Or: What can we learn from old hippie percussionists? On the left, our hair and neckerchief correspondent Julian. What is it that drives someone to look so bleedin' stupid? It could well be that well-known irritant, the 'matched grip' (or 'cack-handed awkward nonsense' as Julian describes it). However, we reckon it's the raccoon-scalp on his upper lip and the tacky neck-wear evidently fashioned from mum's old curtains. We vomit in his general direction. But this is all as nothing compared to the sartorial elegance displayed by Sandy (right), our very own shirt and dangly medallion expert.

"I may be smiling," says Sand, "but I am a complete and utter pratt." We would agree, guffawing most at the birds-dropping-covered blouse and the 500th-anniversary-of-the-birth-of-Buddy-Rich medal swinging in strict 13/8 round Sand's neck.

And we wonder why these people want to be drummers? It's obvious — hit things before someone hits you.