(A repackaged Tommy is out on CD-ROM in the next few weeks, and a remastered Quadrophenia — on which Entwistle had to dub each individual piece of the extensive horn section — is due later this year.)

Entwistle seems content to let The Who sleep peacefully.

“There are obviously always questions about The Who,” he said, “but they don’t actually exist any more and it’s kind of tough on the members of The Who to actually live The Who down.”

Then again, Entwistle was always the quiet one of the bunch.

On the nights when Townshend and Moon would be happily smashing Gibsons and bass drums into small fragments, Entwistle would stand back and cradle his bass guitar, as if protecting his child from harm.

He has 216 of those children at home in Gloucestershire, where they exist safe, clean and forever intact.

Well, most of them will stay intact, anyway.

“Hey, I’ve smashed a few in my time,” Entwistle contended. “Probably about 15 — but usually in the confines of a dressing room or a hotel room or at home, when I get a little frustrated with it.”

Hotel rooms themselves, legendary playground of the drunk and bored Who, are now safe from Entwistle’s wrath. He promises that the trend-setting, destructive days of old are no more.

“I gave up smashing a long time ago, when they started putting us in rooms that needed decorating,” he said. “It was always kind of a mug’s game. It cost us more than it was actually worth.”