I couldn't be a royal. It's like living in a supersonic goldfish bowl.

With my recovery programme, I have to do a daily inventory of how my day has been. I am terribly dyslexic and have attention deficit disorder, so I have to carry a tape recorder everywhere I go.

Somebody said to me this morning, 'To what do you attribute your longevity?' I don't know. I mean, I couldn't have planned my life out better. By all accounts I should be dead! The abuse I put my body through: the drugs, the alcohol, the lifestyle I've lived the last 30 years!

I remember one night in Memphis, I'd come out of a blackout, and I didn't know where I was. I'm feeling through the darkness - I was asleep in the middle of a freeway. I went up to this car in the darkness, and it was a cop car.

Sex isn't the priority anymore, now I'm 65. But it still goes on. I want it and she doesn't, same as ever.

Black illusion is all I ever see.

Voices in the darkness scream away my mental health, can I ask a question to help me save me from myself?