In the not so distant past I have injured myself playing Kerplunk, been dragged around my flat in a box, fallen into countless shrubs, stolen anything that isn't nailed down from pubs, cut all of my toes open - only realising so when I awoke to find my bloody feet stuck to the duvet, shouted "You Beauty!" at a man with giant sideburns who walked past my flat everyday for a year, stolen a bus stop and took it all the way home from London on the train and debaucherously fallen asleep on a pebble beach. I am not a nice person to know.

But I can make a mean lasagne.