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It was 1954. The world was suffering from unrequited love, a big post-war baby boom and an insatiable craving for sweet solace. In the heart of Little Italy, sharing a cold water flat with creepies, crawlies and things that go bump in the night lived Serendipity 3. Princes under their frog suits, they waited, lips pursed, for the kiss that would reveal their true selves. But it took a magic word to open the palace door. Days, they hounded producers’ offices. Nights they built skyscrapers of i...