Phil (who emigrated to Switzerland for the nightlife and outrageous cuckoo clocks, the utter madman) has a large collection of Alamo memorabilia, his favourite (and no, I'm not making this up) being a receipt signed by the fort's commander William Barret Travis for some cattle he purchased and were subsequently eaten during the siege. Phew!

Well, you can keep your Michael Jackson and his 'Elephant Man' skeleton or Jimmy Page and his extensive black magic memorabilia - this is truly collecting taken to the edge. He also has "hundreds" of cannonballs, some from the Alamo, some shot at him by music lovers over the last thirty years.

"Basically, now I've stopped being Phil Collins the singer. This has become what I do," he grinned, seeming to believe that he deserved some sort of medal for the nonce-sense comment. Sadly, his children have been forced into pretending to show interest in an event that wasn't particularly memorable at the time, and even less so 180 years later.

"My youngest two, they can identify Travis, Crockett and Santa Anna when they see their pictures."

Good to see they know their 'Miami Vice' characters then (though they must envy Phil's elder children who have the power to simply run away). There's great news for those who are fans of Phil Collins though - Britain has some of the most impressive mental health facilities in the world! And Phil is also creating worthy artistic work again (almost a hundred years after 'Sussudio') having narrated a thirteen-minute "Alamo diorama light and sound show". But what august museum might you have to visit to see this wondrous experience?

The gift shop at the Alamo, naturally. Keeping it real Phil, keeping it real. And keeping it interesting, that goes without saying.