YOU’LL UNDERSTAND the apprehension I felt when the call came through. “Niall,” said the judge, jury and executioner at the other end of the line, “I have some bad news.”

Aisling’s tone was grave, and I was uneasy. Had someone died? Had Yorkies gone up to 36p? Had Feargal Sharkey resumed his singing career? My mind raced. At least, it chugged a little more excitedly than usual.

“No, it’s much worse than that. You might want to sit down,” she advised, in as comforting a tone of voice as she could muster. I obeyed, and she paused. “We want you to interview Shampoo.” Then I hung up, because when the phone line is dead, no-one can hear you scream.

Shampoo, sex kittens supreme and the duo behind the, shall we say, exuberant debut We Are Shampoo, have got a bit of a reputation. Their favourite words are “boring” and “wanker”, or, rather, “BAW-RING!” and “WANK-AH!!!”. They are, by all accounts, fond of shouting “Double wanker! Both hands!” at innocent passers-by on the street, not to mention incompetent, intimidated interviewers. They have also been known to swing from crystal chandeliers and trash Parisian hotel rooms with a berserk gay abandon that even the Gallagher brothers or Led Zeppelin would frown upon. I’m too highly strung for this kind of thing.

Luckily, for me, Shampoo are tremendously hungover the day I meet them. They’ve just been to Belfast with the teenpop carnival of sorts that is the Smash Hits Roadshow, featuring such illustrious names as Let Loose, East 17, Boyzone and Aidan out of Eastenders (whose real name escapes me, but he has a record out, apparently).

So I’m greeted by Carrie with a “Hiya!” rather than a “WHERE’S THE VODKA?!,” which is good. Jacqui, meanwhile, doesn’t look up from the Stone Roses article she’s poring over. Which gives me a conversational gambit: pouting, pop singing, being from the United Kingdom – you and the Roses have a lot in common, Jacqui.

“Yeah,” she beams, looking up. “We’re really big fans of the Stone Roses, we think their new single’s brilliant!”

Jacqui bends her head again, and Carrie goes on. “We’ve been best friends for about six years, since we were at school. We were into the same music and fashion and everything, and especially the Stone Roses and all of them sort of bands, that was the Manchester scene at the time.”

“Then, after we became really good friends, it was stuff like the Manic Street Preachers: you know,we were like ‘Oh God’, you know. Blokes in makeup! But our big thing, our first thing was always the Stone Roses.”

Jacqui lifts her head again. “Our manager works with the Stone Roses as well and he said they came into the office the other day and Ian said ‘Say hello to Shampoo for me, I remember when they used to really like us’. She’s quite proud. This was about four years ago . . .”

“It’s longer than that,” corrects Carrie. These things are important.

“Yeah, it is, but he said he remembers us when we used to go and see them, ’cos we went up when they were in court in London and met him.”

It’s not so surprising that he remembers them, though. They do have blindingly blonde hair and wear lots and lots of makeup, big pink shades, very tight, tiny T-shirts and tinfoil trousers.

“Yeah, it must be our image and the fact that we were so determined to be in a band that made us stick out,” muses Jacqui.

“I remember telling him ‘Oh, we’re going to be in a band!’, and he was like ‘That’s great’. It was quite exciting.”

But these days Shampoo are the popstars, with two big hits, a very drunken jet-setting lifestyle and copious Smash Hits covers. They’re still in their teens: what do their childhood friends, who are still doing Metalwork A-Levels, think of all this?

“We don’t see any of our old friends . . .” replies Jacqui.

Ah yes, typical. Cosseted from the real world in your den of pop star vice and iniquity, you have burnt your bridges and rejected your roots. I might have known.

Carrie finishes her best mate’s sentence. “. . . We didn’t really have any friends.”

Oh. Wrong again.

“We were so close anyway and we didn’t need anyone else – plus,” she continues, getting right to the heart of the matter, “everyone thought we were completely mad! Where we come from (London), everyone’s just normal and wears really boring clothes, you know? They just thought we were both really weird.” She giggles. “But it’s OK, we thought they were all really boring.”

So what of the Parisian hotel wrecking scenario? (As documented, in excruciating detail, in a recent Melody Maker story, the girls did £4,000 worth of damage on a one-night drinking and throwing things around binge in Gay Paree a few months back.) Does this kind of thing happen often?

Carrie winces at the memory of that particular hangover. “Nah, that was the first and last time. It’s not the kind of thing you’d bother doing more than once.”

It’s not the kind of thing most people do at all, I point out.

“Yeah!” (Giggles)

So you’ve never been arrested for dropping a telly onto someone’s head from twenty storeys up.

“No.” (Giggles)

You’ve never been arrested at all? Go on, you can tell me. I’ve been arrested and I’m not ashamed to say it.

“Yeah, but your Mum won’t read it!” says Jacqui, making Jimmy Page proud.

She will too, I protest. She reads everything I do so she can cross out the swear words.

(Giggles) “No, we haven’t been arrested.”

Oh well, I’m unconvinced, but on we trot. What d’you think of Boyzone?

“Oh, we really like them,” smiles Carrie. “We’ve been trucking with them (Oo-er) on the road. They’re really, really nice people.”

“What’s that guy’s name, Steve? Every time we see him we just go ‘PARTY!!! WHERE’S THE VODKA?!’ says Jacqui, quite loudly. “And he says ‘Party, where’s the vodka’ (a little less deafeningly) and ‘I’m bored!’ He’s good fun, but those guys come from dance schools and that so they’re a bit disciplined, but we came from the indie scene so we can stay up drinking until 6am, we don’t have anyone saying ‘Off to bed!’ They’re not as rock’n’roll as us.”

Ah, but who is? Shampoo: Timotei-king on the world.