Standing outside a pub in Acton on a freezing February day in a threadbare overcoat doing market research.

I was a Harrods store detective for a day. I was so bad at it, one of the other detectives thought I looked suspicious and reported me.

I shucked oysters for a day without the proper knife or gloves. I had to go to hospital as I’d ripped my hands up. I can’t recommend it as a career option.

Washing dishes when I was a student.

I was born in 1964, in the most working-class area of Liverpool, so the N-word was bandied around a lot.

The Fake Sheikh did a sting on me once and the News of the World headline was “Craig Charles is an evil drug-pushing monster”. That wasn’t good on the school run, I’ll tell you that.

To my parents for all the mess-ups. There have been times when I’ve been going through something and I’ve thought, God, I’m so glad my mum and dad are dead, because they don’t have to go through it with me.

Losing my marbles.

Love makes me feel sick. I get sick with worry about my kids. It keeps me up at night.

A Rolls-Royce. I met my wife, Jackie, when I was filming a Lynda La Plante drama called The Governor. I fell in love with her instantly and I was bullshitting that I had a Rolls-Royce. When I finished filming, she decided to leave her country and come and live with me in London. On the way to the airport, I phoned my PA and said, “Go and buy a Rolls-Royce.”