Three years on from their debut, Friday Night at the Trabi Races, Heist are still stuck down a back-street in 1960s Paris, constructing cinematic daydreams and thinking scathing thoughts about modern England.

These gently swinging boys and girls bitterly detail the mundane detritus they despise, from dead-end office jobs and "Sunday league obscurity" to shopping centres and lotteries.

With John Barry, Serge Gainsbourg and Abba as influences - the latter's Fernando is retold as a working-class revolt in Business as Usual - Heist offer a strange, bittersweet concoction of violins, trumpets, edgy guitars and kazoo.

But the melodies are gorgeous. Weekend evokes Grace Kelly driving an open-topped car on a sunny day, until the guitar breaks into Jimi Hendrix's Crosstown Traffic, polluting the illusion.

This is a typical day in Croydon as film noir, with the clattering of a typewriter and bleeping tills serving as reminders that however lush the escape, reality is never far behind.