The following week, in a five-star hotel of a studio in central London, deep voice meets up with his two other band members. “Come out from behind those keyboards and turn on the lights in here, we’re not on stage. There’s no need to hide”, says the deep-voiced one.

Posh-hermit-producer – an anonymous-looking midget man with a paunch – emerges from behind some 9-foot high instrument racks with a middle-aged blond woman.

“OK, so any ideas for the new single”, deep voice says, so spiritually, it causes a studio engineer to throw himself to the floor and start praying.

“Terrific news”, says the posh man. “I’ve had my first creative thought in three years”.

“I’m feeling God’s hand upon our shoulders already, or maybe its a flashback to a previous life.”, says deep voice.

“Well, I rather thought we’d start with our classic normal kick drum loop – you know, the one all the kids in that Hacienda discotecque adore.”, says posh dwarf. “Then we add in some swirly noises and also a smashing squelchy bassline that’s all the rage among this brand new musical movement call electro I heard a few decades ago.”

“Oh…God help me.”. Deep voice looks crestfallen at the floor. “I suppose I could come up with a five syllable rap and repeat it 50 times as deep as possible”, he growls. He knows what’s coming.

“Yeah, brill,” says the woman, her face having seen a few too many summers. “I’ve got a brand new Korg, and its got a fancy arp-eg-gio function. I can play that say 100 times with some filters?”

“And my sister suggested I add lots of breakdowns and reverb, to, you know, maximise the atmosphere.” says posh shrimp.

“Good old Dido” says deep voice, sarcastically. “Always the innovator”.

“Or alternatively we could slip out a remix of “I can’t get no sleep” and sod off down the pub,” says rah-boy.

“After all, both fans love everything we do, so lets give them more of our winning formula”, says the blond.

“Yeah, we’ll definitely win a Mercury this year,” says deep voice, consoling himself on a spliff. “This track will go down a storm in Rixy’s all around the North East.”

“Er, I hope you don’t mind awfully if I stay in the broom cupboard during the recording chaps?”, says posh boy. “You know, don’t want to blow ones own trumpet eh?”

“Sure”, says deep voice. “You stay at home while we do the tour as well eh. Keep them royalties warm until we return in despair, ready for another five-year sabattical.”

“Jolly smashing ace,” says posh. “While you’re away, I’ll do 10 other remixes of “God is A DJ” and we can release a whole new album.”

http://www.faithless.co.uk/signup/Faithless_SunToMe.mp3