Incredible. Unbelievable. Impossible. And true

Y'know, AP was pretty self-indulgey. But AP2 (No. - Ed).

Much about AMIGA POWER is legendary, from our uncompromising honesty to (not unrelatedly) being the defendant in the largest number of lawsuits ever served on a computer games magazine.

But that's enough about that. Whatever Happened To... the Four Cyclists Of The Apocalypse, eh? It was inevitable we'd do a joystick round-up at some point (in fact, examining the AP Archives, we learn of one in AP14. It was a big list. Called Stick Around For Joy. Oh dear) and what better way to make it interesting than to summon the only minor deities committed to a programme of rigorous consumer testing, so those found wanting didn't receive a poor mark but burned in hell forever? To become similarly famous through our alerting you to their existence were Canoe Squad, the cult television programme, and the successor to Red Bull Energy Pop, the lightly sparkling fish drink F-Max. And just because they couldn't get the cheat to work, everyone said we made up Sinister Theme Park. For heaven's sake.

Less contentious was AP32's poppy issue, which passed into legend when the Royal British Legion sued us over a picture of a flower and banned the cover forever. (So not less contentious at all, then.) And certainly unarguable was our legendary performance in the Remember Kids - Drinking's Not Big, Hard Or Clever But We're All Three So That's All Right Then Afternoon Alcohol Marathon Of Champions, in which we saw off all-comers and, judging by the recent reports of that sherry-heavy meeting between the Prime Minister and the President of the United States, proved we're considerably harder than the government. (But still unable to format a disk, eh, readers? Like we care.)

If you, our readers, were to ask another you, our readers (possibly one in a position of journalistic power) to name the most legendary aspect of AP, you'd likely list our Five Hardy Jokes, which, slightly rearranged in a different order each month, served us well for the entire run of the mag. Or maybe you'd just wish us all dead for showing you up something rotten. Not that it would matter - our snow fort is impregnable, where we crouched awkwardly in seclusion to determine the finally definitive AP All-Time Top 100 every year. And just when did this all start anyway?

But hist! It is already four o'clock. Time to pick up our special friends from their palace balcony for the Friday Afternoon Trip To The Pictures to see The AP Movie. Essential information on more legendary aspects of AP - the eerily successful Inter-Office Brainwashing Campaign, for instance, Cam's oft-hinted-at powers of pyrotechnical wrangling and the AP Memorial Fridge, or stars of the mag like The Disseminator, Roy Nesbit Of Crewe and Hamble - will be disseminated in due course. Two pages of which magazine in AP41? No idea what you mean, guv.