Selling stolen mangoes to pay for a cinema ticket, aged eight.

Being a cocktail waitress and having to wear a compromising dress in an unwoke 1990s world.

Selling fire alarms at 18 or 19.

Shucking oysters one summer in Nice.

To my cousin P, who was one of my best mates growing up. We lost him when we were in our 20s and, before he passed away, I was so busy with this stupid thing called life and a brand new kid. He called me and said: “Bro, I’m not feeling right.” And I said: “Bro, you’ve never been feeling right.” And it always sits on my head that if me or somebody else had been paying more attention maybe things would have worked out different. He had extremely rare bowel cancer and died five weeks later at 27.

I bought a BMW 7 series and my best mate said: “I don’t think you should buy this, bro, it’s too cheap.” And I said: “Let’s live the dream” and put my foot down hard on the accelerator and the bottom of the engine and the gearbox blew out.

Juicy, funny, impulsive.

Turning my life around. Seeing the level of criminality I was involved with, and coming to the realisation that it was not the life that I should be leading.

We’re not really allowed to cry where I’m from. I can only cry in summer, at the height of hay fever.

Impulsivity. We end up in strange places, like right now – I am in the Middle East.