Little is known about Pheobus’ background. We know he has a funny accent and is very careful with his money(1) so it’s a safe bet he’s either Scottish or from Yorkshire, but no record can be found to back this up. Still, he’s never bought any of the other fleas or circus hands a drink ever. Not once. Not even a coke. Tight fisted little sod.
Anyway, the first records of him seem to be those of the Linden Youth Offending Board (Corn Field Division) where he was reprimanded for a series of griefing attacks in which unfortunate noobs were set on fire moments after setting foot off the ferry. These poor noobs were heard to say “Hey! What’s going on?” and “What? What’s this fire? HELP!!!1”and “Babe sex please me?” before he pushed them into other noobs setting them on fire too.
Clearly a troubled soul(2), he was sent to the Corn Field which he promptly burnt down. He was then sent to a secure facility in a Linden Lab server farm which he burnt down. From there he was sent to an underwater containment facility just off Nautilus which he burnt down.
The exasperated Lindens held a special secret meeting (delayed three times due to fire alarms as Pheobus tried to burn it down) and decided upon their most radical solution yet. Exile to Prokofy Neva’s Free Tibet! Here amid the snowy wastes the young Pheobus was to be schooled by one of the grid’s most renowned pacifists, The Great and Benevolent Guru Swami Bernard.
Although Pheobus managed to burn down two mountains, one party of hikers and several of Guru Bernard’s best beards, the good Swami’s patience and fatherly concern slowly worked their magic on the dear little troubled soul and within a year the old Pheobus was gone. Instead, in his place, stood the new Pheobus! Focused, caring, dedicated and 90% less dangerous! A tough regime of mental and physical training had yielded great results and the young Fire-Flea was almost ready to rejoin society(3), all he had to complete was Guru Bernard’s final task – a three week long blindfolded hike through the mountains juggling five blazing termites in which he must never stop for food or sleep or drink and he must never, ever drop a termite or allow it to go out.
And so it was that one day from the end of this mammoth task the exhausted Pheobus came to trip over a snoozing Professor Antfarmoffski and drop all his termites. The rest, dear reader, is history…
(1) It’s rumoured that his purse contains groats and the small desiccated bodies of moths…
(2) In this case, code for ‘right little arsehole’
(3) Probably as a stoker on the Caledon Light Steam Rail Network.