Was when I worked as a runner on the set of Mona Lisa. I was still at school but desperate to get into the film industry. I did all sorts. Swept up, made tea, ran to the shops to get Wispas for Robbie Coltrane, polished Michael Caine’s glasses. The lot. But it was in Bob Hoskins caravan that I had the most hellish time. I had the task of twice every day waxing Bob’s back and arse crack before he filmed his bonking scenes with Cathy Tyson. It was like tackling Captain Caveman. On minimum wage.

Bob’s known for being one of the hairiest men in showbiz and to start with the director Neil Jordan tried filming the love scenes au natural. The rushes were terrible. It was like something out of Gorillas in the mist with Bob pumping away at poor Cathy like Mighty Joe Young. For there on I'd be ushered into Bob's luxury caravan by the Best Boy, a galvanized bucket of molten wax and some industrial tape in my nervous hands, Hoskins face down on the formica table/bed, back like a hearth rug.

To this day I can’t see a roll of Gaffa tape without a shudder running through me.

It's good to talk.