Wayne provides the band with its principal harmony, and can be found sharing his pain with Mark in mutual therapy sessions. This therapy takes the form of aromatherapy massage and hugging to bhangra music. “We have to be very close to feel where each other is going with the notes and stuff. That’s the thing about singing in our band. You have to close your eyes when you’re doing a really long note that just goes up and down and won’t fucking stop, so you need to know where your other band members are on a spiritual level.”

And Wayne is very spiritual - he thanks God every day for the band’s success, in a hand-written letter which he addresses to God in Heaven and doesn’t put a stamp on. It is Wayne’s deep religious beliefs that make the band so splendidly irksome. “I want everyone to know how much I love God. I want everyone to love God, even though they would find it very difficult to love him as much as I do. To quote the Spinal Tap movie, I turn my love for God up to 11. That’s one higher than your love.”

“There was this one time that I had doubts about my faith after I saw a war happening. I love all of God’s creatures - except for snakes, they’re icky - and it just seemed so unfair. I thought I was going to have to go and fight. Then I realised that they were all foreigners on TV, so I just kinda thought ‘fuck it’. But it was close, for a minute.”

Wayne sings with such passion that beads of spirituality form on his forehead. He wipes these off with a hanky, but he says it’s not the same hanky he uses for his bogeys! When he has a hanky sopping with sweat, he takes it home and grows cress on it. But he won’t let anyone else eat it. “I say no to people. I say ‘do you know how much sweat I put into that cress?’ and then I laugh, but I mean it - if they touched my sweat cress I would fucking kill them.”