100% Artificial Insincere Hypocritical Guarantee

Snow Patrol is the biggest divide in Britain. They’re probably the biggest band in Britain, but they’re also the most hated. It’s a weird dichotomy for them. They are utterly deplorable, there is something unredeemingly utterly shit about them, you just cannot put one’s finger on.  It’s a desperate form of music, the endless repeated lines, over and over, the same drab fucking little thing on and on and on. They’re the great losers turned into the great winners, that’s their redemption. I won’t be watching them.

The first festival we all went to when we were kids was WOMAD with Siouxsie and The Housemartins.  We were so clean!  We stank of soap!  Typical students thinking that wearing a black t-shirt made us weird.  When we got there, we couldn't believe what was happening.  There were naked people on each other's shoulders, selling drugs, shouting, 'Recommended by Ian Botham!', and we thought: 'Dearie me, what's all this?'

No, we've had it with this bollocks.  You're being deliberately contrary.  Basically, you pretend to hate anything labelled indie. "We're not pretending," says Nicky, "We do hate it." Why?  What's the big deal? "There is no big deal, that's the point," says Nicky.

The f***ing Levellers?  We've done loads of dates with bands like The Levellers, where the whole audience completely despises us, and we've gone onstage and been obscenely arrogant.  And rightly so.  They can't understand any band who has pretension, who thinks of rock 'n' roll as power, who wants to dress up.  You can tell they're middle-class poseurs because they wanna dress down like scummy people.  The working-class tradition has always been to want to be clean and dress up.  All my dad's friends want to do when they come home from the pit, or whatever, is have a wash, have a shave, dress up and go out.  The last thing we ever wanted to do was wear rags.  You could go to any Levellers concert and stand in the middle and shout 'Jeremy!' and 75 per cent of the audience would turn around.  The Levellers, I can't f***ing believe it.

Exhausted, we sink back into the upholstery, both of us trying to conjure some ingenious riposte.  But Richie and Nicky are way ahead of us.  They've tasted blood, and Nicky can smell some more. "So, er, what do you think the Brightest Hope's gonna be?" he asks, with affected innocence. Dunno. "Oh come on." Dunno, honestly.  Curve, maybe The Levellers. "The Levellers?" asks Richie, with appalled amusement. Maybe.