Book all the headliners that I’ve never managed to book for Bestival, for future Bestivals that my children will run after I die. Kate Bush, Prince, Dolly Parton, David Bowie – maybe throw Iron Maiden in there for a bit of a laugh. I’d get on the mobile and stroll around outside and do some deals. Maybe get some of these hard-arse agents to give me a bit of a discount as I’m dying.

I’d need instant satellite communication on my website and a camera. The achievement now would be to channel the last songs before I drop the body. If I was healthy and not ill I would like to spend the hours composing on camera online with as many people that wanted to experience the last day of song writing.

My house by the sea to the sound of ropes pinging against boat masts and gulls on the roof. Instant coffee, white toast and watching The Wright Stuff in bed. It’s my last day! If I haven’t done it yet I don’t want to cram it all in now.

Primping mostly. It’s Sophia Loren! So I would clean up a bit and the first thing I would check are my toenails. I would have a full shave and make sure I had moisturised everywhere. Of course I’d make sure I smell nice too, but not overly perfumed. I think after cleaning and steaming and bathing and primping, I would like to do a bit of exercise – or maybe the steam bath would be enough – to bring out my natural body odour, that fresh, manly scent.

Billie Holiday said on her tombstone she'd like to have written 'This drink's on me.' You know how people go to Jim Morrison's grave and sit there and have drinks? So it's literally that drink is on you. I think that's a good one. Or I'd say, 'Just sleeping. I'll be back.'