Hobbies – Mostly child-rearing, deep sea macramé and extreme ceramics. Shouting at the telly is another fave pastime and shouting in general is an omnipresent part of daily life. Fishing is a pointless joy but, to be straight, I’m way too busy writing the summer hits of 2010 to give a hoot about much else.

Cars - Don’t have one and never really envied anybody’s ‘fly whip’ aside from Caractacus Potts in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Michael Knight’s funky little K.I.T.T car.

Fitness/Health - Used to run quite a lot but found it dangerous as the tedium would sometimes overwhelm me to the point of sleep. I would occasionally wake up, jogging through central London at 4 in the morning after nodding off some eight hours earlier in Brighton. It cost me a fortune in train fares and therapy, so sacked it off in favour of ‘jacking my body to the sound of the underground’ (or summat). I used to ride a BMX in the eighties and do various ‘tricks and stunts’ on it. I like food, a lot and anything that comes out of my kitchen is bona fide delicious, I can do staples like chilli, lasagne and roasts, but also push the envelope a bit and make a killer quiche. While that’s not the usual confession of a dj/artist, I think it was Joe Strummer that once said “with a guitar and words you can start a revolution, but give a man a ready-made short crust pastry, and that’s half the battle won”. Believe.

Sport - The worlds least competitive man - ever. Football’s a complete joke and Rugby’s like a pantomime with all it’s fake blood and whatnot. What a load of guff. I watched this guy break the High Diving world record on Youtube yesterday, that was pretty cool – His name was Dana Kunze, which is double cool but that happened in 1986.

Video Games - Financial restrains have meant that I’ve missed out on the next generation consoles, having said that I used to enjoy nothing more than shooting virtual Aliens/Eastern European Terrorists/Cowboys and Zombies right in their stupid faces using an array of increasingly complicated weaponry. The Iphone (an upgrade hand-me-down from a good friend) is enough to sate my gaming needs nowadays but look forward to blowing the teeth out of a whole bunch of 3d idiots in the near future. Guitar Hero is good too, but I figure it’s probably more beneficial for folks to buy a real guitar and get on with actually saving the world through song than pretending to.

Smutty – Ain’t no smutty stories over here I’m afraid. I’ve never felt the need to slip into some pathetic lothario/misogynist/idiot role, I’m incredibly happy with my ten year relationship and five year old daughter and not nearly daft enough to jeopardise all that for a nudey roll around with a complete stranger. Also, the audience are your mates not something to take advantage of, no matter how much they go for that distorted perception that you’re in some way superior. We’re all in it together, so I’m not about to dive into the crowd, c*ck in hand, to live out some cheap thrill that Led Zeppelin did so much better way back when you could drag women around by their hair without recrimination. There’s much more interesting dialogue to be had in clubs anyhow...read on.

I had an argument with celebrity telly chef and all round b*llend, Aldo Zilli on NYE this year (I don’t know if you guys are aware of this doofus, but he’s relatively big over here, well ,more like a tumor on the face of British TV Cheffery, I suppose) . He insisted that I stop playing jacking/bassline/electro/Baltimore/house and stick some Abba on...Unfortunately for him, I don’t carry any Abba which really made his p*ss boil and it all ended in a flurry of curse words. Ah boo boo. In the unlikely situation that this happens to you, I’d recommend you never let on that you recognise the offending celeb, as doing this will:

a. Completely disarm them so they’ll get all ‘playground’ on your ass, which is just good game and hellafunny.

b. Make you look like you’ve got your head jammed further up your arse than they have and therefore you take the higher ground in the ego stakes. Win!

I was a bit annoyed at myself for not pulling out the ‘I don’t tell you how to cook, so don’t tell me how to DJ’ line, but that’s what hindsight is for and look forward to using a similar quip in future.

After a recent gig in Brighton a very nervous looking dude came up to tell me him and his girl were big fans and been into my stuff for a while and love the album etc. Turns out he was waiting all night for me to drop ‘Under The Sun’ so that, on bended knee he would propose. She said yes, which is a relief for me professionally, but I did suggest he wasn’t so hasty to go through with the wedding as loads of people I know have split up this year and I think it’s catching.

Fashion – My general line is that I look like a 65 year old man in the wardrobe of a 19 year old tw*t, having said that, I’ve managed to up my game in recent years thanks to internet shopping. Being 6’6” and a size 13(uk) shoe, I find it hard to get clothes that fit but thankfully America comprises of much bigger humans than over here and I can now get tees that not only fit, but look OK and sneakers that give me that faux-sports look, like I go running and work out a lot. There are a few staples like Nike Air Max Lights – the finest of all Nikes in my opinion, not least for their comfort, colour palette and use of materials and hats (various) all Kangol, from Lahinch wool caps to bucket hats for summer. I don’t do ‘cool’ as it doesn’t tangibly exist and if you begin to subscribe to what is and isn’t cool you’ll end up chasing your tail. It’s a one-way street, you might love ‘cool’ but ‘cool’ don’t love you...it’s way too cool for that.