FUN BOY THREE
(UK, five Top 40 hits, two Top 40 albums)

The very idea of Terry Hall being in a band with the word 'fun' in their name remains laughable to this day. With the Specials completing their social commentating lectures, Hall re-emerged in late '81 (a mere four months after "Ghost Town" was at the top) with two pals and lots of jungle tribe rhythms which bounced through a song slightly more political than "Tarzan Boy" would be four years later. "The Lunatics (Have Taken Over The Asylum)" ("aah-aaaaaaah!") was certainly different from Hall's melancholy ska heritage (though he was still melancholy) and it made No.20, enough of a pinnacle to allow Specials diehards to come to terms with what the hell was happening to their man. Two more hits of equal value and positioning followed, and a couple of differently- credited duets with the newly-discovered Bananarama, one of which "It Ain't What You Do It's The Way That You Do It" ("and that's what gets results) took Hall's fresh outing to its highest position, before "Tunnel Of Love", a ballad of pure, unrequited, ishooless emotion made many see Hall in a new light and put him back in the Top 10 again. The last single was the biggest unaided hit "Our Lips Are Sealed" before Hall did another backturn and started thinking about project number three, which turned out to be The Colour Field. Though he will always be a Special to the majority, the whole decade allowed Hall to prove without a word of a lie that he was a brilliant, versatile and responsible pop gift from the Gods, with this short-lived project contributing in no uncertain terms.

Biggest Hit: "It Ain't What You Do It's The Way That You Do It" (with Bananarama), No.4, 1982
Defining Moment: "Aah-aaaaaaah!"

FARLEY 'JACKMASTER' FUNK
(US, one Top 40 hit, no Top 40 albums)

That name could sum up the entire decade, couldn't it? One hit "Love Can't Turn Around" in the late summer of '86 which featured Darryl Pandy doing the old vocal bit. What is a 'jackmaster' anyway? Many 14 year old boys could claim to be one...

Biggest Hit: "Love Can't Turn Around", No.10, 1986
Defining Moment: That name.

FUNK MASTERS
(UK, one Top 40 hit, no Top 40 albums)

It was a good hit, too. "It's Over" made No.8 in '83 but it also spelled the band's doom, as they had nothing to follow it up with. Still, it would eventually get plenty of airplay in dreary 'connection' features on the radio alongside Roy Orbison and Level 42.

Biggest Hit: "It's Over", No.8, 1983
Defining Moment: Just the single.

FUNKY WORM
(UK, one Top 40 hit, no Top 40 albums)

Sorry, but this is '88 again and we have explained on many a page that '88 was a blind year for us as much of the charts were so awful that we ceased to take much notice. Anyone in the mood to enlighten?

Biggest Hit: "Hustle (To The Music...)", No.13, 1988
Defining Moment: You tell us.

FUREYS WITH DAVEY ARTHUR
(Ireland, one Top 40 hit, two Top 40 albums)

They were Irish, they had more albums than singles and the one hit was called "When You Were Sweet Sixteen", so we are hazarding a guess that they were a bathchair Foster And Allen-esque combo of Pebble Mill value. So please excuse us while we ring Auntie Barbara to pick her brains. We may not upload her reply.

Biggest Hit: "When You Were Sweet Sixteen", No.14, 1981
Defining Moment: None at all.

FURNITURE
(UK, one Top 40 hit, no Top 40 albums)

Shortlived so-so British band whose one inroad into chartland was the top-drawer understatement that was "Brilliant Mind" ("you must be out of your brilliant mind") in '86 which would probably have been forgotten forever but for its inclusion on Now 7, at a time in life when collecting the Now compilations was still crucial.

Biggest Hit: "Brilliant Mind", No.21, 1986
Defining Moment: Just the single.

FUZZBOX
(UK, four Top 40 hits, one Top 40 album)

Okay, so before you e-mail in your thousands accusing us of total ignorance (though that hasn't stopped many people already doing that) we are fully aware that their full name was We've Got A Fuzzbox And We're Gonna Use It. But we can't be arsed to keep typing all that, and everyone, including the four lady protagonists themselves, used the shortened, friendlier moniker, therefore so are we. What a rowdy bunch they were. They launched in late '86 looking just like Sigue Sigue Sputnik in drag (or, in truth, looking just like Sigue Sigue Sputnik) and forced on to the Great British Public a shortlived collection of unrequited shouty crap, only one of which, "Love Is The Slug", managed to hit the Top 40. When they returned in '89, a nation let out a collective groan, but it was impetuous, to say the least. Though the multi-shade punk hairdos and lipgloss and daft ribbons still remained, they had watered themselves down both musically and emotionally, coming across as pleasant, articulate women who could really play, write and perform. Lead singer Vicki also went from psycho-bitch to lust goddess in one fell swoop and suddenly a public warmed to their previously-shrouded femininity, which was considerable bearing in mind that the slap and clothes and hairdye was as prevolent as ever. Vicki, who had a rather endearing (and possibly unintentional) habit of simulating surreptitious masturbation with a mike stand, laid down clear and versatile vocals on the comeback tune "International Rescue" ("there's danger on the way!") which paid homage to Gerry Anderson's finest brainstorm and would ultimately prove their biggest hit at No.11. But the follow-up was their strongest melody, a great roadshow opener in the summer of '89 and a genuine foot-stomper which kids, teenagers and adults could all infectiously sway along to. Vicki (surname escapes us) proved on "Pink Sunshine" ("when it's good it's wicked at the same time, cruising all over and I feel fine") that she could deliver something heartfelt while also allowing her distinctive voice to rage when necessary, and the song should have gone much, much higher than its No.14 placing. The final hit was the less remarkable "Self!" ("always you, never me, what the hell do you expect me to be?") which again showed the enthralling singer's sex-aid abilities with the mike stand. The album "Big Bang!" was one of the best of '89, though the star waned when an ill-advised cover of Yoko Ono's "Walking On Thin Ice" flopped, and Fuzzbox were goners. Their legacy was an ability to learn and mature from early enthusiasms, and appreciate and evaluate your talents, while conversely, never taking things too seriously and having a bloody good laugh. What could have been one big embarrassing joke became, albeit briefly, a joyous and credible pop phenomenon. They all (eventually) looked good as well - Vicky and blonde bassist Maggie won a number of unofficial 'sexiest pop women' awards, and a million late 80s teenage lads had someone else to join Wendy James on their bedroom walls at night. Marvellous stuff.

Biggest Hit: "International Rescue", No.11, 1989
Defining Moment: "Pink, pink sunshiiine...!"