DIARY BONO

We do some mad shit together, the Dalai Lama and me.

Listening to the bald guy rap on, I begin to understand something very special about the meaning of life. Lammy taught me an important lesson and it is this: What, me worry?

Yes, that's a beautiful, beautiful sentiment, and one that I have attempted to convey in the lyrics of my new song, "Get Your Ass Off and Rock This Joint, Baby (Homage to Rwanda)."

You learn a lot about life from all sorts of different human beings. Put it this way, when I was last talking to Lammy, there was a knock on my door the other day and who should it be but the lovely Ben, an early U2 fan who's currently doing a truly great job as Pope. Loved the new album, he says, couldn't get enough of it, reminded him in a funny way of Buffalo Springfield in their mid-period, with a touch of Jefferson Airplane thrown in.

So we were rapping on—I told him I just loved that last Easter address of his—when there was another knock at the door. "Kofi!" I said, "Come in, me old mate! And would you be knowing Ben here, who's the Pope? And have you met our new rhythm guitarist, Gusset?" Two minutes later, who should walk in but this beautiful guy with a truly great sense of humor called George W. Bush, says he has a bit of time to spare, thought he'd just hang loose and generally chill for a while. You know, it's easy to underestimate W., but the guy rocks. At heart, he's just a cool cat, just like my main man Jesse Helms.

So we get to talking about the God and the Bible and everything. I say I always thought God must be a bit like Johnny Cash, but maybe not so old. "Johnny Cashr says Pope Benedict, excitedly. "I'm the guy's greatest fan!"

Listening to those wise men—Pope Ben and Kofi and W. and Lammy—rapping on, a pearl of wisdom descended upon me and made me feel very humbled. Two and two, I thought, don't make three. Two and two make four. And with that, I felt at peace. Tomorrow, I will text our business manager, Spam, to pass on the good news, but not until I've put a call through to Queen Elizabeth II ("Is that really you, Betty-Boo?") to let her know, too.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for. I love money, but don't get me wrong—I don't love money just for what it is: I love it for what it can buy. To wholly involve yourself with this world—this so beautiful world—I believe you have a moral duty to the universe to ensure your income off capital remains as tax-efficient as possible by retaining your disposable assets in earner-friendly offshore holdings.

I was very humbled when my accountant, Skunk, explained the inner wisdom of transferring the heart of my fiscal operation to the Netherlands. Tax avoidance has a strong spiritual dimension, a dimension of such joy that it could bring a tear to the eye of an orphan child. As usual, my good mate the Dalai Lama put it in a nutshell. But mine wouldn't fit in a nutshell, so instead I've put it in a portfolio of global investments.

I love old land. And new buildings. And so, yes, I combine these two passions by placing new buildings on old land. It gives me a great buzz. It all feels so real. Which must be why they call it "real estate."

I've been truly humbled to discover that the begetting of real estate is not only a creative act but one of the most natural forms of communication known to all mankind. So as I create my 31-floor residential development by the side of the Liffey River in my beloved Dublin, I know, deep within my heart, that I am somehow communicating with my fellow citizens of Ireland, and of the world.

Next year sees the commencement of our multi-million-dollar Let's Put an End to World Greed tour, which we'll be undertaking with our lovely new roadie, Zit. Across 43 dates, we will be seen by over one million beautiful people in 19 different countries, whilst retaining global film, TV, and publication rights for our own portfolio. How much will we gross? That's a tough question. But you know one thing that life has taught me? Sometimes the hardest questions are the ones most worth asking.

CRAIG BROWN