It was a stormy night, back in the year of 1997, as I recall it. I was sitting on a wooden crate in the safety of the elevator service room on the top of a high rise block of flats of which had become my home. As the wind hammered at the steel door, which lead to the flat roof, where my antenna was taking a good kicking by the elements, I was listening to the air wave of which had fell so very silent of late. Then just as I was about to turn in for the night, a faint signal came through, in the direction of north Manchester and over the next few hours I was able to fine tune and started to realize it was a pre recorded message on some type of loop. The next night as I stared over the parapet wall and looked into the distance, it seemed that I was on the edge of forever, but still it was a clear and starry night, and the moon sat big and proud, high in the sky. Slowly with some more, fine tweaking of the radio I was able to decipher the message…. GUITARIST IN NEED OF HELP. NEEDS TO FIND MORE RECRUTES . TO JOIN AND CREATE A SMALL ARMY TO GO IN SEARCH OF THE UNDER WORLD . GUITARIST IN NEED………………and so on………….. This was I! He was looking for me! I liked what I heard. Still, with all my stealth I had learnt whilst being a very successful cat burglar, it was going to be very difficult get there, after all, he was far in the north in the land of Moston, and I was tired of being alone and stuck living this half life in this zombie ridden land of Wythenshawe. I had so much to do in the preparation and it was going to be no walk in the park, to work my way through the maze of the city centre. I had made it, and Dave (A.K.A. The mad axe man of Moston) and I settled down and began to write the plans for the battles that lay ahead. In these dark days it seemed that the horizon had just moved and cast in stone into the cliff face was a giant, yes, a true giant. Who would of guest it in this day and age? This was defiantly a new day. There were stories written in old scripts of real life giants and here was Dean, who speaks whales (this is not to be mistaken for Welch, but is the actual language of whales) as his main tongue. Standing about sixteen feet tall, holding a massive club called a bass, we had our hammer man. Many a good man (and woman) had come and gone, but by far the best singer to join us in our quest was Gina, a princess from a far off place who was in hiding from her kingdom. We managed to stumble across her as we helped her up from the floor when she had fallen from the pole in some seedy gaff, whilst using the image of a stripper as cover. (She was doing a pretty convincing job, apart from her gammy foot and her woodworm riddled teeth.) Then in the year of 1999 came the battle of QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM our first and most costly battle to date. It took place at the port of Stock in a small shed. Our first soldier to fall was a warrior who went by the name of Frank Hancock. May the gods look over you and your family. Soon after, our keys to the wind, Andy Burgess decided to leave and to fight the battles alone. We wish him all the best and sometimes we hear of the Bug Juice on the winds. Now the days had turned to black and the pressure had started to build and I prayed the gods, just to give me heaven. Summers had passed us by and the migrating birds had taken to the skies. Then on the bare back of a wild horse came the final piece Andy. He is snake fist champion of the world, unclassified mark 1 drummer boy. We now had our beat to take the enemy down. Many battles have since been, and I’m sure the fight is not yet over. You will never find this elite force giving in as our quest for the under world is not yet at an end.