"One fine day, Mr Whippy was sitting humming in his van when a small blue thought popped into his head. It said, "there is more to existence than flake 99's! People have got to realise that their crumbly bits of old chocolate in a harsh frosty environment just cannot quite compete with the warmth and love of the almighty beat!!" He resolved to pack up his cones and, after distributing the raspberry ripple to a kid nearby, set off on his quest to search for what it is that makes music just so god-damn essential.

He found himself in a bar, a dark and smoke filled bar, next to an old hairy man from the Ginger tribe, who spoke of old Disco legends, and smelt of the boozy groove. "You shall be called Eduardo Cerveza, and join me on my travels" exclaimed Mr Whippy, looking at the beer Eduardo was holding.

So they danced onwards, until they came to a field.

In it, a young curly-haired lad was rapping to his herd of gruyere. They were happily nodding to an unheard beat. "I have never seen a cheese dance like that!" said Whippy. The lad looked up at them, and saw that they were serious. "I am called 'Cheez Bar, and I want to join you."

And so they danced on as far up as the Scottish glens, when all of a sudden a loud whooping sound could be heard, which was coming from a man on the back of a yak. "This is Boo, and I am Sporran!" He shouted. They could detect the aroma of fine melodies on his breath. After explaining their purpose and swapping some yarns, he declared that he was up for anything and off they set.

Coming across a clearing in some dense sounds, they spied a small glasshouse, which was emanating a sweet sticky smoke. They knocked, and were let in by a tall man who asked them to "mind the plants, as they are very sensitive!"
"Tell us, what is your name?" Mr Whippy enquired, speaking softly so as not to disturb the dreamy plants, the likes of which he had never seen before.
"I am Skunk Alan." came the reply. The music with which he grew his plants convinced the travellers that he was to be their fifth member.

The dreamy glasshouse was now full of their musical knowledge, as the plants whispered the legend...."mufflewuffle"