At 16, I thought I’d be part of transforming the world into a socialist egalitarian arena of peace and justice. I’m not sure we’ve quite managed it.

Not being a professional footballer.

Not getting proper dance lessons as a young person. I was a serious flamer.

That Scottish tennis has failed to capitalise on the successes of Jamie and Andy.

I remember going to my auntie Pauline’s house in winter when I was eight or nine and she made me a roast beef sandwich. I ate it and fell asleep next to a fire. I felt like a cat, fed and left to nap.

Thinking I’ve upset somebody.

Losing my makeup bag.

Some man in the street stopped me and said: “If you were a few inches taller you’d be dangerous.” I’ve no idea what he meant.

I worked in a paper factory at five o’clock on a Saturday morning when I was in my early 20s. I’d go out raving the night before, get an hour’s sleep and then go to the factory. I was covered in paper cuts and used to think I heard people talking to me; they gave me a lot of breaks because they thought I was going mad.

I worked with Stephen Fry recently and we had a real heart-to-heart. I asked: “What was it like being in prison for being gay?” And thank God someone came in and he didn’t hear me say it. I was mixing him up with when he played Oscar Wilde. I could picture him in his cell.