Life by the sea was good. I’d wake up at six, every morning before school, go for a walk with my old friend Harry (who’s since passed away) and come back to Mahler’s Adagio for Strings and a bacon sandwich with home-made bread. Although Harry didn’t talk much he taught me a lot, including that there’s no music without silence. It was only when he wouldn’t stop barking at me to throw the stick that I found his company irritating.

At seventeen I went to Brunel University to do a two-year music course. The day I was awarded a grant, I took my mates to the pub. We got trousered on Black Russians. I knicked Laz’s bike and had a head on collision with another Charlie. I still have the scar and a chipped front tooth.

Although things started to look good for the band I had begun to sink into a shadow, disillusioned and dissatisfied. For my twenty first birthday I needed to be alone and regain the inner powers, so I went to India, learnt Tabla, and got busy one time with an Israeli chick. Returning to Gotham City, I left the band to save the world from poverty – my poverty.

Just before forming Ruby Kane I had rescued a poor little guitar and took it under my wing. Over the years, it kept coming to me for a strum and, being the dappy super-hero type, I often gave in. It’s true what they say – 'a guitar is not just for Christmas'.