An earthquake in Peru forced me and a young man into the street, where he had to introduce me to his family at three in the morning.

At a fashion show after-party in New York in 2004, my friend dared me to push her into the pool. I did, and you’ve never heard laughter die so quickly.

I have a deep-rooted fear of being in trouble. I once tried to sneak into the back of a photography exhibition with my husband when one of our kids was in a pushchair. We’d arrived late and he suggested we go in through the gift shop and see the last room. As we poked our heads round the door, the security guard noticed us. I shouted, “That man’s trying to get in!”, then ran away.

A gazillion years ago I was in Gucci with Melanie Blatt, and I attempted to sit down on a chair that wasn’t there. I did a full-on stuntwoman backward roll, landed in a ball of the floor and laughed so hard I wet myself. Everybody in the shop moved to a different section.

I was hellbent on being a Thunderbird. I was devastated when my parents finally told me it was a fictional organisation. Ruined my 18th.

It’s also one of the best jobs I’ve done, but two hours in, when everyone’s pissed and ignoring you, hosting the Brit awards can be a tough gig.

Don’t make jokes at the expense of Little Mix. They have an ardent fanbase.

Mainly my devil dog.

Turning into my father.

I dislike dawdlers. When I walk, I do so with purpose. I have no time for people shuffling along.