A HAT TRICK OF GONGS

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One day I'll have the hit I deserve and surrounded by beautiful girls, I will milk the applause at the music awards, I'll crack a few jokes and bang out some chords. And pick up a hat trick of gongs, for my sensitive heartbreaking songs. I'll dedicate my win to the bands you're all in, and from Wolfpack of One to Helen and Jim.

And then I'll go drinking with Sting. We'll stay up all night (not unusual for him). I'll laugh at the names that he's got in his phone, and wonder if Kravitz and Bono are home, and want to help out with this wine. It was a gift from the King of some African tribe. It tastes like the devil and makes you see ghosts, it raises the spirits while Sting raises a toast.

To my hundreds and thousands of fans, who bought tickets and t-shirts supporting the band: Who claim they saw me in provincial towns, long before my eponymous debut came out, and thought I was much bettter then, when my MySpace account didn't have any friends, when I was third on the bill to some dude in a skirt and only did songs about girls from my work, before the drink, the drugs and the money took hold, when I used to be funny, and wasn't just old.

Well I tried to revive my career on national TV. I did Celebrity Pig-Fuck on ITV3. With a disgraced politician that nobody knew, a blonde girl from Hollyoaks and Duncan from Blue. When I was evicted, they asked, "Where did it all go wrong?" I said, "Duncan from Blue, when I picked up a hat trick of gongs. A hat trick of gongs."