Alan Partridge has donned his windbreaker and undertaken a personal odyssey. It’s a walk from Norwich to Dungeness A power station – a trip that he insists has everything to do self-edification and nothing at all to do with cash flow. Coincidentally, it forms the subject of his new book Alan Partridge: Nomad. We tracked down the man himself...

GQ: You didn’t succeed in having the walk made into a TV series. Was it tough to secure the publishing deal?

Alan Partridge: In hindsight, this walk was never suited to television. I discovered that the physical exertion of rambling makes me go puce red. I’d never realised! (An ex-girlfriend had told me that I go red during sex, but I’d assumed she was just getting her own back on me because I’d said she had different-sized feet.) No, this walk was always destined for print. And so on completion I dangled it under the hungry noses of the publishing industry and waited for a bite, incrementally lowering my price once a week for 18 weeks, until the book was snapped up by a publishing house I had definitely heard of.

Do you have rituals that help you to write?

I’ll often loosen up by watching a movie, typically Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot. Sylvester Stallone plays a cop and for some reason he ends up being followed around by his elderly mother, who was in The Golden Girls or Cocoon, or both, or neither. She gets in the way and he becomes increasingly irritated, but together they crack a crime and it all ends well. It’s staggeringly funny.

What was the best anecdote that didn’t end up in the book?

Bumping into the guy from Grand Designs at a go-karting centre and having a chat. (Boring when written down.)

When you’re not working, how do you like to relax?

I head to the weekly Saturday morning bring-and-buy sale at St Luke’s Church Hall in Beccles. It’s a magnet for people who like to buy chipped crockery, knackered board games and the shoes of dead people. I tend to go down there whenever I want to take my mind off the pressures of work. I fill the boot with tat from my local Mencap store, then sell it for twice what I paid for it. I absolutely rinse them. You’re supposed to give ten per cent of all your profits to the church’s Africa appeal, but I prefer to give it to my own favourite charity, The National Trust.

Chapter 28 is about your ex-girlfriend. Has she been in touch since the book came out?

Steady on. Do I ask you personal questions? Because I could. Where did you get those shoes? Have you ever done a wee in the shower? Do you have eczema? Why do your eyes look sad when you smile? Not nice, is it? Right, ask me another question.

What was your fondest memory from the book launch?

That’s better. The finger food. Where did you get your shoes, by the way? They’re superb.

What’s your next project?

I’m still trying to sell Dogs On Fogle to a UK broadcaster. Simple idea: Ben Fogle is given a one-mile head start and pursued by hunting dogs. He has the option of wearing a heavily padded suit. It will protect him, but it will slow him down. So, you see, it’s very strategic. Ben texted me to say he’s getting cold feet about the idea, but he always does this. I think it’s a bargaining tactic.

Alan Partridge: Nomad (Trapeze, £20) is out now