Keith Richards, On Mick, Mortality, And "Me Mum"

GQ's Michael Hainey conducts a must-read interview with Keith Richards. It's juicy, for all the right reasons, and includes the following reporter's note:

(Excuse me, reader, but I’d be remiss if I did not interrupt here to tell you briefly about how Keith speaks. It’s not speaking, actually. Or at least not what you think of as speaking. It’s more of a slur-mumble. Words run together and then get coated in cigarette smoke and that thick accent. It makes you wish he provided his own subtitles. I mean, when I transcribed the tapes from this interview, I had to listen to each sentence maybe three times to decode it. Further complicating matters was the incessant ambient noise: the clatter of the ice cubes as he swirled his drink between sips. And then there’s the way he loops out his answers in, well, let’s say a uniquely…Keith way. You’ll see what I mean.)