It started with a bottle of wine in front of the cricket and ended with acute pancreatitis. In an astonishingly frank interview, the singer talks for the first time about his battle with booze, why he won’t rejoin Genesis... and how he got dumped by Adele

‘I didn’t go around rolling drunk. But I just started to drink. I used to get up and I’d start drinking and watch the cricket. Red wine, white wine. And before long…’ said Phil Collins

The first knew he was in trouble when he found himself slipping into a dangerous new routine at home in Geneva.

Bored, bandless and missing his young children, who had moved to America with his ex-wife, the British legend who, for many, defined Eighties pop on both sides of the Atlantic, turned to the bottle for company.

‘I didn’t go around rolling drunk. But I just started to drink,’ Phil Collins is telling me calmly in a New York hotel suite.

‘I used to get up and I’d start drinking and watch the cricket. Red wine, white wine. And before long…’

His slide into serious drinking surprised his friends. After all, Collins had survived over 40 years in rock without succumbing to the temptations that had sunk many of his peers.

‘People who know me know that I never went down that road – I was always too sensible. Nevertheless, I got sick.’

Phil in his garden in Switzerland with a musket that once belonged to Alamo hero Davy Crockett, one of four from his collection which he has donated to the battle museum

As honest as his hits were catchy (count ’em: that’s three UK No 1s and seven in the U.S., with total record sales of 150 million), the solo superstar and Genesis front man is here to set the record straight with Event about all sorts of rumours and myths surrounding his life – the alleged ‘divorce by fax’, his health problems, writing songs with Adele, his relationship with his children, including the budding film star Lily, the Genesis reunion – and to do it all with a smile.

Collins is also ready to cheerfully concede that, as Eighties pop stars go, his in-your-face ubiquity was intensely annoying.

‘I do apologise!’ the winner of six Brits, seven Grammys, two Golden Globes and one Oscar laughs. But before we get to any of that…

How bad did the drinking get?

‘I nearly died.

‘I had pancreatitis. What happened was, I’d retired to be with the kids,’ Collins begins, telling the full story of his scrape with death for the first time.

The 63-year-old divorced his third wife, Swiss translator Orianne Cevey, in 2008; they had two sons, Nick, now 13, and Matt, nine.

And so after the release of his 2010 album Going Back, a collection of Motown covers, Collins had hung up his drumsticks and switched off the microphone, ready to embrace a well-earned retirement.

Genesis in the Seventies (l-r, Phil, Mike Rutherford, Tony Banks, Steve Hackett and Peter Gabriel), and, below, reunited for a new BBC2 documentary

Together And Apart tells the full story of the prog-rock giants who formed at Surrey’s Charterhouse school in 1967 and went on to sell 130 million albums worldwide, before Phil left in 1996

‘We had a fantastic little set-up. I was living in Switzerland, ten minutes away from the kids.

'Used to pick ’em up all the time, used to go round for dinner with the ex-wife,’ he explains in his no-nonsense speaking style.

He might be a millionaire with a fortune estimated at £115 million, but Collins still talks like the London geezer he was when he joined Genesis aged 19 – a time-served muso livewire in a band full of cloistered public schoolboys.

‘And she’d remarried, which was fine. We got on, me and the husband. But he didn’t like Switzerland, so they moved to Miami.

‘And, really, retiring – well, not working – and not having the kids, I guess left a big void.’

Was he an alcoholic?

‘Well, I was supposed to be an alcoholic,’ he says. ‘I went to meetings, and I did try rehab – for a week! But I just couldn’t stand it. It was like being in a boarding school.

Phil with his second wife Jill Tavelman and new-born daughter Lily

'So I said to myself, “I know what I need to do; I’m not a f****** alcoholic.”

‘I was taking medication for this…’ Collins flexes his left hand and arm. A left-hander, the drummer has severe tendon problems, the legacy of 50 years pounding the skins.

‘And for all kinds of different little things,’ he adds. The prescription drugs ‘were not mixing with the drink, basically.

‘The kids were getting a little bit worried, and that’s what made me worried.

'Anyway, one thing led to another and I found myself a great doctor here in America, and I went to a couple of specialists. And I don’t drink any more,’ he shrugs.

‘And I’ve never fallen off the wagon. I’ve just been lucky.’

Pancreatitis is an inflammation of the pancreas.

In severe cases, as with Collins, it causes extreme pain, internal bleeding and vomiting, and can lead to diabetes or pancreatic cancer.

Alcohol is the most common cause. Collins says he is long past the worst of it – but he’s still on the medication, ‘although it’s all scaled down’.

He dismisses the idea that he remains afflicted by demons. The alcoholism was temporary, he says.

‘I put it down to just having a lot of time on my hands. And also the lifestyle on the road – for some people, not all – was, for me, very strict. ’Cos I had to sing every night, so I never drank till after the show.’

We see something of Collins’s life on tour in a brilliant new BBC documentary about Genesis.

Together And Apart tells the full story of the prog-rock giants who formed at Surrey’s Charterhouse school in 1967 and went on to sell 130 million albums worldwide, before Collins left in 1996.

It marks the first time all five key members of the band (Collins, guitarist Mike Rutherford, keyboard player Tony Banks, guitarist Steve Hackett and singer Peter Gabriel, whom Collins replaced as singer) have been interviewed together since Gabriel left in 1975, and this meeting has sparked speculation that it might lead to a proper musical reunion (there was a tour in 2007). Collins will dutifully address these rumours later in our conversation.

The documentary – which is accompanied by a new three-CD compilation that gathers the best of Genesis, with highlights from the band members’ solo careers – opens with the chanting of a rapturous Genesis audience of 50,000 at Helsinki’s Olympic stadium in 2007.

Footage shows Collins larking about backstage beforehand. His energy fizzes off the screen. He says that, as the front man, he had to work to maintain that.

On daughter Lily, a successful model and actress: 'The world is at her feet, it seems,' he said

‘But without any of that – I mean...’ he smiles as he recalls his life as an expat, retired rock star nursing a creeping drink problem in his home overlooking Lake Geneva.

‘I remember thinking, “Oh, there’s cricket on today, I’ll open a bottle of white wine…”

'In rehab I did go along with the “hello, my name’s Phil and I’m an alcoholic,” because that’s what I was there for.

'But I never really thought it myself. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been so easy to stop.

‘But I understand that most environments that we’re placed in nowadays, if you don’t drink, people say, “Oh, what’s the matter with him?” It’s like you’re a wuss. And we did things about how to deal with that in rehab, in the week that I was there.

‘But I haven’t drunk now for a year-and-a-half, a year-and-three-quarters. And I don’t find it a problem, frankly.

‘So I went along with the rehab thing – and you can call me whatever you want to call me. But I know what I am.’

What Collins is in 2014 is a resting musician occasionally tempted out of his retirement by the odd musical project.

But when the biggest female singing star of the day came calling, however, it was a different story. I ask him about the rumour that Adele had asked him to write songs with her.

The man who penned such massive hits as In The Air Tonight, Sussudio, Against All Odds and umpteen other anthems reveals that indeed she did, and then goes on to tell the remarkable story of their musical dalliance.

‘It was a strange thing. I met her in London, almost a year ago. And she had got in touch, saying, “I’d like to write with you…” And I said, “Yeah, OK.” I mean, I didn’t really know Adele. I do not keep up with what’s going on.’

Really? Collins might live half the time in mountain seclusion in Switzerland, and the rest of the time either in his fancy Manhattan apartment – his girlfriend is New York TV news anchor Dana Tyler – or in a Miami hotel near his youngest children.

But surely the rise of the woman who sold 30 million copies of 2011’s 19 couldn’t have escaped his notice?

‘I missed Adele,’ he admits with a rueful grin. ‘It was probably being… put away for drink, for a little while,’ he shrugs playfully. ‘I had a lost six months, I guess.’

Anyway, ‘Adele had got hold of me and wanted to write music with me. And I was in London, so she came to my hotel. We met for about an hour.

'And she played me a piece of music, and said: “What do you think?” I felt a bit on the spot and said: “I’ve got to listen to it a couple more times.”

'Actually I had listened to it a few times after she’d sent it to me, and it was great. Her idea was for me to finish it off. There were a few lyrics.

‘But I found her a little elusive. First of all, after we’d met, I didn’t hear from her for a little while.

'And I thought I’d failed the audition – which is fair enough. You need to see if you’re compatible.

'She’s young, I’m 63. It could have been that, and any one of another hundred things.

‘But she said: “Oh no, no, no, no, no, I love what you do, I really want to do it…” So I thought, “OK, well, she’s very keen, and she’s very sweet.”

'So I just did nothing else but think about this piece of music for a few weeks. But I didn’t really hear from her.

'I eventually emailed her back – I didn’t have a phone number – and I said: “Are you waiting for me, or am I waiting for you?” And she said: “Well, actually, I’m not writing at the moment – I’m moving house.” And she’d got the new baby. So that was the end of it.

Phil enjoyed three UK No 1s and seven in the U.S., with total record sales of 150 million

‘And now I gather there’s 25 coming out, another album. So we never did anything. We didn’t fall out – we never fell in!’ he laughs.

‘But she was a very nice lady. And she’s certainly talented, and this piece of music, maybe I’ll hear it on the record. I’ve still got it and I don’t know if she’s used it. So it was a bit of a non-starter. Everybody got very excited about it, but…’

Collins shrugs. His business associates might have been thrilled at the prospect of their man getting back in the pop saddle – especially with an artist of Adele’s stature. But these days this father-of-five’s priorities very much lie at home.

Still, he has recently toyed with a mini-comeback. During his last trip to see Matt and Nick in Miami he rehearsed with his live band. Jason Bonham, son of legendary Led Zeppelin sticksman John, played drums.

‘It was great, but I don’t know if we’ll do anything. My voice…’ he says, tugging at his throat with a wince. ‘I haven’t sung really since 2007, so it’s a bit out of shape.

‘And frankly I’ve got a little groove going – going down to Miami every couple of weeks to see the kids. It’s very important to me.

'I’ve missed a lot of stuff with my three older kids. And I find that I’m involved in my younger kids’ lives a lot more.’

Collins’s oldest son is Simon, 38, whose mother is Collins’s first wife, Andrea Bertorelli. He’s a musician too, and in July he was arrested in Wiltshire on drugs charges.

When I spoke to Collins at his Swiss home in 2010, he told me that Simon had been through ‘some very rough times’.

Does Collins feel guilty about not being around for him more in his formative years?

‘Of course,’ he shoots back.

‘Having been so present in Nick and Matt’s life, I realise, “Wow: my other kids didn’t have any of that.”

‘So yeah, I guess, there’s that…’ he says, playfully miming whipping his back in self-flagellation, ‘but who knows? A lot of it’s the chemistry of the people involved. Simon’s mother, my other half, has got her part to play in all that as well.’

Still, he concedes that following in his father’s footsteps has been rough for Simon – as it has been for Jason Bonham and James McCartney, both of whom have had issues with drugs.

‘I know that with Simon, for every door him being my son opens, it probably closes two. It’s as much a blessing as it is a curse.

‘But Joely’s surfaced fantastically well,’ he adds, referring to his other daughter with Bertorelli (actually his adopted stepdaughter) and Lily of course is doing really well too.’

‘Everything has its time. If everyone has 15 minutes of fame, I had a good couple of hours. I can’t really watch myself from that era... No wonder people were annoyed with me!’ Phil said

Lily Collins, 25, is his daughter with his second wife, Jill Tavelman. Born in Guildford but based in Los Angeles since she was five, she’s a successful model and actress.

Her breakthrough film was The Blind Side with Sandra Bullock, and last year she starred in the blockbuster These Mortal Instruments.

‘She’s finished a Warren Beatty film’, says the singer who enjoyed big film success himself in Buster, the 1988 film about the Great Train Robber Buster Edwards in which he appeared alongside Julie Walters, ‘and she’s still doing the modelling – she just sent me a couple of magazine covers that she did.

'So the world is at her feet, it seems. She came on holiday with me and the boys in August. And it was just like having my little girl with me.’

Will he get married again?

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. No. Not because I’ve been burnt or because I can’t afford to!’ he says.

Collins is rumoured to have paid out £42 million in alimony.

‘But I just… no, I’ve got enough. Mine is a very complicated life to negotiate through,’ he laughs. But, he adds, ‘I get on well with all of my ex-partners.’

I’ve no reason to doubt him, but Collins must have worked miracles to save his relationship with Lily’s mother after the infamous tabloid scandal in 1993 when The Sun ran a front-page story alleging that the singer had divorced Tavelman by fax. Collins tackles the hoary old rumour with calm reflection.

‘There were faxes. But did I fax for divorce? No. I was on the road and I remember being backstage in Frankfurt and the phone going down on me…

'Jill was not handling it very well, understandably. So I sent her a fax, and the one that surfaced in The Sun was the one I sent from Frankfurt, saying: “I’ve really had enough of this. I want to see my daughter. And I’m trying to organise seeing her.” But it was not a fax for a divorce.’

Nevertheless he admits that, ‘it was about the divorce, I suppose, because that was inferred in the words.

‘And now I get on with Jill very, very well. We’ve got a deep relationship, and I don’t want to ruin things by bringing it all up. But that was the moment when things changed.

'I went from being everybody’s loveable uncle next door to being vilified by a lot of people. That was the moment. But I just didn’t do it!’ he exclaims.

Collins is the son and grandson of Sun Alliance insurance salesmen. He says he’s always been careful with his money.

The 63-year-old divorced his third wife, Swiss translator Orianne Cevey, in 2008; they have two sons, Nick, now 13, and Matt, nine

But unlike his peer Sting – who told Event earlier this year that he and wife Trudie Styler were merrily spending their children’s inheritance – Collins says he will hand his kids a share of his fortune. Albeit not on a platter.

‘When they get to a certain age it will become theirs. So some have already passed that age. And others will get it when the time comes.

'I used to save everything for a rainy day – that was the way my mum and dad brought me up,.

‘So old habits die hard really. But on the other hand I’ll pay $200,000 for Jim Bowie’s sword from The Alamo!’ he hoots, referring to a passion for the famous 1836 battle at the Texas garrison that he’s nurtured since he was five.

Collins is now a world authority on the episode.

‘So that’s my vice. I’m spending it, but not crazily. So there’s gonna be more than enough for the kids.’

Living in Switzerland, Collins is frequently accused of being a tax exile. This, he says, is another myth.

He moved there at the end of the Nineties not for money but for love, specifically to be with his new Swiss wife. Nevertheless, I ask him if he keeps his tax affairs in order, and what he thinks of stars like Gary Barlow using tax shelter loopholes?

‘It’s about doing the right thing. I don’t want anything to come back and haunt me.

'When [my] accountants [suggest] new investment opportunities, I say: “I don’t want anything that’s risky. I don’t need more money, so don’t get me stuck into something that’s going to backfire on me.”’

Which brings us back to where it all started, with Genesis, who made him a rich, and then, once he’d embarked on a solo career, a widely ridiculed man in the first place. How does he look back now on his Eighties peak and the massive backlash that followed?

‘Everything has its time. If everyone has 15 minutes of fame, I had a good couple of hours. I can’t really watch myself from that era.

'There’s one YouTube clip of me on stage in 1985. And I’m running around like a dervish, and the introduction is very Steve Martin-esque…’

Collins now does a gibbering impersonation of himself impersonating the hyperactive comedian and actor.

‘And I can’t look at it! No wonder people were annoyed with me!’ he laughs. ‘And I do apologise!

‘I know how it looks – because I was apparently showing off all the way through the Eighties! But it wasn’t really me showing off. I was just wide-eyed and stupid,’ he admits. ‘“I’ll do that, I’ll play with you. Oh, yeah, I’ll try to act!’” he hoots, referring to his role in Buster.

Collins laughs and rubs his cheek. If he doesn’t need the money, or indeed relish the opprobrium then would he ever sign up to another Genesis reunion?

Phil with his current partner, New York TV news anchor Dana Tyler

Collins says he understands that the enthusiasm for it both from within the band itself and from their millions of fans, is intense.

Mike Rutherford seems the most keen, the guitarist saying recently that he’d ‘like it to be’, and even the famously forward-looking singer Peter Gabriel admitted that ‘no doors are closed’.

Is Collins up for it? He says he thoroughly enjoyed reuniting with his four former bandmates for the first time in four decades, both to choose the songs on the new compilation and to relive their high-flying Seventies.

Yes, Gabriel left Genesis, then Hackett departed, and then Collins himself left (Rutherford and Banks made one album with a stand-in singer, Ray Wilson). But old friendships die hard.

‘The whole thing has been great because we are mates,’ he says. ‘And it’s almost embarrassing to say so – it’s almost unhealthy to have five guys who do think the world of each other, still, after all this time. And you know, we still get on great.

'Yeah, I’m sure there are things about each other that annoy us. But it’s been quite an entertaining trip down memory lane.’

All that said: ‘I’m 63, soon be 64, and I joined Genesis when I was 19. So surely it’s clear to people that I may not want to do this? Or I may want to do something different?’ And that is all he will say on the matter. But it sounds like ‘no’.

'But nobody understands my life like I do. And that’s really the thing.

'I can’t bear to not see my kids for a couple of months if I’m going to go on tour. And my nine-year-old, I wonder what he thinks about when he puts the light off at night: “Another ten days before Dad comes…” I can’t imagine him saying: “Another two months. Dad’s on tour for two months.”’

Phil Collins is looking at me intently, and speaking quietly now.

‘I couldn’t handle that. And I don’t know if it’s guilt. I’ve got enough to be guilty about.

‘But I don’t need anything – I don’t need anything ego-wise for me that could possibly beat what I have with my kids.’