“[Alice] tells the story of how, while she was on tour with Crystal Castles, she received a call to tell her that, having fallen behind on her rent payments, all her belongings had been removed and left in the front yard. “When I got back two weeks later, I found that the only things that had been taken were, like, the very worst records in my collection. Everything that meant a lot to me was still there – even my lyrics. No aspect of my life proved remotely appealing to anyone in Toronto.” This ought to be the bit where Kath goes, “ … apart from me”, but he has taken to idly piercing a polystyrene cup with a pen. All things considered, we are lucky to have had his attention for the past 50 minutes. Nevertheless, as midnight approaches, Kath allows himself a moment of eye contact and a few words of friendly advice. “If a crackhead attempts to wedge the front door open with their foot, just push them out of the way. They’re usually too wasted to do anything back.” Then it’s back to work on the polystyrene cup.”

“People would look better if they didn’t spend money on clothes. If they took what they found and just made the most of it, that’d be good.”

“Loads of old fucker guys give me shit and I’ll stare them out…I’m good at that. We used to all hang out in this abandoned brick factory, there would be bonfires and fights and endless pills. Satanists, dressed in crap goth gear, once came in and got pissed off that we weren’t Satanists, so they tried to take it over. Luckily we had our crowbars…”