When I was a practicing alcoholic, I was unbelievable. One side effect was immense suspicion: I'd come off tour like Inspector Clouseau on acid. 'Where's this cornflake come from? It wasn't here before.

My stay in Camp Betty was the longest I'd been without drink or drugs in my adult life. [...] At first, they put me in a room with a guy who owned a bowling alley, but he snored like an asthmatic horse, so I moved and ended up with a depressive mortician. [...] The mortician snored even louder than the bowling alley guy - he was like a moose with a tracheotomy.

In those days, if you wanted a new car or a holiday, you'd phone up the office and they'd send you some cash. You never had a bank account. I don't know anyone from the music business in the Seventies that it didn't happen to.

Randy [Rhoads] was laid to rest at a place called Mountain View Cemetery, where his grandparents were buried. I made a vow there and then to honour his death every year by sending flowers. Unlike most of my vows, I kept it. But I’ve never been back to his graveside. I’d like to go there again one day, before I finally join him on the other side.

L.A.'s not a good place to grow old.

Don't ask me, I don't know

At 18, if someone had said to me, "I think you should go to rehab and get cleaned up," I would have thought, "You're fucking mad."