I still feel about 22. I don't understand, actually. I mean, as I got older, I thought there would be things like, 'I need a house now', 'I need kids', 'I need a licence to drive', but I have never really had that happen. I guess that forms part of my appeal for the people who like the stuff I do: I'm not a real person - I'm a gypsy.
I've got a beautiful kitchen, which looks like a '60s version of space, with silver chrome, orange glass work surfaces, and brown leather, and it's entirely visual and has little function. I've hardly got any knives, and there's only one wooden spoon and one saucepan. But I think I've got a cheese grater, so that's good.
When we went to America, Robin Williams came to the gig, and Mike Myers had lunch with us and wanted to write a film for us. We're idiots - we turned it down. I think we were just sick of each other at that point. When you get famous, it takes some time to realise it isn't going to be good.