Titular head and Sousaphonist (Gold Star).
In the spirit of entente cordiale, the captain has emigrated to the southern uplands of Gaul, where, overlooking his vast plantation of Japanese Knotweed the captain and his trusty French bulldog, Breque survey the scene and ponder the wine-making possibilities from the knotweed vendage. Suddenly their reverie was broken by a Pyrenean Le Pen lapin scurrying across the yard. Breque begins to barque, ‘Silence Breque!” Breque continues to barque. “S’asseoir Breque maintenant!” commands the captain. Breque looks quizzically at his master. “Breque sit!” Breque rolls over with his legs in the air - a British Bulldog after all!

Megaphonic vocal refrain and raconteur.
The colonel chivvies and harries his charges along like a mother hen making sure they are all turned out tickety boo - as they say, shoes polished, wigs on straight, no shirt-tails hanging out etc. Not for nothing is the colonel known as “The Dresser.” This has nothing to do with the man’s size, I might add. Thus the colonel melds everything together with his scintillating songs and corny (comical Ed) quips. Colonel Atchoo as he is affectionally known to his friends, has an unnerving sense of direction. Together with his pet insect “Gnatsav,” kept in an old Spooner’s cocoa tin, they ensure that the chaps are never lost or late for an engagement. Thanks are due to the colonel for getting the moulah (read sponsorship - Ed) for the recording from Barraclough’s (Beam End) Bath Chairs.

Trombone au Piston, Aid-de-camp.
On the port flank of the orchestra sits the svelte figure of the F.C.P.R. Patrick’s primary role is to play the Trombone á Pistons but his secondary duty is to see to the needs and welfare of the Colonel. This has to be beyond a labour of love for Patrick. Amongst many of the tasks he has to undertake is the ritual washing of the colonel’s feet, truss adjustment, and checking of the ears for signs of rogue waxings. In general, ensuring the Colonel is in tip-top condition to meet and greet his adoring public. Apart from the odd gurgle as he seeks solace from this selfless dedication with a nip or two from his flask of Heuchars Heavy Haggis Extract, Patrick embarks on these duties with stoic application.

The Marquis of Piccadilly Q.C.W.C (stain) cornet.
The Marquis bounds from gig to gig with unfettered zeal and unbridled enthusiasm, so much so that his personal physician, Doctor d’Eath, comments that his health could be at risk if he continues in such a manner. With this in mind, the doctor has prescribed non-perishable footwear made out of antelope hide. This, according to the health meister, should put a brake on the marquis’s gallivanting.

Clarinet, Alto, Penny whistle (5p inflation) Violin.
Decisive, dogged, determined, dynamic, resolute, purposeful, tenacious are many adjectives one would never use when describing Willy. Might I comment though, when you put any of the above instruments in his hands, this meek and mild (not bitter) individual is transformed into a whirling dervish. William is a leading light in E.N.S.A. (English Name Swapping Association) and his overriding passion is to get the name of his home habitat of Wigan changed back to its original ancient Druidic name of Wiergon.

Baritone and Alto saxophones.
The orchestra welcomes back the return of Count Geoffrey Simkins after an absence of sixteen years. The gifted baritone and alto specialist has been spending this time on a remote island off Barra sculpting face masks out of cuttlefish for the political protest market. During a slack moment, he started making sporrans, woven from spider's webs sourced from the very cave where Robert the Bruce once pondered his fate. Owing to the success of this hirsute item, the Count had to increase his workforce (AKA THE BARRA BOYS) and in 2010 launched his company SPORRANS 'R' US on the London Stock Exchange. Despite his new found wealth, the Count has relinquished his fame and fortune to join, once again, the ranks of the musical unemployed. A most laudable and selfless act.

Banjo, Guitar and Ukulele.
Busily pushing envelopes through letterboxes in an attempt to win support for his new political party - Uke-hip, Grimsargh maintains that the world's problems could be solved if everyone took up that most humble of musical instruments - the Ukulele. Grimsargh reasons that if everybody, in particular the world leaders, took up the uke, war would be off the agenda. Imagine a world resounding to “Putin on the Style”, “Trumpety, Trumpety, Trumpety, Trump, Here Comes the Galloping Failure”, “Kim, Kim Jong Un, He’s a Wrong’un” etc. (Ukulele groups are springing up all over the place, frightening old people, scaring babies and animals. How to reconcile this with the prospect of world peace Grimsargh? - Ed) Hmmmmmmmmnn..........

Grand Jazz Percussion Kit.
Dwarfed by the Grand Jazz Percussion Kit, Anthony clacks, scrubs, plonks and jingles away making sure the band ticks along nicely during their performances. Always inventive of mind, Akasaka has applied for a patent on one of his more bizarre inventions: “The Clackbut.” The invention was designed to propel the G.J.P.K. around the stage to effect a stereo, nay quadraphonic, accomplishment. This stunning piece of kit was fuelled by filling the bass drum with pigeon droppings and powered by attaching five slide trombones to each of the five plonking blocks to act as pistons. When beating the blocks in a ferocious manner, the whole kit is galvanised into movement. Anthony is in hospital at the moment working on a brake system for the “Clackbut.”