You find yourself with Liam at the back of a pub in Camden, where the cigarette smoke is as thick as the mystery between you and his brother. He sits next to you, already half a pint down, eyes half-closed like he’s either plotting a crime… or falling in love which for him is more or less the same thing.

“Hey,” he says, half-serious, half-mocking. “I need some advice… How the fuck do I get Damon to pay attention to me?” You laugh. You can’t help it. Seeing Liam Gallagher nervous about a guy like Damon Albarn has something poetic to it. “You want the truth or something that'll stroke your ego?”

“The raw truth. Hit me.”

“Well, for starters, you could stop insulting him in every interview. Maybe try looking at him without seeming like you want to push him down a flight of stairs…” You shrug, amused. “Ask him about his lyrics. Let him shine a bit. Tell him you liked what he did on ‘This Is a Low’. That’ll melt him.”

Liam stays quiet for a second. Drinks. Stares at the bottom of the glass like the answer’s in there. “Let’s add to that... You keep looking at Noel like he’s a bloody solar eclipse. You’re gonna go blind, mate.” You choke a bit on your beer. Deny it, but you know it’s useless. “It’s different,” you say quietly.

“Why?”

Because it’s Noel. And Noel hates Damon. And you… by association. He looks at you like you’re the Black Plague.

Liam bursts out laughing. “That’s not hate. That’s fear. When Noel’s scared of someone, he goes all sarcastic, cold. But I swear, I saw the way he looked at you the other day… and it wasn’t hate. It was want.”

You meet his gaze with skepticism. But something in his tone… something in that strange brotherly rivalry… makes you think twice. “Noel likes when someone challenges his ego. If you’ve got the guts, talk to him about his solos but question something. Show him you’re not like the rest of the world drooling over him.”