Selling low-grade cookery books in west London office buildings.

Working in a betting office on Grand National day. I was 17 and my hair was scrunched like Mick Hucknall’s.

Magician’s assistant on a cruise ship for two weeks when I was 19. When I was meant to be being levitated, I was silently crying while pretending to be unconscious as I hung limply off a metal pole. It was bleak.

It was a double-edged sword, but being a major-label artist, I felt like a commodity, a thing to be sold.

I had no idea. When I was a week away from leaving school, a teacher said, “We’ve been talking in the staffroom and we all think you should be an actor.” I thought, “That’s exactly what I want.” The rest is history.

After my documentary aired. I suddenly had a bit of panic, because it’s very personal. I couldn’t watch it on the night, I was so scared. The next day people were walking up to me on the street and telling me their life story. It was extraordinary.

I would have had a bit more belief in myself: I would have reached for America sooner.

My first girlfriend when I left drama school. I was a bit of tart.

In New York, I once went shopping and spent something like $7,000 on a couple of shirts, trousers and a jacket. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was ridiculous.

Having my family closer.