Living in a campervan for a week with Timmy Mallett for a children’s TV show about 40 years ago.

I once had to sit on a sleigh and pretend to be Bing Crosby for a corporate party. I had to mime to White Christmas over and over again.

For two weeks I worked behind the players’ bar at Bolton Wanderers football club – footballers don’t tip.

I’ve only done two and loved them both – one in the band, and the other as an interpreter in customs.

Before I was DPP, I did a lot of work trying to get rid of the death penalty in various countries, and one was Malawi. We’d been in court in Zomba and had to get a plane in Lilongwe, about 200 miles away. We got a local taxi: the guy changed his wheels for the journey because the car wasn’t roadworthy and then hurtled at speed, mostly on the wrong side of the road. I’ve never been so terrified.

Disrespect. My dad was a toolmaker and worked in a factory all his life, and he felt looked down on, and it really affected him. And so all my life I’ve loathed disrespect and valued respect.

There are yards and yards and yards of abuse every day. I ignore the lot of it.

Having more time to spend with Vic and the kids.

Failure. I hate losing, particularly at football and politics. I play five-a-side every week – middle of midfield, barking orders. Some people say it’s the taking part that counts. I am not in that camp. It’s the winning that counts.

Vic, my wife, has over the years reduced my impatience, but anybody who has been in a traffic jam with me will know that she hasn’t completed the task yet.