Know what I mean? Eh, eh, Nudge nudge, Say no more?

My father, who was a sergeant in the RAF during the Second World War, was killed in a hitchhiking accident while returning home on compassionate leave. As a result, my mother had to get work, as a nurse, and at seven the RAF put me into a boarding school and ex-orphanage called the Royal Wolverhampton School.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will make me go in a corner and cry by myself for hours.

So it became in my mind a nine-carol service; an oratorio and orchestral concert all in one, but with narration. That's something I've learned about, because it's the story that keeps you in there. I wrote a libretto and I gave it to John Du Prez. We normally don't work in this fashion but I said off you go, and he went off for about three months. He brought me back this demo which blew my mind.

Writers tend to suffer from back problems because they spend their time bent over a desk.

My wife, Tania, is very big on dogs, so I'm always paying out to animal charities.

I'm not really a celebrity; I'm just vestigially left over from doing stuff from before.