Rockers of ages: From left, Brooke, Lucie, Sophie Andy Fallon

The Dolly Rockers’ story is a fairytale. OK, so it’s not quite picture-book ­perfect, but it would make a watchable TV movie.

Three girls, Brooke, Sophie, and Lucie, answer an ad for a hot new girl band in The Stage, but find the direction the manager has in mind – he wants to call them Jailbait – dubious, to say the least. They escape his “lair” and audition for The X Factor, the most magical show in the land, and make it as far as boot camp. Sadly, they are booted out.

Not to be put off, the maidens bulldoze their way into the home of influential songwriter Ray Hedges (Take That, PJ & Duncan), demanding he work for them in the good old tradition of Sonia and Spice Girls. And OMG, he does! What they cook up is exhilarating starburst pop, complete with street-savvy lyrics, thick regional accents and obscure 80s samples that would have La Roux scratching her bird’s nest.

They’ve come a long way in the four years since they formed.

“I thought I’d made it, and I was living in a squat in ­Edmonton,” laughs Brooke, the tiny 21-year-old from ­Stalybridge, whose brogue is so thick she makes Alex Turner sound like Stewie Griffin.

“When our first manager told us we were going to be doing working men’s clubs we thought it was great,” says Sophie from Leeds, another tiny 21-year-old who gabbles 10 to the dozen.

“We were just three girls with teddy bears, baggy jeans and Uggs,” adds Lucie, 22, the regular-sized one from ­Palmers Green who wears DMs to avoid dwarfing her bandmates.

But the girls say they’re glad to have gone through the bad to get to the good.

“If we’d done well on The X Factor, we never would have had that opportunity to fail, and for our minds to expand,” says Brooke.

"I’m glad we failed. X Factor strips you of your personality” Lucie, Dolly Rocker"

“X Factor strips you of any personality,” agrees Lucie. “They tell you what to sing, what to wear and they would have totally suppressed us.”

Sophie chips in: “Most girl bands have a middle-aged man sitting in an office telling them what to do.

“We came up with our look before we got signed and we already had our single and video [which they filmed guerrilla-style darting in and out of shop windows in ­Oxford Street].”

Musically the trio were ­inspired by storytellers with distinct voices like Jamie T, Kate Nash and Mike Skinner, but their songwriting is a ­collaborative process. The girls fit their “poems” to ­melodies and backing tracks. “We’ve got a good ear, but we need a lot of guidance,” says Brooke, honestly.

And in a diatribe that would make X Factor honchos shriek, she proceeds to rip into a certain type of girl ­described in their songs Gold Digger and Champagne Shirley: “If I come across bitchy for having an opinion on girls who get their boobs out for £300, so be it. The girls we’re having a go at are those like that slut who (allegedly, Brooke!) slept with Cheryl Cole’s husband. And we don’t like how Jordan glamorised it. Earning money from doing something, it doesn’t make it right.”

“I love watching that ­programme,” says Sophie, not liking the direction of Brooke’s rant.

“Yeah, you love to hate her,” Brooke says, crushing ­Sophie’s goodwill. “She’s not just sold her fake tits, she’s sold her soul. She’s got to the point where no one wants to see her tits any more and the fairytale marriage was an ­illusion – she sold it all and has ­nothing left of herself.”

“You won’t put all that stuff about Jordan in, will you?” asks Sophie as we leave the JordanKensington cafe. I mumble “maybe I won’t” and jump on a Tube. Sorry, girls, but ­welcome to the fray.

Gold Digger is out now