Appearing on US breakfast radio. I heard the DJ say that after the news we would hear from the author Lincoln Child. I had to choose between making a guy with a mixed-up PR release look like an idiot or pretending to be Lincoln. I pretended.

The idiocy of going to Skye from New Zealand in April 2020. All of a sudden, I’m turning on the news and hearing myself as an item. I have never been more mortified.

Putting chocolate mousse in my agent’s face. Somebody had done it to me – that thing where they go, “Smell this, it smells funny”, and then they put it in your nose. A year later I was in this French restaurant with a very 1980s-style dessert trolley and, before I knew it, I had a bowl of chocolate mousse in front of me. And my agent went, “What’s that smell?”, and it felt impossible not to … I immediately felt awful and tried to apologise. He, of course, said that he found it funny. But I knew he didn’t.

Holding the hand of some random lady at an airport who I mistook for my wife, Shara.

I assumed that once I reached some level of achievement, I would feel fixed.

Superiority. I shrink when I’m around people who act superior, whether it’s due to authority or intellect. I almost become mute.

Picking myself back up after very tricky times and trying again.

An air steward, because I loved airports. I wrote a letter to British Airways when I was seven and I’ve got the reply in the loft, which says, “You’re a bit young at seven but do stay in touch.” I was that kind of kid who was eager to start the ball rolling.

Impatience. I’m not very good at waiting around or dealing with things that aren’t moving at a pace that I want them to.

People have said, “I wish you would die.” That’s the stark truth of being in the public eye – people dehumanise you and say ghastly things.