Disposable Raygun, the hypothetical pop band of no-hopers of which I'm the leader, are going to need a new drummer.
The original sticks-man, cousin Thomas, aged ten, is planning to form his own combo, The Betters, having received a guitar for Christmas.
Contact me somehow if you'd be interested in pretending to be the tub-thumper for a crappy, non-existent group.
People with talent need not apply.
