It's the classic tale, isn't it? Young lad joins recording studio as tea boy, sits in on sessions, gets thrown in at deep end when chief engineer leaves, becomes world-famous platinum-selling multi-millionaire record producer.

But let's stop and think: What if he made a lousy cup of tea? He'd have been out on his ear faster than you could say "Sounds a bit chalky in the upper mids".

Tea is the very lifeblood of the recording studio. Forget coffee and cocaine, pills and pot. You know those stories about Fleetwood Mac snarfing up entire Bolivian coca leaf farms while recording "Rumours"? Rubbish! It was tea that kept them going! A good cuppa will do the job every time. If you learn no other studio skill, learn this one.

Rule Number One: No teabags. NO TEABAGS!! I was aghast, on visiting the USA, to order a cup of tea and be presented with a cup of warm water and an Earl Grey teabag sitting in the saucer. This breaks so many of the rules of tea making that it really makes one despair of the USA ever becoming a truly civilised country.

Teabags are made with fine, powdery tea, the dregs from the bottom of the tea chest. Not only is the flavour appalling, but the fineness of the powder makes the tea far too strong far too quickly by immediately releasing lots of tannic acid. Allowing good leaves to steep in hot water for the right length of time lets loose the full flavour of the tea. And teabags are really no more convenient: you've got to undo that stupid cellophane wrapper, hope the string doesn't break, time the dunking period to the nanosecond, fish the sodden heap out of your cup, squeeze out the excess water thereby releasing even more tannic acid, realise there's nowhere to put the sclungy thing, then get a cloth to clean up the big fat mess you made.

The perfect cuppa begins with fresh, loose tea leaves. Fresh, loose unflavoured tea leaves from the tea plant camellia senensis. There is no reason to go mucking about with nature's perfect beverage by adding blackcurrant or vanilla, or that diabolical concoction of stinky flavourings known as Earl Grey. Forget, too, about your chamomile tea and your rooibus tea and your mint tea and other herbal infusions. Just plain, ordinary tea, preferably from Ceylon, and - as with whisky - preferably unblended. Tea keeps fairly well in an airtight container in the pantry (never the fridge), but if you're unsure of the freshness of your leaves have a little sniff: stale tea smells like straw.

The next step is cause for much discussion at the igStudio: hot or cold water in the kettle? Kim insists the water must be cold. I use hot water to speed up the tea-making process, and I have to say I have never received a complaint. We are agreed on one thing though: Rule Number Two: the water must be fresh. Empty your kettle, let the tap run for a few seconds before filling the kettle to avoid any nasty copper taste from water standing in the pipes, and never use water that has been boiled previously.

While the water is boiling you can quietly go about preparing your cups and teapot. You can get the routine timed to perfection. As soon as you switch on the kettle select the cups or mugs. A fine china or crockery is preferred; if the cup is too thick the tea will be too thick. Rule Number Three: Pour the milk in first. I don't care what HRH Queen Elizabeth II does - obviously one can't get a decent cuppa at the Palace these days. No, the milk must go in first: adding cold milk to hot tea will scald the milk.

Empty your teapot. Old leaves can go down the sink drain if you flush them away with plenty of water. We use a stainless steel teapot, but most china or crockery pots will do a fine job as well. You do need to find a teapot that won't dribble when you pour. Give your pot a rinse, but never scrub the inside. A teapot "learns" how to make good tea, and part of the learning process is the build up of tea that forms inside. Rule Number Four: Warm the pot. If you've used hot water to fill the kettle, give the pot a swish with hot water from the tap, otherwise pour a little of your boiling water in. Don't let the pot get cold again: leave the hot water in the pot until the kettle has nearly boiled, then tip it out.

Rule Number Five: Add your tea leaves to the warmed teapot. The amount of tea to use can only be ascertained by trial and error. The old adage of "one for each cup and one for the pot" will make your tea far too strong. We use a tea-serving spoon (as distinct from a teaspoon). A heaped spoonful holds about a level tablespoon's worth of tea, or three level teaspoons, and is just the right amount for our pot, which holds enough for three decent sized mugs of tea.

With any luck your kettle is just coming to the boil. Rule Number Six: Wait until the water reaches a rolling boil, but no longer. Boiling for too long causes a decrease in hydrogen atoms and will dull the freshness of the water.

Another old adage says "bring the pot to the kettle, never the kettle to the pot". This is to ensure that the water is still boiling when it hits the tea leaves. Rule Number Seven: As soon as the water has reached OBP (Optimum Boiling Point), and while it is still bubbling, briskly pour it from a good height into your teapot. Fill the pot to the level required by the amount of leaves. The briskness and height of the pour will agitate the leaves and do away with the need for any further stirring. Put the top on the teapot straight away and cover the pot with a tea cosy, preferably one knitted by your grandma.

The hard work's done! Now comes the all-important brewing period. During this time the delicious flavours of the leaves are drawn out in the gently swirling waters. Rule Number Eight: From this point on, don't stir or otherwise disturb the tea in the pot. As the agitation from the pour diminishes, the leaves will settle to the bottom, along with the heavier, more acidic elements of the infusion. Let's leave them there.

The length of time of the brew is again best determined through trial and error. I would say a minimum of five minutes and a maximum of ten. Too short and your tea will be pale and insipid and you'll be tempted to stir the tea in order to force more body into it; too long and the tea will be too strong and dark, and taste acidic and overcooked.

There is always a little mystery about the brew. No matter how meticulous your preparation, you can never be sure exactly what's going to happen inside the pot. Outside temperature, nearby vibrations, the alignment of the planets, all seem to have subtle effects upon the tea. If you've followed all the rules though, you should now be able to pour into your cups a beautiful, smooth-flowing amber stream containing a minimum of leaves. The action of pouring the tea will further agitate the leaves and make the tea stronger, so your first cup should be for the person who prefers a weaker brew.

If the tea is too weak overall even though you've let the tea brew for a reasonable period, you can gently rock the pot back and forth to mix in some of those heavy elements without disturbing the leaves. If it's too strong you can attempt a rescue by adding more hot water to the pot, but you will severely compromise the flavour. The only true solution is to start again.

Sugar should not be necessary: if you feel you need sugar maybe you shouldn't be drinking tea. A crisp, dry biscuit or two is the perfect accompaniment, perhaps a digestive or wine biscuit. Dunking the biscuit should be encouraged, but be careful not to let the soggy biscuit drop into the tea. This will undo all your hard work.

There we have it! Once you have become a world-famous platinum-selling multi-millionaire record producer, I would appreciate acknowledgment of this article.