In what looks like a calculated attempt to try and reposition himself, James Blunt is telling anyone who'll listen that his new album was written "coming down after raving in Ibiza."
Sharing a growing sense of depression and a terrible headache, then.
Blunty also has a dream:
Chances are, no, James. Not because he's so very dead, but more because can you really see Hendrix covering your supermarket tannoy slop?