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His staff – management, estate managers, PA, PR – wince and tuck their tails between their legs. He rants about the label, about his own team, about the Rock Dust Light Star cover art ('I’ve had to spend 20-grand of my own money on a new photo shoot!

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'Just gotta stay off the vodka, drink plenty of water.’ Kay puts down his well-thumbed copy of Andrew Marr’s The Making of Modern Britain, greedily sucks down a final revivifying Marlboro Light, runs two jittery hands through his freshly shampooed thatch and gazes around his capacious suite with its views over Lake Geneva.

Passing the highly challenging pilot’s exam hoovered up all the energy and enthusiasm he used to apply to drug-taking and partying. Ten years ago I’d have had this packed out.”’ The ballroom at the Mandarin Oriental in London’s Knightsbridge is packed out. I’m happy to stay but I could up-tail and f--- off out.’ To Monaco?

The straw that broke the coke-camel’s back was his mother turning up for Christmas 2003 and he had 'eyes like golf balls’ and hadn’t slept for days. “You carry on like this you’re gonna lose everything.”’ But that was a long time ago. It’s three months after our Swiss rendezvous and tonight Jamiroquai, man and band, are performing in front of a gathering of music industry and media figures. 'Yeah, it has ’cause I’m gonna get 50 per cent [tax] in the pound next year. 'Well, the point is this: this stuff I hear on the television – people like Bob Crow, the RMT guy – “If it wasn’t for George Osborne and his millionaire friends.” Are you suggesting that everybody who’s a millionaire is a banker? Well, some of us are providing jobs – I employ about 35, 40 people when we go on tour and I’ve employed about 20 people non-stop for the past 12, 14 years. ’ One hour west of London, Red Kites wheel overhead.

Tonight, the man known to many as Jamiroquai is top of the bill at the Paléo Festival in Nyon. The promoters know that, if anyone can have 35,000 Swiss dancing on a hillside in the wee hours in unseasonably drizzly weather, it’s the Cat in the Hat. Album sales numbering 25 million and a healthy international touring profile have given him a fortune estimated last year at £35 million.

'This tour here is to set up the brass,’ he says of the band of musicians he’s leading on a short run of European festival dates, 'keep us on our toes, and, yeah, of course, after you’ve just spent half a million f----n’ quid making an album, you know what I mean, it does require you to cook the books a bit again, so that’s kinda the reason we’re out here.’ This breathless sentence, it will transpire, is typical Kay: fast, candid, matey, punchy. He doesn’t mean 'cook the books’, as in fiddle his finances. But that Buckinghamshire manor house, London pied-à-terre, Scottish Highlands bolt-hole, classic car portfolio, Robinson R44 chopper and millinery collection require serious fiscal upkeep.

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