When I started as a researcher in the BBC, I was working for an editor who was a self-confessed misogynist. He used to practise shooting by aiming his air gun at an aerosol can balanced just over my head. I made it a matter of pride not to flinch as the pellets whizzed by.

There was a period when I did four or five terrible films. My agent said: “Don’t do them.” But it was my month’s rent for a day’s work. One time, my green room was a lorry. It started snowing and it was just me and a plastic chair in the back of an open lorry. It was pretty grim.

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

Helping to slaughter farmyard animals as a kid; watching while my aunties cut them up to get their guts out and seeing eggs floating around in the hens. That made me become a vegetarian.

You’re going to come up against brick walls in life. You’ve got to go over them, under them, around them, or crash through them, but somehow or other you’ve got to get to the other side.

Aside from the night that my wife said yes, creating Riverdance and Lord of the Dance, and employing thousands of dancers for the last 30 years.

On my deathbed thinking I wish I would have done something that I didn’t do.

The day my son was born.

Rhythm patterns from my dance shows.

I always try to see the good. I never look for the bad.