‘Forever Fiends’, they said, as they raised their glasses of rancid, foul-stenching ale. ‘How can thee forever be my fiend when thee buys nowt but rancid, foul-stenching ale?’, asked one fiend. 'Aye, fair point', responded t’others. So they decided to take off their flat caps and do summit abart it.

Armed wi’ usual Yorkshire ingredients of a positive attitude, elbow grease and good honest hard graft – plus t’other ingredients for making ale – they went abart brewin’ up some magic and not just from their backsides this time. T’ingredients came together, helped along by their fiendship, and thee is now drinkin’ t’result.