Joseph’s demeanour is a caustic one. He is a firm believer that a man is
not a man unless his heart beats and his brain sends electrical impulses
to his body. He is a man of valour, a man of soul, and a man of both few
and many words. A poet and a visionary, he describes Fred’s music as
post-apocalyptic, pre-nuptial. Occasionally prone to making sense,
he drives the band forward, and to their gigs. Though already on his
2nd provisional licence, he hopes to one day apply for his test.

One of the three members to join Fred in Cork, Joseph left the supergroup
he was in beforehand when he discovered that very few of the members actually
had superpowers (he was later devastated to learn that his own gift of forgetting
peoples names was not technically a superpower). And when he fell, he fell hard.
He spent years as one of those people who paint their face white and stand still
for hours outside Brown Thomas, though no-one, not even he, knows why.

Eventually, he rediscovered his voice, and a fine voice it is too. For when
Joseph sings, both angels and donkeys could claim him as one of their own.