What you will find below will inspire and disgust you in frighteningly equal measure. All we ask is that you approach these chronicles with an open mind and a trusting heart. Every story, every fable, every tale is a testament to our mission. That mission, my friends, is a mission of dignity. We hope to spread civilisation to corners of Australia that have never witnesses such delictable delights as the one we call, 'Howarth'. Come with us as we travel across this vast continent and spread our undeniable message, our message of love, our message of peace, our message of minky.

First off, we need to meet our valiant missionaries. What you read below has been extracted from faded scriptures as old as time itself. The four 'wise men', as many know them, have been walking the globe for many many years and truth has arguably melded with legend. All we know for sure are that they are bloody sexy.

Introduction over.

Let the biographies begin;

Christopher Light

Christopher Light was born Ronseal Aloysius Digweed at some point in the 80's. This was truly the decade that fashion forgot, evidenced by the fact that Ronseal's parents used to dress him up in a green shell suit with zips all over the place. This would continue until his 21st birthday when he broke the shackles of his strict parents and flew freely of his own accord. This is not the time, nor the place, to divulge the adulthood of the ex-Ronseal Aloysius Digweed, Chris Light.

Ronseal was the by-product of a drunken fumble in the back of a veterinary practice. His mother, Beatrice Chamberlock, had taken her sick iguana, Meryl, to the vets. The vet was a man by the name of Terrapin Jones. After an entire morning of smoking athlete's foot powder, Terrapin launched himself on the unsuspecting Miss Chamberlock. This is how Ronseal was conceived, on an operating table that was just big enough to fit a medium sized domestic cat on it's surface. They were forced to marry soon afterwards, but it was quite a nice thing to do actually, seeing as they both enjoyed getting wasted on Scholl foot products, either by smoking them or melting them down into a semi-viscous liquid and injecting them.

Ronseal was born in Gimli Green Psychiatric Hospital just after "Neighbours" had finished. He weighed a paltry 2lbs 3oz, but he soon beefed up on a diet of soft cheese and Anchor Spreadable.

A very apt pupil at school, was Ronseal, despite being the butt of many jokes. He was bullied severely for the entirety of his school life, but this was mainly due to the green shell suit debacle. He graduated from school with an unprecedented "Not Bad, Ronseal" on his school report. He didn't have any qualifications to speak of. He was rather good at fitting his entire body into washing machines.

He continued his studies at Metric College in London. He specialised in "Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em", he was the only student on campus who could recite the entire run of episodes from start to finish. He could often be found sitting alone in the refectory, speaking in tongues with the occasional "Oooh, Betty!" thrown in for good measure. This ensured that he kept up appearances as a "weird loner who will end up climbing the bell tower and taking pot shots at traffic with a 12-gauge shotgun" (quote needs citing, unsourced).

As always, graduation came around. The education system was very kind to young Ronseal, awarding him a first class honours degree in sex offending. Ronseal was no different to the thousands of graduates entering the world of work. The question on everyone's lips was this: "How on Earth will Ronseal Digweed find stable work as a sex offender?". Well let me tell you, right here and right now, that he's doing better than anyone ever expected. This is only since he changed his name to Christopher Martin Light.

Coincidence? You decide.

Here he is:

Thomas Whitmore

Thomas "Can't Remember His Middle Name" Whitmore was born Aloysius T. Mangewater in a one bedroomed garden flat in Beckberry-On-The-Rye, South Dumbledore. His first mother was a pack of basset hounds with numbers where their names should have been. Needless to say, the more maternal basset hounds were even numbers, the odd numbered canines didn't want much to do with him. He changed his name when the dogs ran off after a cat and he was found by a group of bailiffs repossessing the one bedroomed garden flat. At this point they changed his name to Thomas, as they were all avid fans of the creepy faced tank engine.

Until the age of 16, Thomas was dressed like a blue locomotive. He was forced to wear a latex Thomas The Tank Engine mask but soon found that it helped him to make friends rather than alienate all around him. He still has the mask in a glass cabinet in his drawing room. It's sandwiched between his Lego butterfly knife collection and his Polly Pocket cupboard.

Thomas was a model student, like a shop mannequin. He just sat there, never speaking or moving, for an entire 7 years. His results? All vowels, but none of them A's. University was a far more enjoyable time. He graduated with a first class honours degree in "Life Drawing Modelling". Strangely enough, he has only just begun to move and talk. His friends gave him a dictionary for his birthday and so far he's up to the letter "H". He can spell part of his name.

These are some of his favourite activities:

Stripping peas from their pods
Eating uncooked rice
Cutting his thighs open with a stanley knife and standing on his head to stop the blood coming out
Paying through the nose for a prostitute, but only so they can read him bedtime stories
Taxiderming old people
Playing in the road

In addition, Thomas is the current British champion at storing drawing pins in his mouth. At any one time he has 47 of the sharp customers in his gob.

This is him:

Martin Charles Howarth

Martin Charles Howarth (76 years old and still rising) was born M.C.H. in North Wellington, New Hockney State. His parents didn't flesh out his initials until his 18th birthday came around. The reason for this is so that he couldn't attempt to procure alcohol or cigarettes or children until he was old enough to know better. You'd better believe me when I say that all he spends his money on is the above. He also invests heavily in grinning and failing Mensa tests.

In school, M.C.H. was the most popular girl. All the boys wanted to sleep with him and all the girls wanted to put make-up on his face. To this day he is still very pretty. He did OK in his exams. Just OK, nothing special. Consonant city, population: Martin. He did display a penchant for sneaking into the changing rooms while the boys were in there, but they don't give out grades for this practice.

University was a black hole for Martin. 3 years spent walking from house to house, trying to sell blue movies to teenagers and Police Officers. He also collected a plethora of restraining orders and parking tickets. The tickets remain unpaid and the restraining orders are still in effect, no changes here.

Over the next few months, Martin Charles Howarth has vowed to sleep with as many oxygen tanks as he can. He has found that his penis fits snugly in almost all denomination of oxygen mask. He is also going to build on his past-times, which include:

Dancing with his hands behind his back
Jumping over lamp posts
Throwing dirty magazines at elderly folk
Sticking pages of The Sport together with Pritt Stick and demanding a refund from WH Smith's
Swapping the Pick n' Mix round
Racing snails

Here he is:

Simon Bartlett

Simon Bart-Lett was born via caesarean section on 29th February 1984. This was meticulously planned by his parents so that they only had to fork out for birthday presents once every four years. As a result, Simon is 5 years old. He'll be 6 in 2012.

When Simon was in school, he got a hold of the class register and removed the hyphen from his surname. From this day on he would be known as Bartlett, much to the dismay of his family. It really annoys them when they see the incorrect spelling on letters addressed to Simon.

In 2005, Simon's life was literally threatened when he slipped over in the shower whilst using a particularly strong menthol shower gel. He was left paralysed for hours with the minty liquid covering his skin. When they found him, he had turned the colour of lime cordial. The green pigment eventually washed off, but it left Simon with an alarming resistance to cold. He walked across the great snowy plains of Antarctica in nothing more than a stained vest and a pair of kahki hot-pants.

Simon exclusively eats circular foods, shunning anything that isn't served in the round. His favourite meal is as follows:

Starter - Spaghetti Hoops
Main Course - Rolo goulash
Dessert - Doughnut covered in polos

Currently, Simon is in the process of seeing how long he can go without blinking. It's amazing how many people throw sand at him once they're told about his challenge.

This be him: