I feel pretty good. I've just had one of those moments where I realise, "hang on, I feel pretty good. Healthy even. I might start swimming at last, stay off the gargle. Start a course. Write the book. Make some serious bank."
"Tour the book. See the world. Call Pat Kenny an automaton on the Late Late Show. Write the difficult second novel. It's gonna be about difficult second novels. See it adapted for the screen by Charlie Kaufman. Start dabbling in substances.
"Squander my cash. Start giving V signs to photographers. Write a third novel and get panned. Enter rehab. Escape. Go back to rehab. Write a short story about rehab. See it hailed as a return to form. Write third novel. Stay clean. Stay sober. Marry a lap dancer called Crystal. Attempt concept album. Divorce Crystal (who has changed her name to Celine to gain credit in her burgeoning pop career)...
"Concept album tops concept album charts. Write first autobiography. Marry for a second time. Move to the South Of France. Celebrate 40th birthday. Fall off the wagon. Get back on the wagon. Fall off the wagon. Get back on the wagon.
"Write second autobiography.
"Do the talk show circuit. Have pellets placed in my stomach that make me vomit blood every time I drink. Become a patron for a younger writer, telling him not to make the same mistakes I did. Watch my charge make the same mistakes I did.
"Do a compilation album of my favourite artists and see it hit top spot. Buy a small Greek island. Write third (and penultimate) autobiography - 'The Bitterness Years' - Have first child at the age of 49. Return to fiction writing. Get panned. Lose a fortune on the stock market. Notice how my accountant (a lifelong friend by the name of **** ******) has bled me dry.
"Sell Greek island. Divorce second wife. She gets the kid. Write final autobiography - 'Is there no end to the bitterness years?' - Get panned. Die in mysterious circumstances. Hailed as legend."
Yeah, that would do me. I feel pretty good.