It’s a baking hot August afternoon in south London, and three fifths of The Maccabees have just narrowly avoided being mown down by a 15ft-tall goods vehicle.
Sheltering in a patch of shade outside the industrial park unit where they’re currently sweating it out in rehearsals, their neighbours — a fish warehouse and a large branch of Screwfix — clearly aren’t bothered about the health and safety of their recently reunited band in residence.
