During the dim and dark days of 2020, whilst the pandemic raged and friends and family were torn from one another during lockdown after lockdown, the Mischiefmeisters, the guardians of the darkest, dankest, most base humour, watched quietly and observed a World lost.

With hooded eyes and furrowed brows, they mourned the loss of humanity and connection that can only be born from a good giggle with friends, or the simple pleasure of enjoying a joke in dubious taste. In their dismay they retreated deep underground into secret caves where, according to myth, the elements and atmosphere combine to channel powerful corrupt humour to those with the ability to wield it. And then they began to craft. They toiled tirelessly whilst the scourge of COVID-19 kept father from son, mother from uncle, lover from lover and friend from friend, as the human race yearned for a little interaction, and a little fun. They laboured relentlessly whilst political correctness overran every aspect of society except, it seemed, the actual offices of politics itself, and they knew their time was coming.
 
And so, when the World was born anew, a horrifying World where people seem to be habitually and professionally offended and eggshells are under every falling foot, they emerged, carrying with them the saviour and salvation of all those who still simply want to have a bit of laugh.
 
Forged in the supercharged crucible of the pandemic and galvanised by a rejection of post pandemic woke culture, the Mischiefmeisters released unto the World – Verbal Abuse – The one filth to rule them all.