One day "A band!" I declared. Alex looked at me with a raised eyebrow "A band, squire? Folly!" Alex was a queer fellow. The idea of such tomfoolery brought a new sickness to his stomach, he loathed his companion for even bringing up the idea.
But then, as he stared into the fireplace smoking his pipe, he had an epiphany. "Eureka!" he exclaimed "A band it shall be." and thus it was. After fashioning a crude guitar out the living room door, I once again caught his eye. "Alex, might I enquire as to who will bash sticks?"
He pondered this while stroking his mighty beard. I glanced out the window and sipped my port, staring at the meadow through the snow. It's hopless, I thought. All my companions are woodland creatures, they are not fit for a musical escapade and make no mistake.
"It is impossible!" I declared. However, on that very next morning we stumbled upon a fellow of noble gentry ripe for the task, and so young master Ben Croft stepped forward. Begging at our door step, for twigs and pig bladders with which to make a rudimentary drum kit in his rhythmic poverty. "By Jove, come and join our band, good sir." I exclaimed, and thus he did.
