Dispensing with their traditional kow-towing to glitterati like Mick McCarthy and Mark Lawrenson, the lads look set to become A-list stars in their own right.

When the Champions' league went into hiatus late last year, few were aware that the boys immediately rushed straight into intensive dance and singing training at a secret location in the Dublin docklands. For months they drilled under the tutelage of the legendary Billie Barry until their act was honed to perfection. Yesterday, at a hastily arranged press conference, the press finally learned of their new venture. The three strode manfully out into the glare of the photographers' flashes, tucked into a complementary six-course lunch, and announced that they have formed an experimental new boyband known as 3hree.

The band hoped to keep the reporters amused, Beatles-style, with ready wit, sardonic humour, and deft turns of phrase. When this proved to be a non-runner, however, they resorted to their traditional approach of reading the pre-prepared script from the autocue.

Manager Louis Welch (Trevor's cousin) stood by as they fielded the questions of the assembled reporters. Only occasionally did the searing tensions at work behind the scenes spill over into open conflict between the band's three mighty egos. Even so, it was not until dessert was served that the threat of deadly force finally become a reality. A difference of opinion over the ownership of the last cream cup saw Cooney grab Welch around the neck, holding him supine while King pummelled him in the stomach. "Ah, Trevor's used to it," opined Cooney as Trevor croaked for assistance.

Soon afterwards, the press found themselves in physical danger. This was when, at the behest of their manager, 3hree stood to lip-sync over their imminent single "3hree Gon' Git U, Sucka!"

Unfortunately, the event's organizers had not anticipated that, under the weight of two portly, middle-aged gentlemen and their scrawny sidekick, all attempting to cut a rug while miming some football-themed gangsta rap, the floor of the Berkeley Court Hotel conference hall would begin to shake like Los Angeles in a 9.5-on-the-Richter-scale earthquake.

However, the prompt action of the police, fire brigade and ambulance service ensured that falling debris caused no loss of life or permanent injury. When pressed about the extent of their liability for this mishap, Cooney pointed into the distance, saying "Look, is that Grainne Seoige?", and then, accompanied by King, bolted out into the car park through a fire exit and sped away in an 89 C-reg Ford Cortina. "Hey, that's my car!" cried Welch before being led away by the Gardai for questioning. As we went to press, his colleagues had as yet failed to post the 50 pounds bail required for his release.