I fell asleep in a room that had an oil heater and it filled with carbon monoxide and, if it hadn’t been for my husband, Terry, I would have died.

Childbirth. And the wheel of our camper van coming clean off on the M1.

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.

In the early 90s, in the Andes, caught in an atrocious storm above 20,000ft with three others. We were all in a very bad way. Some guys close to us perished; we were lucky.

“What is Seann Walsh and how do we make it die?” It was online, thankfully. It wasn’t in Sainsbury’s.

At school, I got my head stuck in a balustrade on the stairs at lunchtime. I had pupils laughing at me, parents laughing at me, teachers laughing at me and eventually, at the end of the day, the fire brigade laughing at me.

I got sacked from TK Maxx for falling asleep under the coats.

A comedian or the guy who drives the little truck around airports that takes old ladies to their gate.

Certainty. I also can’t stand it when someone calls you and then says, “Wait, I need to put my headphones in.”

I did say sorry to my mum, for being the way I was when I was a teenager. You become a parent and go, “Oh my God, this is what they were doing.”