If you had only one day left to live, how would you spend it — and what would you deliberately avoid doing?

I would go and record a bunch of stuff. I would just go and record every single idea that I have in my head and have Pat (Gemayel, bandmate) finish them, giving him very strict guidelines, which is what I do anyway. This is so we can have a couple of albums out after I’ve passed away, Tupac style.

I’d like to be dancing the night away, making love and listening to music. All done with the most amazing bag of weed you can possibly imagine so my last joint is perfect.

I’d sit and listen to albums end to end. I’d listen ‘S. F. Sorrow’ by The Pretty Things, then ‘Endtroducing’ by DJ Shadow. Just before I die, the last thing I’d listen to would be ‘Come On Eileen’ by Dexy’s Midnight Runners. Imagine dancing to that and dying right at the end of it. My missus would film it and it would be on YouTube. I’d still be warm and people will be watching it.

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.

It would definitely involve lots of sex. I would spend the afternoon having some crazy passionate declarative sex with my husband.

Maybe I would want to spend time with my child, but there are more things I want to do, so let’s hold on that. I would like to get moderately drunk walking around in a city with all my friends. I would like to be surprised by who shows up. We’d drink beer and liquor, maybe some red wine too. We’d be mixing everything, and there’d be no hangover the next day anyway!

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.

I would still be at home. I wouldn’t want to travel anywhere because the roads would be chaos.

I would obviously be in a good place chemically, the synapses would be content. I would play with my kids. I don’t think I would have time to watch anything by Ingmar Bergman. Bergman would suddenly feel like not that good a director if I only had a few hours.

I enjoy writing songs at home, so I would like to record an album on my last day. It would probably be a fairly melancholy, stripped-down record with just me and my guitar.

This is so heavy. If I’m never going to see my kids and husband again, it’s to let them know how giantly, massively and crazily I love them. Every ounce of me loves them so deeply, it makes me cry.

An extremely large amount of partying. Just the hardest partying anyone has ever done, ever. Going out in a blaze of burning party fireball glory. Beaming, streaming, and teaming waves of wonder and pleasure crashing over me in euphoric surges of glorious oblivion.

I’d run it like every day: have something good to eat, make sure my body’s feeling good, and then when it’s time to go I’d head to the spa and just be massaged into death.