I’d like to see all my friends. I would have my breakfast and then I would go to Ireland and see my friends – Frank McGuinness, Penny and Desmond Guinness…all those people. I would have lunch in the castle with Penny and Desmond and maybe some other people, then in the afternoon I would go to New York and do the same thing.

It would be too late to write my autobiography. I guess I would drink coffee and talk with my friends. Hopefully we could do some jamming as well that would be recorded. I think it would be quite an emotional moment. I would definitely be playing flute. Flute is the instrument of death in a way.

I would probably want to cook a decent turkey. Whether it was my mother or my sister, growing up in a matriarchal family in America, they always cooked the best turkeys and kinda ruled my life that way, so I would like one crack at it. I’d put a turkey in the oven, and that would give me a good five hours to do some other stuff.

I would stop working out right away. I wouldn’t lift another weight, I wouldn’t run another mile. I would sit on my ass and eat as many cookies as I could find.

Dying of the same awful disease that took my mother – a particularly aggressive form of dementia called Pick’s disease.

I don’t care if I am remembered or not.

Climate change. That is the single most important calamity in the making that I obsess over.

Myself. I have never been harder on anyone else.

Greta Thunberg, a brightly coloured little bird in a coalmine, desperately sounding the alarm for others while laying her childhood to waste.

It was such a beautiful summer’s night and I had pink hair and my band was doing really well and my mum was there, my mum was still alive. It was very magical for me and to get the honour of my city, to be blessed by their respect, it was delicious.