'It's for you, Ian.' 'Oh good.'

I was playing pool in a pub and this guy came across and said "Are you Ian Gillan?"

"Yeah, that's me," I replied, trying to concentrate on my shot.

"Nah..." he said and walked away to rejoin his mates.

This caused much amusement to my friends. A few minutes later he came across again.

"Are you really Ian Gillan?"

Attempting to shrug off the first twinges of self-doubt, I politely replied in the affirmative, but he wouldn't have it and drifted off shaking his head. It wasn't long before he was standing by me again and, as he opened his mouth to speak, I said, very quietly, "fuck off".

"Wow" he whispered, happy at last, "you really are Ian Gillan".

My phone rings. 'Hello?'

'Meester Geelan, what are you doing?

'Who is this?'

'Yes'

'Oh really.'

'What are you doing?'

'I'm having oral sex with an ostrich.'

'What?'

'Yes.'

'When are you going to the university?'

'Probably around 7.15.'

'Ok, thank you.'

'The pleasure is all mine.'

'Goodbye'.

'Goodbye'. My phone rings. 'Hello?'

'Hi Ian, how's it going?'

'Who's this?'

'George - remember me?'

'Ah, George, of course, how are you?' (I haven't got a clue who George is).

'Can I come to your room?'

'What on earth for?'

'To talk man.'

'I'm afraid I'm busy.'

'What you doin'?'

'Writing.'

'Writing what man?'

'Who is this?'

It's George man, remember me?'

'Er, no.'

'Yeah man, you know, we partied last time, yeah?'

'You must be confusing me with an American, my American friends party all the time.'

'What?'

'I said you must be confused.'

'Can I come to your room?'

'F**k off George.' That's enough of phone calls.

"Are you just doing it for the money?" is an interesting line of rhetoric that seems to require a jumble of justifications which serve only to magnify the sneer on the face of the questioner.

Now, if I was a merchant banker or a professional gambler I'd be hard put to deny it, but I do get pangs of unreasonable guilt when I try to defend my position, because it is really my integrity which is being questioned.

There is no doubt that large amounts of money are paid when things are going well, but that money drops off in catastrophic disproportion to outgoings when I fall out of favour ... a regular occurence.
It's nice when I get a big pay-day but I don't make decisions based on the size of the cheque and I have turned down some pretty huge offers over the years. I'm writing this in the first person because everyone has different ideas about income and expenditure but, I must say that Deep Purple has a traditionally sound position in this area.

I think I understand the value of money, as a currency, but I have absolutely no idea of its worth as a commodity. This is what happens to my money... 72.5% goes on commission (32.5%) and tax (40%). 27% goes in fees to accountants and lawyers, mortgage payments, two cars, household and family expenses etc. The remaining 0.5% I spend on booze and wild living.

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