One, one two one, one Matty G two one,
sang the Techtonics around a blackened cauldron one stormy night in 2016. The 13 sprocket-clad men danced widdershins round the bubbling pot – the wind howled, the rain poured, and from far in the distance, an eerie floating rendition of Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight, could be heard, totally out of tune but just recognisable.
At this point, one of the 13 men remembered that he was probably supposed to tell the others something, but wasn’t sure what it was. And, thus Matty G kept his identity secret for a further 5 minutes, before everyone else realised that something wasn’t right and someone pointed out that dressing like Harry Potter on a budget wasn’t standard protocol yet.
Having headed to the nearest local for a pint, the sodden gang held a standard medium-length meeting (four hours) to decide whether or not Matty’s dress-sense should be adopted, which after 5 rounds of single-transferrable vote, was inconclusive. Matty G lived happily ever after.