I frequently meet ex-pupils who seem to think I didn't totally ruin their educations, so that's something.


Me and my sister made up a game called 'Milky Cow'. We were on holiday in France when I was 12, and there was a kid who had bovine features, and every time we went past her, we'd say, 'There's Milky Cow'.

Myself and some kids on our estate became obsessed with the creation of the ultimate go-kart. This ambition culminated in the creation of a six-man super-cart, which was essentially a plank of wood with four wheels, and a failed attempt to jump a tributary of the River Severn powered only by Rex, our dog.

If you want something badly enough, you go for it.

Carla Lane's 'Butterflies' seemed to be on in our house at all times when I was a kid, as did 'The Good Life.' But it was 'Fawlty Towers that made me really sit up for the first time. Basil's incandescent rage made me howl.

As far as characters are concerned, Alan Partridge makes me wet myself. I'm currently reading the book and have started talking like him as an unfortunate consequence.

My dad always told me that, as far as he's concerned, I can do whatever I choose in life as long as I'm happy and can handle the consequences of bad decisions. He only ever said that when he thought I was doing the wrong thing. I would employ similar passive aggression.

When I was 17, my dad was teaching in the States. He hired an A-Team-style van, and we drove all over. My resounding memory of it was that we saw all these wonderful places but that my sister and I were being horrible, sulky teenagers.

If you're funny and working in education, I think the perception is that you're either inspirational or awful. So which was I? I suppose that depends on who you talk to.

'Man Down' is not a serious study of the human condition: it is a balls-out attempt at making people laugh. So nobody in the show can afford to cling on to any vanity, because we're always going to push the humiliation levels.

Don't say I was an inspirational teacher - my former pupils would laugh their heads off. I was grossly incompetent, but I hope I didn't do the children a disservice.

I would spend a lot of time setting up an accident scene where it appeared that I had seriously hurt myself - hedge-cutter, ketchup, that sort of thing. When my sister happened upon the scene of horror, I would lift my head and pathetically plead for her to 'get Mum'.

My dad, who had spent his life as a lecturer, said, 'That's all very well, but you need to earn a living, so why don't you teach?' I did, and 13 years later, I woke up.

I grew up in Shropshire, but I was born in Wales. There was a hospital seven miles away, but my dad drove 45 miles over the Welsh border so I could play rugby for Wales. But as a skinny asthmatic, I was only ever good at swimming.

I once bought some enormous fireworks that were literally the size of sticks of dynamite. We would go into the field behind our house, slide them into the biggest cow pats we could find, and blow them sky high. It was exhilarating and, for the cows, incredibly confusing.