It had to happen, I suppose. Sooner or later, every band breaks up. Usually acrimoniously. We never had a garage like American kids but we had our rehearsals in front rooms and church halls. There’s an origin story: our version of the garden fete at St Peter’s Church. You know the rest – the fame, the money and now the break-up. I’m not the one who wants the divorce and I’m the one that getting screwed. I’m not the clever one. I’m not the one who knows all the stuff about law and copyright. It’s got me over a barrel.