The inaugural Borderline Festival will see an eclectic mix of acts from Ireland and abroad take over The Workmans Club in Dublin later this month, with the lineup boasting an intriguing selection of leftfield, envelope-pushing artists.

One such band oozing off-kilter goodness is Fat Dog.

Irreverent, high-powered, and unapologetically themselves, the South Londoners’ unique brand of techno-infused, exotic punk has steadily built them a dedicated following in their native city and beyond – with support slots for internationally renowned acts like Yard Act and Viagra Boys also on their CV.

Hitherto lauded for their boisterous live sets - it’s not just the music drawing in patrons from far and wide.

“Chris is a great salsa Dancer”, quips lead guitar player, vocalist, and principal songwriter Joe Love.

“I do dance good,” acknowledges keyboardist and die-hard Toronto Maple Leafs fan Chris Hughes. “Ben, the bass player, he's got loads of sex appeal too. To sum it up, every night we give it all for the three points. We give 110% and the crowd sees that.”

Their Keaneian efforts have landed them a spot on Domino Records’ illustrious roster. I’m told a debut album is in the works, set to be mixed by esteemed Arctic Monkeys collaborator James Ford. How have the band managed to transmit their wonderfully chaotic live sound to tape?

“It’s been quite hard to get rid of all the ska bits” says Joe. “When people start saying we sound like Madness you die a little bit inside.”

It’s evident after five minutes of conversation that these geezers take a sportive approach to being professional musicians. In many respects, Fat Dog was formed as an antithesis to what they feel is an overly self-serious scene in their native South London.

“Some bands try to create this aura around themselves, like they have a point to prove. That’s not us,” says Chris.

“It’s all ‘life is so painful and hard, we have to reflect that’, while I’m more like - ‘I live with my parents, you live with your parents, just go out and have a good time, it’s not the end of the world for you right now.’”

Refreshing as their attitudes may be, the lads tell me that their distinct energy occasionally rubs a few concert purists the wrong way.

“Sometimes during support gigs people get really angry when we go full balls-to-the-wall,” Chris explains. “They tell us that we’re ‘just there to fluff the crowd’ and that our ‘arrogant little singer shouldn’t be swinging his tiny pecker about’”.

“Fuck those people,” adds the ‘arrogant little singer’ in question. “Of course, if we were on before an older person who had to be wheeled out, we’d play it down.”

“I really wouldn’t like to go on before Bob Dylan” chimes Chris. “He’d be standing there the whole time with his arms crossed.”

On the subject of still-active legends á la Robert Zimmerman, I probe the boys for their thoughts on the icons of yesteryear who haven't yet ceased conjuring up records and tours.

“When you're a hundred-and-fucking-six like the Rolling Stones you can release anything you want,” professes Joe. “You just have to scrape Keith Richards off the floor like bubble-gum every night and take 15 minutes to reconstitute him in a jam jar.”

With the concept of being elder statesmen evidently unnapealing, Chris and Joe have apparently already tied down their preferred modes of premature passing.

“Asphyxiation from face-sitting” deadpans the former.

“I’ve agreed to have someone take me out in the back of the head, after the album wins a Grammy of course,” adds his mate.

Something tells me that glitzy award ceremonies wouldn't exactly be Fat Dog’s concept of a good time.

“I don't know,” admits Joe. “It seems like a lot of bullshit to me now because it feels very unmusical. Maybe I’m salty because we’re never going to win one”.

“There's this interesting thing called ‘mass appeal’,” supplements Chris. “And we do not seem to have that.”

While they mighn't be overly sanitised or radio-friendly, there’s an unmistakable air of old-school punk in the way Fat Dog operates, which is as rewarding for them as it is inspiriting for their listeners.

“We've got a small, niche appeal,” says Joe. “I think it’s better to have 300 happy fans rather than 10,000 average ones.”

“The last time we played Workmans there were about four people in the crowd, and that was the other band,” he continues, also revealing his revultion from paying ten euro for a pint of Guinness during their previous Irish outing.

“I'm English. They're probably fucking ripping me off, aren't they?”

“Some homeless guy gave us a couple bottles of wine that he stole from a supermarket, that was the best bargain we got,” recalls Chris. “We didn't want to drink it for a while because we thought he'd done something to it. We got over it eventually.”

Upon their return to the capital, it’s fair to say that they’ll have a substanitally larger audience with whom to bark and boogie. I’m not sure if anyone can vouch for the pints being cheaper though.

• Fat Dog play Dublin's Workmans Club as part of the Borderline Festival on Thursday February 15. They also have shows lined up for Dolans in Limerick on February 16, and Galway's Roisín Dubh on February 17. Tickets for each gig can be found via this link.