One cold and starry night in December 1994, a tiny, beguiling creature poked its nose through its delicate eggshell in the dark recesses of a decrepit London pub. This beast was bright-eyed, slightly clumsy, but ever so hungry. His name was Reverberations. Soon enough, his his whiskers grew and learned the ways of the world. He was often to be found alone in rooms making inimitable repetitive noises that would thereafter be stored on magical black discs. These disks quickly gained repute the world over, and it wasn’t long before the beast could be seen poking his whiskers in hundreds of cities around the globe, so people may hear him making these strange noises in front of them.
Cut to 17 years later, the creature had grown weary. It looked in the mirror in terror of its coming of imminent coming-of-age. All it saw was that long awkward word that no one could spell: Reverberations. “All these syllables,” it thought, “they are but the wrinkles of old age!” it declared desperately. And without haste, the beast flew to Russia to see a plastic surgeon, who carefully gave it wonderful facelift free of any such “wrinkles”. Rejuvenated, the animal returned home as “RvS” and resumed its clamourous activities.