The Gentlemen’s Club

A loose collective of musicians, antiquarians, and ne’er-do-wells.

Vocals, doggrel verse

Mister Curse

A man steeped in occult ritual significance, Curse can no longer travel anywhere without foreseeing the future consequences of his actions by divination in everyday objects, such as (but not limited to): tea leaves, clouds, the bowels of animals (apologies to the London Zoo), doilies, carpets, wallpaper, playing cards, and even his own bodily fluids. This may or may not have anything to do with the copious amounts of refined Papaver somniferum the Club regularly spike his morning coffee with for a laugh.

Significant Setbacks to the Medical Profession

Mr. John “The Resurrectionist” Bishop

After an unfortunate accident involving a throng of tediously annoying children and a large refuse collection van, this year has so far proved to be a bumper windfall for Mr Bishop’s grave digging career. As a result, he can now afford to spend more time languishing around the Club, his natural tendency to lose at cards making him both welcome and popular on long winter nights.

Violin, flute and vocals

Katheryne, Queen of the Ghosts

The Club chanteuse and spiritualist medium has taken a back seat in certain occult activities recently. Not (as many are inclined to assume) due to her seances generating more money than she can spend, but instead to avert growing suspicion that she might not be talking to actual, real dead persons. Who she IS talking to remains a matter of speculation, due to her evasion of both the subject matter at hand and taxes in general.

Pianoforte, Synths and Percussion

The Gentleman

The less said, the better, frankly.

Electric and acoustic guitars

William Wight-Barrow

Dug up by accident (on a 12 day binge by the Club, no less), once dusted down, Mr Wight-Barrow has been found to be useful on certain occasions, not least his ability to juggle live arachnids using just his elbows, while simultaneously holding thirty-four raw eggs in his mouth, singing the national anthem backwards and knowing which set of cutlery to use at any given point during a meal. Unfortunately, he refuses to do this before a public audience, but as he plays the guitar too, we’ll let him off. For now.

Electric Guitars, Cello and Backing Vocals

The Late Mr Tibor Sebastian Kettleburner

At this point in his illustrious career, and post death now for some years, the corpse of Mr Kettleburner remains in remarkably good shape, not least because of his daily formaldehyde routine, the Club’s Ritual of Holding (update: still holding) and his sheer unbridled willpower. Death, it seems, is not the end after all, but merely a slightly foul-smelling temporary set back. Alas, sometimes, there are not enough fragrant flowers and French perfume. Nor indeed, enough stomach pumps for when various anatomical parts “let go” during dinner.

Bass, Various rumblings.

Mr. Titus Lungbutter

A towering guardian and living clay golem created by the Club to provide low sonic frequencies. Infused with the power of a hundred hands he also makes a convenient carrier of goods and upon the winter solstice, substitute for a Yule tree.