa, or "green line") is a 60-year-old Swedish librarian who has lived all her life in the village of Jokkmokk, where she runs the local one-room library. In between reading the books and looking disapprovingly over her half-moon glasses at the occasional visitor, she spends much of her time on postal games of Stora Mossen and Mornington Crescent, and is the president of the Swedish Stora Mossen Society. In recent years she has participated occasionally in the online MC world, although, as she says, it is "not quite the same thing". Few, however, can get the better of her flair with line overruns and tactical blocks on the Earls Court junction. It is rumoured that she was a close friend of Mrs. Trellis "in the old days", but she refuses to be drawn on the subject. She lives with five cats and a large collection of immaculately cared-for cacti.

After a two-year trial ending in 1973, Raak was sentenced to a stay at Her Majesty's Pleasure for reasons known only to a very few people, which may, or may not, include Raak himself. Raak quickly made friends with the prison's librarian and has since immersed himself in the institutions weighty tomes. Thus it is that Raak has become a world expert on every known human tribe and civilisation - and a few more besides. Within the prison, Raak operates the tea and coffee cartel and makes extra money on the side by setting crosswords that can only be solved by ultrapolyglots.

Darren's recent decision to turn his remarkable talents to the world of Mornington Crescent has been universally welcomed by those in the worlds he leaves behind. Whether Char fishing in Greenland, Poker dealing in the Australian outback, or communicating with spacemen in spangly silver suits in Nevada, Darren has invariably found himself - after a surprisingly short time - without peer. Few can keep pace with his accomplishments, and still fewer even attempt it.

Dujon's arrival here is a welcome one, as he has been showing his prowess at PantsMC for some time now. Although born in the home country of MC, he was offered in exchange in the 1950s by ITV to allow Rolf Harris to come to Britain - an event that many regret. In order to hide his pom persona, he masquerades online as an West Indian ex-Test-wicket-keeper (which is why he never plays when it's raining).

In spring a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love, and so it is that the Morniverse has recently been blessed with a veritable epidemic of nuptials. Latest to tie the knot is the estimable blamelewis, whose wedding has been the occasion of much feasting and merriment for Crescenters far and wide. Naturally, a few nagging doubts remain concerning the mysterious disappearances of his previous eight wives, but only the most churlish party-pooper would worry about such matters at a time like this. Pass the champagne, blame!