When I was drinking, there were many times when I was out for the night and didn’t come back for a week.

One of these days I will encounter what Henry James called on his deathbed “the distinguished thing.” I will not be conscious of the moment of passing. In this life I have already been declared dead. It wasn’t so bad. After the first ruptured artery, the doctors thought I was finished. My wife, Chaz, said she sensed that I was still alive and was communicating to her that I wasn’t finished yet. She said our hearts were beating in unison, although my heartbeat couldn’t be discovered. She told the doctors I was alive, they did what doctors do, and here I am, alive.

I hit a bit of lumpy tarmac driving my motorbike over the Pyrenees in the early 1980s. There was no safety barrier and I found myself riding along the edge of a precipice on half the width of the tyres for 100 yards.

A running accident when I was 14 or 15. I fainted but I was a bit of a jester and they thought I was taking the piss, so I was left for a bit. I woke up in hospital.

As a nice person who always put others before myself. I’d also like my own posthumous tartan.

When I was a kid I was a chambermaid in my family’s hotel, and I once found a strap-on that someone had left behind.

Something that you can’t describe or put in a box. It changes daily and surprises you when you least expect.

Not having my own chatshow. Yet!

A pair of Balenciaga boots. They were extortionate, but that has to be at least 10 years ago and I still wear them.

Martin Scorsese. I was, let’s say, slightly tactile with him during a Q&A; I was more nervous than I’ve been about anything. I kept tapping his knee, it might even have been bruised by the end.