Monday Got up, had a bath. Thought that the water looked a dark colour - then realised I still had my aviator sunglasses on. Listened to the radio and felt a bit alienated. Wrote another concept album on video recorders as I realised I'd already done TV and radio. Had lunch and the postman turned up. A letter from mum reminding me that it's Uncle Bob's birthday next week. The power she still wields...will I never be free?? Beat my fists against the wall in anger and frustration for about 20 minutes. Decided to have a cup of tea. Milk had gone off. I detect the hand of David Gilmour in this. Tuesday Got up. Thought about the war and the market forces destroying the world for an hour or so. Felt a bit depressed so I decided to put on my black jeans, black T shirt, black casual jacket and aviators. Felt much better and decided to go out for some milk and card for Uncle Bob. Nearly got out the door before I realised I hadn't rolled up the sleeves of my casual jacket!! Narrow escape there. Wednesday Got up, suddenly realised that my father was dead and that no-one understood my alienation as a musical genius. Burnt down the new conservatory in an angst ridden rage. Man next door tried to engage me in conversation about someone called "Gazza" before I torched his too. He is a pleb and I am an artist. He was leaning on the fence watching me. I feel there might be a large scale concept piece in this about the gulf between the artsists and the philistine masses. Couldn't think of a physical symbol to hang the work around and snagged my casual jacket on a nail sticking out of the fence. Asked the pleb if he had seen a man answering David Gilmours description hammering the nail in but he'd obviously paid the pleb off. Thursday Got up, message from Dave on the ansaphone asking me to get back together with the band again. Rang Eric Clapton and asked him to send Dave's wife some flowers thanking her for the wonderful nights they spent together. That should fuck him up. Felt so good I came up with a great lateral thinking idea on the new album - The Fence!! I could stage it at the whitehouse, or even the moon!! Thought I should probably play myself, but who for Mum and Uncle Bob?? Sinead? Van? Madonna? Phoned Bob Geldof to see if he wanted to get involved. He told me to "fook off". Felt bad, nearly wrote another album but decided to forgive Bob and went round to join him and we both beat our fists against the wall for a couple of hours. Friday Got up, then went back to bed as I couldn't face the day - can't anyone else see our lives are revolving around TV?? For god's sake, it should be my musical genius it revolves around!! Mum rang at night to see if I was OK. She came round with some chicken soup - I didn't eat it as it might have those mind controlling drugs in it but at least she got my other black casual jackets back from the dry cleaners. When will this woman stop controlling my life!! Saturday Rang Sinead. Apparently she has to tidy her room for the forseeable future. Van rang, but it was difficult to tell wether he was interested or not as there was so much background noise - all bottles clinking and horseracing. Madonna didn't ring back. I detect the hand of David Gilmour in this. Sunday Project in tatters. Postman came and the first letter was my royalties from Pink Floyds latest tour. I'm sure it's ã1 short. Letter from mum - Uncle Bob was killed by a bus yesterday. I feel a large scale concept album about the perils of public transport in a monopolistic state coming on. Finished it in time to watch MTV before bed. Saw David Gilmour dancing with Madonna!!! I detect the hand of my mother in this!! Monday Got up. Had a bath. Doctor came round - said they would have to operate to remove my sunglasses. Decided to give it a miss - after all, I've never seen Dave Gilmour in shades. Postman arrived with my 55 volume box video set of the first world war. Couldn't see my dad in it, but there was a guy who looked like him. The bleeding hearts came round in the afternoon - apparently Snowy has started taking lessons from Dave himself. We jammed for a bit until someone pointed out I couldn't sing. Threw them all out in a huff. Tuesday Meeting with the guys at Sony. Apparently they are objecting to my new 3 CD concept album roughly entitled "Record companies screw the life out of creative geniuses worse than Maggie Thatcher did to the miners". Philistines. They calmed down a bit when they realised it wouldn't be out for another three years by which time the concept would have changed beyond all recognition anyway. Talked about poor album sales. This one had better be good they said, get some good guitarists. They suggested Dave Gilmour - I suggested they fuck off. Journalist phoend to ask when I would tour next. Told him as soon as Hades drops below 0 degrees and it's moisture crystalises in to a solid - or if more than a few hundred people buy tickets. He didn't understand the first part but I think he got the message. Wednesday Phoned Eric Clapton - but his mum said he can't come out to play with me anymore as I depress him. Talked to her about the war for a bit till she hung up. Mothers - they're all the same. Went in the studio and met some guy called Steve Vai - apparently he plays guitar. Asked him to put some stuff over my demos but he just warmed up for an hour, asked if it was OK and left. Dave and the guys were in the studio next door and sent through a demo they were working on to see if I would put some lyrics on it. I did, it went like this - "Fuck off Dave Gilmour And the rest of you too Keep your sodding ferraris Your mums smell like poo You got the floyd name but I know your game It's all metaphysics And I write better lyrics" Not my best work but I thougt it appropriate under the circumstances. Phoned my lawyer and asked him to phone Dave's lawyer and say that Dave was a wanker. And anyway, didn't I get a restraining order?? Thursday New album going well - should be finished in about 40 odd remixes and several title changes. Did some more work on the opera. Finally found the kind of music for me - you don't need to sing!! You get a big fat woman to do it for you. At least it makes a change from Paul Carrack. Sinead came round for a while and we both moaned about how hard it was to be misunderstood artistic genuis's. She asked if she could do a bit for the new album - said we'd already got someone to make the sandwiches. Friday Dave phoned again. Apparently he wants to borow my casual jacket. Couldn't find one without the sleeves rolled up so I bought a brand new one. It was worth it after I'd sewn some prawns into the lining and filled the collar with itching powder. Saw Dave later wearing it on Top Of The Pops - he's not playing as well as he used to!! Mum came tound and asked me if I wanted to go to dinner with her and the wife. You mean I'm married?? Saturday Phoned the Ministry Of Defence again and asked them why my dad had to die in the war. Got standard reply from snotty receptionist - "because he was shot through the head by a german, Mr Waters". Typical. Wrote a song about the snooty girl called "I send people off to die and I don't care (Potzdamer Mix)". Had lunch with my manager. Apparently the Floyd are to be honoured at some big awards and Dave and the boys are going. Said I would go for a laugh. Phoned the wife to see if she wanted to go but she said Dave had already invited her. Bugger. Sunday Drove by Daves house at 3.00 in the morning playing the Final Cut really loud - Dave came out and threw a guitar at me. Said it was the best thing he'd done with a guitar since The Wall. Drove off really quick after he threatened not to sing any more songs I had the rights to. Decided not to go to the awards - sent a Gerald Scarfe cartoon of myself instead. MTV vj said that they nearly didn't recognise me without the casual jacket & shades but I certainly has more charisma than usual. Got really depressed and decided to sell the pics of Dave shagging Kat Bush to the News Of The World. Now that's what I call a discovery!! More?? Or is it all getting just a bit tedious??