Forgetting the words to my own songs on stage. I’m a very good mumbler of my own songs. You’d be surprised how few people notice – if you smile and do it confidently, they’re none the wiser.

I did an interview years ago and, after it finished, I made some passing comment about sex getting better as you get older – and they used that as the headline. The day the paper came out, I was in a restaurant with the family when a woman on the table next to me leaned over and said, in a sultry voice, “I read your article this morning.”

I was about six years old in a market square in Italy and my dad said, “Oh, those shorts would look perfect on you.” So he whipped my trousers off and I hadn’t got any knickers on.

I’m president of my neighbourhood association. At my first meeting there was a discussion about developments the association should oppose. I said: “Nothing could be as bad as that horrible new house next to the church.” “I designed that,” the chairman replied. I shut up.

The last time I really sobbed was watching Daniel Radcliffe’s documentary about his stuntman on the Harry Potter movies [David Holmes: The Boy Who Lived].

So many things. Every headline in the newspaper, global warming … the list goes on.

My housemate, because I keep shrinking his jumpers in the wash.

I wish I could be more patient. I always want things to get done or happen now.

When you’re younger you confuse love with chaos and passion and, as I’ve gotten older, I realise that love is the opposite: it’s peace and it feels safe, like home.

That everything happens for a reason.