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I was going to study music production, and he didn’t want me to throw all that away for some pie-in-the-sky idea of being a pop star.

Reader, I pissed myself. On stage at the London Palladium. With more than two thousand people watching. Fortunately I was wearing my grimy workhouse costume, so I don’t think the audience would have noticed anything

I learned that when you try to recapture a magical period in your life, it’s all too common to find the magic has gone.

One story in particular sticks in my mind, about travellers camping in a log cabin overnight, only realizing that an alien had been watching them for hours once its face had disappeared from the moonlit window. That story put an alien in my head that would never leave. Even when I was fully grown and touring the world, I’d always go back to my hotel room, or my bedroom, or wherever I was sleeping, and lie there terrified of the alien at the window. Even after playing in front of hundreds of thousands of fans I’d have to sleep with the TV on, the sound down and the bathroom door open. I’ve never been scared of burglars. I’ve never been scared of ghosts. I’m just scared of aliens, and often I’ve been so scared of them I couldn’t move. I know exactly what the phrase ‘paralysed with fear’ means, because I’ve experienced it nearly every single night.