The mating practices of prawns, the size of bedbugs’ sexual organs and such weighty questions as, "Do insects have hearts?" and, "Do seahorses neigh?" All are prime fodder for a mid-afternoon natter with Liverpool’s latest export, the charming and eccentric Wombats. The Scouse indie trio are currently enjoying chart success with the maddeningly infectious ‘Let’s Dance To Joy Division’, a tantalising taster for the imminent longplayer A Guide To Love, Loss and Desperation. Relaxing before a recent Dublin show, the travel-weary combo (just off the early ferry) are shooting the breeze with Hot Press in their Dublin hotel.

“We used to call each other stupid wombats as a derogatory term,” explains Murph, the band’s frontman, when queried on the origins of their moniker. “We had no name as such at the beginning. One day before a gig someone asked us what we were called and Dan just said, ‘Call us The Wombats’. Here we are four years later in Dublin with a fluffy wombat.”
The creature in question, a miniature mascot called Cherub, presides over the interview from his vantage point in the centre of our table.
Rewind to 2003. The setting, Paul McCartney’s Liverpool Institute Of Performing Arts. Local lads Matthew Murphy and Dan Haggis befriend Norwegian Tord Øverland-Knudsen and decide to form a band. The Wombats are born.
“I met him in my last year actually,” states Murph when the subject of Sir Paul arises. “He gave a songwriting class. He was really nice but he had to keep running out to take calls from his lawyer. That was when things were really kicking off.”
Marital woes aside, did the songwriting legend have any indispensable advice or tips on the craft?
Murph furrows his brow.
“Er, no.”
Never mind. Since leaving their alma mater, the graduates have done Macca proud. They have the honour of being the only unsigned band to ever sell out Liverpool’s Carling Academy, and accumulated an impressive portfolio of prestigious support slots, including the Kaiser Chiefs and Babyshambles.
“They’re lovely; we did two dates with them in Madrid and Barcelona,” Dan says of the Kaisers. “My Dad burst into their dressing room and made a scene when he was pissed. He was drunk backstage in Barcelona. After the show he staggered over and congratulated them on a great gig. I think they were completely taken aback, but they invited him in for a beer.”
There was, however, no such fraternising on the Babyshambles tour.
“No, Pete was guarded,” says Dan. “Well, he didn’t have a choice I think. We wanted to go and say thanks on the last night but his manager refused. We just wanted to say, ‘Nice to meet you, good luck with the rest of the tour’, but not a chance.”
For the uninitiated, The Wombats live experience is no ordinary rockshow. The band regularly partake in a variety of highjinks and encourage audience participation in wacky contests. They also entertain the masses with jokes and facts of the day, hence our bizarre verbal detour into the mating habits of sea creatures.
Our conversation turns to the impending NME Rock Tour.
“Lethal Bizzle has been giving us a bad rap,” states Dan ominously.
“He wants to tousle with us apparently,” chips in Murph, looking nonplussed.
The cause of the friction is confusion over the billing on the tour.
“He thought he was supposed to be the main support,” explains Dan. “The Enemy are friends with him, so we’re going to walk in and it will be like someone has just crapped in the swimming pool and we are the crap.”
“They might look at us as if we were the ones that ran into their house on Christmas day and urinated all over their children’s Christmas presents,” muses Murph, tongue planted firmly in cheek.
A silence descends.
“I think we’ll just get the chinwags going and we’ll be okay,” concludes Dan with a warm smile.
Something tells me they’ll be just fine.

A Guide To Love, Loss And Desperation is out on November 5 on Warner.