Christmas elf at the Rainforest Cafe.

I worked in the largest pork pie factory in Europe. I had a plastic mushroom-shaped thing and had to tamp down the meat into the pie base. It was a conveyor belt of pies from nine to five. The worst thing was the crackly AM radio, which was played loudly through the tinny tannoy system. I still can’t listen to I’m Not In Love by 10cc without thinking of raw minced pork.

I worked in a supermarket on the Kings Road when I was 17, standing by the beers, wines and spirits to make sure people didn’t shoplift. They were such horrible employers that I didn’t care whether people shoplifted or not.

On a cosmetics production line. I walked out after half a day.

Aung San Suu Kyi, for her resilience and determination.

A bilious green suit springs to mind.

Slightly longer arms.

Once in a Lifetime by Talking Heads. When I first heard it at 15, it was different to all the punk I was listening to. When I was starting out in my career, it was all about: ‘How is this possible? How am I doing this?’ Now it’s: ‘Is this my life? How did I get here?’ The lyrics are all about returning full to nature. That’s how I imagine death to be. So that’s what I want at my funeral. And they’ll play Combine Harvester by the Wurzels as people are leaving the church.

Not being chosen as the next Bond.

My parents, for not pursuing an academic career.