PREFAB SPROUT ARE BACK!

"Wanna make something of it?"

PREFAB Sprout don't open doors the conventional way. That's the first thing you learn about them. With a violent thud, the locked, oak-panel door hits the floor. The broken hinges go flying. A cloud of plaster disperses to reveal the strapping figure of Paddy McAloon, the leader of the band. This is what's known as their new, "no nance-sense" approach. Their fan club now goes by the name of the "Prefab Sprout Militia" and they have a short way with those who murmur derisory dissent.
   McAloon strutted manfully around the Maker offices as staff froze in front of their word processors in trepidation. "We hear some of you people think there's something funny about Prefab Sprout. Something a little... cissy." With that, he grabbed each of the Stud Brothers by the neck and held them up against the wall, his biceps glistening impressively. "Well, if we want to infuse our pop with a wry, almost mannered self-referentiality, a lightweight, post-modern sensibility that echoes Sondheim and even 10cc, we'll damn well go right on and do it. You got a problem with that, boys?"
   "Cooeeeee!" Oh, dear. The chink in their armour. The daffy girl that does their backing vocals. McAloon tried to ignore her. She was the only member of the group who hadn't spent the last two weeks pumping iron.
   "She's just a girl," hissed McAloon to the others "She'll soon get fed up and go away." But Wendy called again "Cooeee, Padeee. It's time for us to record the ha-ha-harmonieeees," she trilled, breathlessly McAloon turned pink with embarrassment as looks of fear around the Maker offices melted into amusement and outright guffaws.
   He sloped away, at Wendy's behest "Still the same old nance!" jeered a nameless voice behind him.

Lower photo: Wendy, who provides the harmonies indispensible to Prefab Sprout's sound