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Andy: "It was a few days before Christmas and I was laden with a cold/flu virus that made me feel like death warmed over (with chestnut stuffing!). One of Santa's jolly little helpers in the shape of photographer Herbie Yamaguchi instructed me to take my shoes and socks off, and preceded, in the midst of the gladatorial gloom that was our pre-gig dressing room, to give me an unbelievable foot massage.

"In ten minutes I went from that four day old glass of cider and cigarette ash sensation to feeling on top of the world (North Pole up my arse and all!). There were thousands of baying punters out there, and we were the band who were going to cure them of leprosy tonight!

"It's an interesting cocktail, that mixture of fear, defiance, Casanova cockiness and decibels that washes over you up there on stage. Guitar/Gun/Penis in hand, you simultaneously struggle to kiss and kill everyone in that room. Not an easy task . . ."