Wishbone Ash?

"Er er er, er er er er, er er er, er er er doombiddy doombiddy er er er, er er er er, er er er, er er er..."
"Will you stop that racket, PLEEEEZE!"
We're all in an air guitar frenzy here - and as with everything, it all gets a bit much at times. Especially when you're recovering from an almighty three day sesh at the Puff Inn, as we are.
But not as far as Tuppence is concerned. No. I'm afraid to say that my intrepid nephew is hellbent on getting a real guitar. (His moog ended up in the Bay after exploding and bursting into a ball of fire during his umpteenth rendition of Nut Rocker.)
"I want a change, uncle Tuppy! I'm sick of the moog!"
"Phew," we sighed. "At last."
"I want something else - something screechier..."
"Screechier than a moog?"
"Yes. I want a Gibson flying V. Like that guy from Wishbone Ash. And nothing's going to stop me."