“We ain’t got no choice!” booms Nodd, the frenetic be-fringed frontman with Dublin’s Little Ghetto Boys, drawing a distinct line between ‘hobby bands’ and his own personal vocation: the purveyance of jazz-fuelled rock ’n’roll.

“When I was three, the teacher in nursery school gave us all percussion instruments to play and she gave me a drum and one drumstick,” recalls drummer Doug C. Strange. “So I’d cry until I got the second one.”

Having spanned the multiverse of dodgy teen band-dom (including a Doors cover group, a “dark rock” collective named Lemon Soul, “we got the name from an Abrakebabra menu”, and funk band Vertigo Vision) the ’Boys stumbled across a common appreciation for The Police, Foo Fighters, NWA and, perversely, the kids’ TV show Rainbow.

“I’ve got the original Rainbow soundtrack on vinyl. It’s brilliant!” boasts Nodd, treating the surrounding pub-goers sharing our interview space to an impromptu “do doo dooo” version of the theme tune. “There’s a ’20s tune about wood and a song about shapes on it. And what’s amazing is that it is literally about wood or shapes! There’s no undercurrent to it! One of the lyrics is ‘I’d be a triangle, sides 123’. It’s fucking mad. The other one is ‘We have got to cut down trees tooooo use the wood’.” Nodd continues singing away to himself merrily, caught in the mystical land of childhood reminiscence. Bless.

Doug C., however, is having none of it.

“Someone you have to mention is Ken Nordeen,” he quips, nonchalantly. “He was a beatnik, spoken word, slam poet dude. Went for the whole beret-on-the-head/bongo thing – a real cat. He had lots of socio-political pieces, one called ‘Flesh’, and it goes through all the colours of flesh. It’s bizarre. I got it off an album called The World’s Most Incredibly Weird Music, Volume Two. They’ve got The Lord’s Prayer in Hawaiian with a calypso beat as well,” he adds. “Very kitsch, y’know wharra mean?”

Primarily a live band, the quintet have played over 50 gigs since their inception a year ago, including some of the more obscure venues the nation has to offer.

“On St Patrick’s Day 2002 we played in Skerries,” smiles Nodd. “It was lashing rain – freezing! – and we were on the side of this truck and the local army personnel were there. It was a great crowd, despite the rain, but we were playing to a bunch of kids and stuff. And some of our lyrics aren’t particularly kid-friendly, so we had to change them. It was a bit ironic – you’re up there doing songs about hookers on Leeson St and you’re looking down at people dancing around with their kids. Strange.”

But things can only get stranger, particularly if you’ve got an Alabama 3 tour penciled into your diary, a band notorious for seriously impairing their guests’ sobriety with a lethal mixture of drink and various other intoxicating substances (Stuart Clark has never been the same since).

“We’re touring with them around Ireland for a biker festival. It’ll be pretty hectic – we’ll be destroyed by the end,” whimpers Nodd, with a twinkle in his eye.

“I’m up for the challenge!” adds a chipper Doug C. “I’m going to apply for VHI before the tour, though.”

Before we depart, I’ve heard rumours that you have a penchant for getting naked on stage. Please validate…

Doug C. erupts in giggles “Sorry,” he says, “I was just thinking about last night. All I had on was me hat.”

“The sort of music we play ends up in a funk, gospel celebration kinda thing,” adds Nodd. “And the last thing you want is to feel uncomfortable. You just wanna get naked and be ‘Here I am! This is what it’s about!’ The things we say in those songs are very close to our hearts, and we really believe in them. To get up in front of a crowd and really show your true self takes courage, but when you’re there, you want to be as raw as you can and when you get into the performance physically, you really do sweat. Someone once described jazz as blues falling down the stairs; and rock ’n’ roll is the same kind of thing. You just get up and you party. It’s become addictive now,” he grins. “ I love taking me clothes off.”