Dancing on stage with an open fly.

Having somebody pull my judo trousers down at a competition when I was seven. And finding I wasn’t wearing any pants.

Eight or nine years ago, I disgraced myself in the Japanese ambassador’s home in Dublin, at a celebration for my late mother-in-law’s book about living in Japan. Afterwards, when I had to apologise, she told me it was the worst night of her life and, because I was drunk enough not to remember the details, it will never not be the most embarrassing night of my life. People are filling in details even now – “Remember when you fell under the table during the first course?”

When my trousers split on stage in Burn the Floor in Australia. I had always been warned to wear my flesh underwear and I did not that day.

It would improve the quality of all of our lives if we just got rid of all unessential vehicles in New York City.

The Middle East crisis.

Losing my mind.

Caddying for really rich people at this country club in Connecticut when I was a teenager. They would talk like I wasn’t there so I would hear all about their lives, their affairs and their stupidity, and yet I couldn’t say anything.

Every woman I dated before I met my wife, because I think I convinced too many people that they were the one, and they were not the one.

Stimulating in every way.