When I was young, selling maps to stars’ homes in Hollywood, somebody flashed their wiener at me. It was traumatising.

Working in a very busy bar in the West End when I was trying to pay my way through drama school. I had to dance in a cage in a vest and cycling shorts to Venus by Bananarama, Greased Lightnin’ and Y.M.C.A. every night. It was excruciating.

Working in a chip shop when I was 16. I gave my friends massive portions, but the smell was gross.

Double-glazing sales when I was about 16 – on the phone, cold calling. Horrendous.

That my baseball team, Baltimore Orioles, is always in the basement.

My teenage years in the Runaways: I was still naive enough to think good things about the world and life and people, and I was having fun playing rock’n’roll around the world, living the dream.

My electric car: it’s a hybrid Cadillac.

An astronaut, an archaeologist, an actor, and a musician.

Right after 9/11, Kenny and I went to perform for the troops in Pakistan and Uzbekistan. As we were flying in, an electronic voice went off: “Warning: missile launch! Warning: missile launch!” The Taliban had fired a rocket at us. I was waiting to see the back of the plane blow up, but it didn’t and we landed.

I don’t think I’d change anything: the bad forms you more than the good.