It started with a uke...

A lone purple ukulele once stood in the corner of The Broca coffeeshop in Brockley. It was abused by toddlers, puzzled over by guitarists and mocked by tourists. But the uke stood tall and one by one the closet uke players of Brockley emerged from collective obscurity to touch its tender nylon strings and tease forth an endless stream of comedy covers, mash-ups and songs of heart-breaking beauty. They continue to meet each week at The Broca with the intention of battering the memory of George Formby into the ground...