My childhood was chaotic. Mother had an affair with the milkman, who later became my stepdad and my father left. My stepdad was an angry guy and Mother was a hysterical narcissist. It was a toxic mixture and there was a lot of disruption and violent arguments in the house. I retreated into a fantasy world to protect myself.

If I’d had a happy childhood I definitely wouldn’t have become the person I am – although a bad childhood isn’t a recipe for being a creative person. There are many people in the arts who come from perfectly happy, middle-class homes.

I nearly joined the army at 16. I went straight down to the recruitment office, but the guy said: “I don’t think you are quite ready.” He was right. I think it would have worked out very badly.

Cross-dressing got me when I was 12. I had a fantasy about being a prisoner in a German PoW camp and being ordered to dress as a woman. It gave me such a buzz that the next day I borrowed a dress from my sister.

My beloved teddy bear Alan Measles was my substitute dad. He was my first Christmas present from my parents when I was a baby, and became my best friend. I grew up in a dangerous environment in which to be an assertive male, so I parked a large part of myself with him for safekeeping.

My whole existence is a two-fingers-up to a certain sector of the art world. I was having a coffee recently and this woman said: “My son likes putting on dresses, he loves you.” Brilliant. I love that I can reach that popular audience.

Road rage is my vice. I’m a cyclist and motorcyclist, and people who don’t indicate drive me nuts. I’m not usually recognised on the road because I’m a boiling anger ball, but a guy once popped his head out of a hole in the road he was fixing and said: “Shouldn’t you be in a dress?”

I’m an unapologetic fetishist, which is a dirty word in other branches of the trans community. Once during filming I hung out with a bunch of trans people and I overheard one say: “He’s just a cross-dresser.” I turned round with my gun-turret head on and said: “Just a cross-dresser?” I got their number.

It’s handy being married to a psychotherapist. Philippa is so clear-eyed. We met at a creative writing course more than 30 years ago. We became good friends before we became lovers.

Therapy has been the biggest influence on my work since I first did it about 20 years ago. I started because if anything went wrong, it was always a catastrophe, never just a blip. I had a god-awful temper and I still do – but just more appropriately.

I don’t care how I’ll be remembered after death. For all I know people will put all my work in a skip the next day.

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