We are but dust and sand blowing in the winds of eternity. It has been over a year since my last report on Third Leg Studios and my, how things have changed. In that time, the three boys from North London have soared through the highest peaks of excellence. Peaking for so long that they have actually forgotten how to trough. And throughout it all the public have been crying out for news, screaming at the top of their lungs, “What is going on over there? What the hell is going on?! We, the people, have a right to know god damn it!”
As the only journalist privileged enough to access Third Leg, the backlash that I, personally, have received has been overwhelming. When I’m not receiving death threats, I’m being hounded by people who demand to know why I’ve abandoned the boys during the most exciting period of their history. The truth may shock you.
I haven’t, in fact, gone anywhere. I’ve been here the whole time, watching the progress of Third Leg Studios in awe. Unable to report on what I was witnessing simply because I’ve been too stunned to move. Transfixed by admiration. Incapacitated by reverence. Paralysed with respect. Even now I struggle to write as I watch them. They truly are marvellous.
If only you could see what I’m seeing. Tel is stroking his blossoming beard proudly, such an impressive array of facial hairs, it is like Spring upon his face. Whelan is sitting, relaxed, calm, confident in his new outfit; a red and black chequered shirt, black jeans and brown boots. An outfit so strong he refuses to change. Such commitment to consistency, an almost incomprehensible lack of variance. He has other clothes, I have personally seen them yet he refuses to wear them. So sure, so confident is he in his current combination. People beg him, his friends plead with him, “Please Whelan, please just for one day wear something different. A jumper, a polo neck, even a different shirt. Just please, I can’t bear to look at you anymore.” But with a calm wave of his hand Whelan silences them, “This is me now, this is what I wear and I shall never change.” And Joel, sweet, sweet Joel. He is weeping now, silently, bravely. Oozing strength of character from his tear ducts. Demonstrating the remarkable courage it takes to wake up every morning knowing that you have no other choice than to be Joel for another day. It can’t be easy.
Since my last report, a year ago, the boys have gone from strength to strength. At that time, with fifty five loyal subscribers behind them and almost as many Twitter followers it seemed like things couldn’t get any better for them. Then they released Halloween Costumes – Easy To Get Wrong…