Inside The Gang Of Four

[Rhumsaa]

Did he break your heart?

Haha no just a liability

[Phildo]

I'd forgotten how well written it was!

[Ritchie]

With a carnival air the Gang members and the Trolls began to congregate at the far end of the room. I was surprised at the levity in the congregation – laughing and joking and mucking about amongst themselves. His ceremonial duties over, Phildo now mingled easily with everybody else. Roxanne now reassumed centre stage. She signalled to Monkey_Magic to go and look after Rhumsaa who was lying in the foetal position where he had fallen when the sword’s descent marked the climax of DRAM’s ordeal. I got the impression that Rhumsaa’s travails may just be beginning. He was sobbing uncontrollably – at the relief at DRAM’s survival and with horror at facing a future now that his deepest secret was public knowledge.

Roxanne then took me by the hand and led me to a young bookish lady and an unkempt, dishevelled gent whose long hair and beard were matted and contained the remnants of one of Stavros’ kebabs. As we walked over the girl turned to me and gave me the most beautiful smile. It was the sort of smile that lights up a room and banishes all evil and nastiness for a fleeting second. I was incredulous that someone so beautiful could, be party to such dark intrigue and sadistic torture.

 

“Padme, Wilddog, this is Ritchie who is joining our crusade, will you look after him.”

 

---

 

From behind a concealed door, a liveried footman appeared. “Ladies, Gentleman and Trolls, would you please walk this way.”

 

The room we entered was could not have differed more dramatically from the psychedelic freek-out of the Phildo’s dominion. The oak panel walls, suits of armour, and heraldic imagery recalled the dinning
room of an Oxbridge University or an ancient public school.

 

Rows of solid mahogany benches were laid out opulently for a lavish feast. Each place setting had a discreet name badge upon it, and as the divine Padme and the deranged Wilddog lead the search for our own places I entertained myself by reading the placenames.

 

I must admit I hadn’t realised that the Gang of Four domination of the forums was so complete. As surprised as I was by Padme being party to the shenanigans, I found other names that were equally incredible – Manx Trev, Sugar Bee, Sunny Days, Cream Horn.

 

When Padme found our place I was delighted to see that she was to sit on my right, with Wilddog sitting opposite. The position to my left remained vacant. Its place holder reserving it for “Mercutio”.

 

---

 

I noticed Rhumsaa, being escorted by Monkey_Magic to his allocated space. He was more composed now but there was a hollow detached look in his eyes.

 

He sat at his assigned position, for a few moments, staring blankly at the place setting before him. Then suddenly, as if recalling an imperative mission, he sprang to life, seizing hold of the neighbouring name tag, he glanced at it, and jumped up.

 

Distractedly, but with a vital internal purpose, we went from unoccupied seat to unoccupied seat glancing at the name of its intended occupant. He criss-crossed the dining hall until he found the name he sought. Then exchanging the place-name from his neighbour’s seat with the one he had uncovered and he resumed his seat, looking more at ease with himself.

[Ritchie]

I'd forgotten how well written it was!

 

Don't worry, it gets worse.

[Ritchie]

I’d been in the company of this motley band of plotters long enough to know that every step in their heinous ritual began with a histrionic flourish, so I was not startled when a startling display of pyrotechnics erupted from the stage at the front of the hall.

With the smell of sulphur and cordite stinging our nostrils, all eyes were fixed ahead as the smoke cleared and a figure began to emerge.

“That’s Mercutio, head of our Youth Academy” the excitable Wilddog barked.

Nonplussed at the idea of a secret organisation hiding underground, having a Youth Academy like Premiership football club, I was even more intrigued by the gentleman, who was now standing centre- stage. He wore a scholar’s cloak, but instead of a mortarboard his had was adorned with a long pointed hat, from beneath which a disorderly crop of ginger hair fell. His clothing was a luscious deep blue and was decorated with jewelled motifs, depicting the objects of the firmament.

I could not estimate his age it could have been anywhere between thirty and eighty, but whatever it was he had retained a mischievous youthful twinkle in his eyes (which he emphasised by having pale blue tinted lens in his half-moon spectacles), that gave him the air of the eternal intelligent schoolboy.

“Thank you for your attention, dinner will not be too long, but while we are awaiting those members who have been detained by earlier events, I am pleased that some of my very finest Academy students will provide some entertainment.
“First, it is my very great honour to introduce our youngest Academician, Discarded Angel who is going to read us one of his poems.”

With the briefest of hand flourishes Mercutio disappeared, and from stage left an unprepossessing lad slowly took his position at the forefront.

“Black, he’s very. Black” growled Wilddog, this was an unnecessary statement of the obvious because the boy wore no other shade and his long curly tresses had been died a shiny ebony. His fingernails had been painted to match and he had applied black eye shadow all over his lids, making him look like a melancholy panda. I felt that if he could tattoo his face and arms the darkest conceivable shade, he would.

When he began to recite I was surprised by his self possessed confidence.

“It is all Black

Black

Black
Everything is horrible

and black

 

I am a chicken waiting for the egg to crack

Like one half of a double yolk

I’m a frog waiting to croak

It is all Black

Black

Black
Everything is painful

and black

 

I am a duck that’s forgotten how to quack

Like a swan floating upstream

I’m a forgotten kettle letting off steam.

It is all Black

Black

BLACK

BLACK!!!!!!!!”

And with that he undemonstratively walked off stage. For what felt like an eternity there was silence, punctuated only by the gentle sound of that sensitive soul Padme discreetly sobbing. I wanted to put a protective arm around her and protect her from this despicable crew. I feared for Discarded Angel and Padme now that they had been sucked into this den of vipers.

Mercutio appeared again and encouraged the audience into a subdued round of applause for the young poet.

“And now it is my great pleasure to introduce Tweedle and the Dums…”

[Ritchie]

(Please Note: The next few sections don't really advance the plot. I think I must have been taking requests at this point.)

---

From either side of the stage two implausibly tall boys bounded. They could have been brothers except the taller one was ginger and his smaller colleague dark-haired. Both were wearing sky blue and crimson quartered school caps, shirts with collars that on a windy day could be used for hanggliding enormous turquoise bow ties – the likes of which are only seen on UK Gold re-runs of The Comedians.

 

The build of both lads was implausible, puny and skinny, and this characteristic was emphasised by the over-sized pink three-quarter length shorts. These garments were far too big for the boys and their waist bands finished just underneath the lad’s armpits. The shorts were held up by elasticised rainbow stripped braces.

 

An electronic rhythm started up, through an ear-splittingly loud but tinny P.A. and the youngsters began cavorting around the stage in an exaggerated approximation of Run DMC. Each held a radio mike and the ginger lad began to rap…

 

“Hello every1 my name is Sir Dick

Rappin’ for u on this here mike

Of straight gurls I have my pick

But I wanna lesbian to ride my bike.”

 

(Then his co-conspirator took the mic)

 

“My name is Oogie

And if U R a dead chick

Hop on love; let’s Boogie

Oh no I’m gonna be sick”

 

(Then both lads together)

 

It’s Oogie and Dick

Showin’ u the way Oogie and Dick

We’ll rap all day

Oogie and Dick

Like it or not

Oogie and Dick

The only future u got

Is Oogie and Dick

 

(Sir Dick on his own again)

 

So give me some Bushmills And give me some cheese

And I’ll provide the thrills

Cos I’ll ave everything I need

 

(then just Oogie Boogie)

 

All joking aside, but seriously tho

And I realise it is not right

But can u tell me if you know

Where I can hire a corpse for the night.

 

(and then both lads for the courus)

 

“It’s Oogie and Dick

Showin’ u the way Oogie and Dick

We’ll rap all day

Oogie and Dick

Like it or not

Oogie and Dick

The only future u got

Is Oogie and Dick”

 

After seeing this performance, if this pair are the future of the Gang of Four, its plans for domination of the forums are seriously flawed.

[Ritchie]

The boys finished their choon with a spectacular display of acrobatic dancing, which culminated with a pair of synchronised splits. A manoeuvre, which proved to be too athletic for Master Boogie’s delicate constitution. The unfortunate lad let out an enormous fart.

 

Mortified by this indiscretion Oogie ran from the stage clutching the seat of his pants, from which the acrid fart follow-through dripped.

 

Sir Dick stood alone on the stage ineffectually wafting a hand in front of his nostrils.

 

---

 

When the stench had cleared, Sir Dick spoke, “Mwhahahaha!!! And now I’d like to play some songs with my band, Suspicious Parcel. Buy the CD!!! Ask Declan for one!!! Heheheheheheheh!!!!

 

“Please welcome on stage our drummer – Mystical Monkey….”

 

Half-hearted applause greeted the arrival, of a youngster dressed like a refugee from a Roy Wood revival night. On catching sight of him Wilddog exclaimed “Sparkle”. This involuntary outburst, was perfectly understand, because everything about Mystical Monkey sparkled. From his glittery eye make-up to his sequined fingerless gloves, he wore a long scarlet A-line frock, bejewelled with diamante shiny flecks of many hues, (an outfit, which so outshone Roxanne’s attire that he turned green with envy and began to stamp a stilettoed heel against the parquet flooring); the drummer’s attire was a pure glamorous glittering twinkle.

 

Sitting behind a golden drumkit, Mystical Monkey produced a pair of emerald studded drumsticks and began to lay down a steady beat.

 

“And on bass guitar – Dr. Watson…

 

A confident young girl strode on stage, she was incongruously dressed, wearing a tweed deerstalker hat, an elegant dressing gown and blowing bubbles through a large meerschaum pipe.

 

She took her position and began to lay down a funky bass line.

The rhythm section in place Sir Dick strapped on a battered guitar, with remnants of broken strings dangling from the neck and introduced “our lead guitarist – Vexred”.

 

A cheerful chap bounded on stage like a puppy dog, he was smiling and waving to the crowd and began laughing like a idiot, as he took up his instrument and the band played a surf rock instrumental.

 

---

 

Sir Dick then lead Suspicious Parcel through a series of Post-Emo-Hardcore-Punk tunes. The songs were played at a bewildering pace, and seemed to be exclusively about lesbians, prostitutes and cheese.

 

The set was good natured and entertaining. Most noticeable of all was their visual presence they cut,

Mystical Monkey’s attire was reflecting every photon of light in the room, at haphazard angles; casting bizarre, patches of extreme illumination (and creating corresponding areas of shade) on his colleagues.

 

Sir Dick, now playing guitar, was forced to use a mic stand, which had been set just a little to short for him. He compensated for this inconvenience by placing his front foot next to the stand and the other about a yard further back. This arrangement coupled with his extreme skinniness, mad him look like a lower-case letter “h”.

 

In the grand tradition of static bass-players Dr. Watson regarded the antics of her colleagues with an analytically studied aloofness. Whilst the congenitally happy Vexred, was laughing and joking and grinning inanely to himself throughout.

[Ritchie]

Sir Dick then lead Suspicious Parcel through a series of Post-Emo-Hardcore-Punk tunes. The songs were played at a bewildering pace, and seemed to be exclusively about lesbians, prostitutes and cheese.

 

The set was good natured and entertaining. Most noticeable of all was their visual presence they cut,

Mystical Monkey’s attire was reflecting every photon of light in the room, at haphazard angles; casting bizarre, patches of extreme illumination (and creating corresponding areas of shade) on his colleagues.

 

Sir Dick, now playing guitar, was forced to use a mic stand, which had been set just a little to short for him. He compensated for this inconvenience by placing his front foot next to the stand and the other about a yard further back. This arrangement coupled with his extreme skinniness, mad him look like a lower-case letter “h”.

 

In the grand tradition of static bass-players Dr. Watson regarded the antics of her colleagues with an analytically studied aloofness. Whilst the congenitally happy Vexred, was laughing and joking and grinning inanely to himself throughout.

 

---

Such was the intensity and speed of Suspicious Parcel’s performance, that Sir Dick had to take a break to temporarily rest his auburn head. During the interval we were “entertained” by Sulbylad who after a bout of freestyle gurning and performance vomiting.

 

As unappetising as Sulbylad’s performance was, it was as nothing when compared to what occurred when an unconventionally endowed interloper (later identified as Gay2Cocks) stormed the stage and began to perform a procedure, which Wilddog later identified as a “Dirty Sanchez”.

 

After they had wrestled Gay2Cocks from the stage Suspicious Parcel resumed their performance.

The second act was more of the same fast Punk-Pop tunes like “What is Cunnilingus?”, “All I Want For Christmas Is A Lesbian Hooker and Some Camembert” and “Fisting Like Fury”.

 

The highlight for me was the final tune for which the carefree Vexred skipped to the mic and began singing…

 

“Die, Die, Die,

You’re all gonna die, I’m gonna kill you and eat your liver

 

Fry, Fry, Fry,

I’m gonna cook your brains

In Olive Oil

With Diced Lung

Hate, Hate, Hate

I’ll roast your mothers

And I’ll eat your young

Turn down the heat…

 

YOU’RE DONE.”

 

With his vocal duties performed Vexred performed a gleeful cartwheel, and exited the stage with his colleagues.

[Ritchie]

 

I'd forgotten how well written it was!

 

Don't worry, it gets worse.

 

Told you!

[Ritchie]

Mercutio appeared centre-stage. His miraculous arrivals and departures, which had at first seemed thrillingly magical, were becoming mundane, even tedious. On this occasion he held a large scroll held together by a black ribbon.

 

Relishing his role as the Youth Academies Headmaster, he began to speak…

 

“I’m sure you will join me in a well deserved round of applause for our young people who have entertained us so splendidly this evening.” He said leading the audience through a half-hearted and desultory round of applause.

 

“Many of our students have made remarkable progress in the time since my last report. Sir Dick and Oogie Boogie are now established forum members and it will not be long before they are presented to the Trolls for to undertake the initiation ceremony.

 

“Others have been taking their first steps on Manx Net whilst continuing to hone the skills required of all good sheepies and trollies on our nursery forums www.manxbands.co.uk. With great progress being made in the key core curriculum areas of deviation from topic; random insults; bullying; impersonation; the misuse of others passwords; pedantry; and gratuitous sexual innuendos. The last subject being an area in which, I know our esteemed Roxanne has taken a keen interest in the student’s progress.

 

“The goal however, of all our Academicians is to graduate and receive induction into our hallowed Gang. This is why we are all so proud that one of our students has today survived the initiation process and is here, to join his good friend Rhumsaa in being our second student to complete his training and graduate into full Gang of Four membership.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please give our newest full member a warm welcome, DRAM please step forward and receive your diploma.”

 

From the back of the room, to the sound of rapturous applause, strode DRAM. He had been hosed down, and was wearing a black graduation gown, with matching mortarboard. There was an unmistakable look of pride on his face.

 

I was greatly moved, by his appearance – the youngster who had seemed so frail and frightened earlier, now that he had attained his, albeit dubious, goal of full membership of the Gang of Four was so pleased and at ease with himself.

 

Mercutio, looking like a mother duck watching her fledgling first enter the water, enthusiastically pumped the graduate’s hand and delivered the diploma reverently.

Dram turned, ready to take his seat amongst the audience. Rhumsaa beckoned his erstwhile friend, urging him to sit at the place that the lovelorn Northerner had reserved for him. This invitation was callously spurned as DRAM made a beeline for a spare seat next to Shazz1664, who greeted him with a tender kiss.

 

Before returning my attention to the stage, I glanced across at the pitiful Rhumsaa who was repeatedly banging his head against the bench, whilst Monkey_Magic valiantly attempted to cheer him up by pretending to be an increasing incredible cast of unbelievable characters.

 

---

[Ritchie]

Once the tumult of applause had died down Mercutio spoke again. “And now our head boy, Sir Dick will lead his fellow students in a rendition of the Gang of Four’s anthem.”

 

Between twenty and thirty youngsters, dressed in white robes with hems of various primary colours (each with there user name embroidered over their breast) danced on stage and began swaying impatiently, until Sir Dick, the spotlight illuminating his bright orange hair, spread his arms out like a crucifix and sang the opening line.

 

“We’re gonna hit you like a case of Ans-thrax”

 

With this his class mates began to cavort and prance about around the stage in prolonged ecstasy. Many of the adult members of the Gang of Four joined in. Predictably, Declan got so carried away that he careered into a suit of medieval armour, sending it clanging to the floor. For the next line all the students took up the singing duties in a harmonious cacophony.

 

“Woke up this morning, Steven’s still on, What he’s been saying he’ll say it again,

His head’s all empty not full with a brain

The thought’s he’s thinking

Like piss down a drain”

 

The boys and girls were creating a remarkable sound he fervour and pleasure they demonstrated, never overflowing and infringing on the their leader, Sir Dick’s, territory.

 

With one unfortunate exception, a plain girl whose name tag revealed her to be Ankhassa seemed determined to push herself to the centre of attention, she kept positioning bussumless frame next to the head boy and performing a grotesque parody of an errotic dance, all the time yelling banshee, “Look at me! Look at me! I’m ace!!! Look at me!!!”.

 

Eventually, after she wrestled the mic from Sir Dick and began piercingly bellowing “I Will Survive”, her antics became too much for the normally mild mannered Mercutio and he silently ordered the formidably built Harmony Dischord and Ric Storm to remove her.

 

The anthem continued…

 

“Vader’s like a beetle on his back

Without his leg there, he cannot get up We will hit him like a case of Ans-thrax

Carter-itus is something I don’t wanna catch

 

Nessa wants to lose control of her mind

Nothing in there but sunshades for the blind

Only yesterday she said to herself

The sheepies and trollies aren’t good for my health.”

 

Looking at these charming and energetic young people as they danced from the stage, I knew I must destroy the Gang of Four before any them befell the same fate as poor DRAM.

[Ritchie]

Once the tumultuous applause died down, the room became filled with the hubbub of general conversation. An army of Trolls was clearing the debris from the stage, and carrying in tables and chairs, and laying place settings, presumably for the top table dignitaries.

 

I was keen to learn more about the Gang’s structure and was determined to question my companions, Padme and Wilddog on the matter. This proved more difficult than I expected, because although both were more than forthcoming, I was distracted by the deliriously captivating presence of Padme. However, being a professional investigative reporter, and in over my head, I had to find out what would become of the youngsters I’d just seen.

 

“So the Academy students are going to eventually become members of the Gang of Four, proper?”

 

“Well hopefully most of them will,” I turned to see that unnoticed Mercutio had assumed his seat. “We provide them with lessons on the basic skills needed for membership and they then practice these talents amongst themselves on our training forum Manx Bands, which is run by myself and Matron Smiler. Once they have shown enough promise there we allow them to begin posting on the forums proper.

 

“And once we feel they are ready to abide by the forums rules, we’ll present them to the Trolls for the initiation ceremony. But of course many drop out or are rejected long before that. Amber, for example, couldn’t match up to the intellectual demands made of a Gang of Four member, so we got rid of her.”

 

“But if they want to join your band full time they need to endure the same indignities as DRAM did?” I asked.

 

“Well each ceremony is different, but basically the same. They all have to face the Sword.”

 

“You mean they have to risk their lives to join?”

 

“No they only believe that they risk death. The sword is rigged to stop just short.”

 

“So the humiliation and terror is a ruse to determine whether they are truly loyal. But if everybody who undergoes it survives then the students must realise that they aren’t facing any real danger.”

 

“Well we’ve made some expulsions look like graduations gone wrong. All the students see is the candidate leaving the Academy for the faux-ceremony and never appearing on the forums again.”

 

The headmaster continued, “And then, there’s the accident. You remember Wisps? It was a terrible mess, the sword didn’t stop. We showed the pictures to the students to concentrate their minds”

 

“You mean Wisps stopped posting because he died in a botched initiation ceremony?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes, the breaking mechanism was slightly misaligned, but Declan swore he’d checked it properly.”

[Ritchie]

“So everybody here, has been through the initiation ceremony?” I asked.

 

“No that’s just for the youngsters. Most of us were in at the beginning and became members automatically. And for newcomers there are basically three ways to join.” Mercutio began to explain before Wilddog interrupted him.

 

“Look there’s no point starting in the middle, begin with them.” He growled, pointing a filthy unmanicured finger in the direction of the stage, where the army of Trolls had finished and the dignitaries were assuming their seats.

 

Now dominating the stage was a long ornate bench, laid out like our own for a lavish dinner. Behind the bench (resembling a wedding party) were a row of chairs most of which were occupied.

 

In prime position was a golden throne (reserved for “the Leader” Mercutio informed me), which throughout the meal remained unoccupied. Either side of this were four silver thrones, three of which held Roxanne, Monkey_Magic and Stavros, the fourth was empty, but was embossed with the legend THI.

 

To the left of the throne, resplendent in psychedelic armchairs-come-thrones were the Ruler of The Trolls and his queen (“Lucy” I was informed.) And to the right sat a man and a woman, both of whom wore ceremonial chains of office from obscure organisations.

[Ritchie]

Between them – Padme, Mercutio, and Wilddog began to reveal the beginnings of the Gang of Four.

 

When the forums had first begun, they were a cosy place, with nice, friendly, and inconsequential chitchat dominating. When a serious debate broke out informal coalitions would form for the life of the thread and then collapse. It was through this loose arrangement that Manx net users were able to repulse the repeated attacks from the rogue forum Beemanx.

 

When the wars with Beemanx were finally over, many Beemanxers (including Monkey_Magic, Declan, and Roxanne) defected to Manx Net. Unfortunately they brought with them a megalomaniacal buffoon called Richie, who had an evil scheme to destroy the English Language by reforming it beyond the point of readability.

 

To make matters worse the forums were soon blighted by the arrival of two new users. One was an itinerant shape-shifting taxi-driver who went under a variety of guises. The other was a malevolent son of the dark named Vader (although he has been known to occasion attempt to alter assume human form as Sam and Anekin).

 

This trio of malcontents launched into the forums with a vengeance, launching viscous unprovoked attacks on other forum users, and disrupting the friendly banter of the forums with their disjointed, and mischievous vitriol.

 

A consensus was formed that something needed to be done about them, but the loose, ad hoc coalitions of the past would not succeed. So the glorious Leader (a mysterious figure whose name is never mentioned), formulated the idea of formalizing the forces opposed to this disruptive evil triumvirate of dark whisperers, into a concerted professional organisation.

 

When Vader rashly referred to a “Gang of Four” ranged against him, (naming in the process Monkey_Magic, Roxanne, THI, and Stavros as the members, and ensuring their position on the silver thrones), the organisation had a name, and a public persona which protected the leader from closer study.

[Ritchie]

Gradually, the Gang of Four took shape around the Leader and the quartet originally named by Vader (other prominent members at the beginning including Declan, Mercutio, BSE, TPFKANOYN and of course Vader’s personal nemesis Ans). THI did not remain long within the organisation preferring to confine his activities to his own personal Den of Iniquity, although as an original member of the silver quartet, his seat at the top table of the banqueting hall remained symbolically vacant.

 

THI did perform one great service for the cult before his departure – he brokered alliance between the organisation and Phildo and Lucy, which brought the Trolls unique blend of abuse and hatred into play in the Gang’s cause.

 

During these early skirmishes, the alliance claimed two notable scalps. Firstly, the scatological Manxman was banished and silver surfer Cushy retired from the fray when she found that her goose was cooked.

 

In the years since its formation, the Gang has continued to grow, and due to its size, many of the principal players have assumed specific responsibilities from what I have piece together from the information gleaned from Padme and the others these include :-

 

Monkey Magic : Impersonation and Parody

Ans : Discipline and Punctuation

Stavros : Research and Catering

Mercutio : Training and Recruitment

Declan : Pedantry and Richie Baiting

BSE : Nessa Worrying

 

Whilst Roxanne assumed the role of being the public face of the sect, taking most of the paranoid flack from the Gang’s foes.