I have no recollection of being a little bastard. But my aunties tell me I was when I was young. There’s a story that when I was a toddler I’d sing for the greengrocer and he’d give me a banana. Then one day he didn’t give me a banana and I told him to fuck off. I must have been about three because I was still in a pram.

Your tribe is what you are. I can see that now that I’m living in Essex. There are more East Enders in Essex than there are in London. So I’ve realised it’s not the manor – although we do go back to watch West Ham – it’s the people.

A new suit makes me feel like a million dollars. There’s a saying: “No good being poor and looking poor,” so I’ve always treated myself to a bit of special clobber.

When I was a boy my dad would take us to a tailor’s at Easter and Christmas. I can still remember my first blazer: dark blue mohair with my initials, R A W, embroidered on the outside pocket. “Raaaw!” I loved it.

There is such thing as a wrong ’un. I’m not a thief – I’d rather give someone something than take it away from them – and I’m not a villain, although people believe that I am because I act those parts. It’s a compliment. But there’s a middle ground with me: it could have gone either way.

I once pissed on Ronnie Kray. He held me as a baby – my dad knew him. And, well, I suppose I gave him a bit of a shock.

I was 40 before I started taking my career seriously. Nil by Mouth changed things – until then I didn’t really know what I was doing. But with that film I saw that I might have something a bit different, a way of working that was my own. And that not every baddie has to be just the robber, the gangster, the brute. They can have a kindness or gentleness, too.

Money burns a hole in my pocket. It ruins things sometimes. I’ve been bankrupt twice, but I got me nut down and paid the taxman back.

Love is about loyalty. It took me a long time to find that out. You fall in love and it’s a sexual thing, but years down the line you’ve got to like the person that you live with. And I’m lucky that I do.

You’ve got to give it to Dickens. I’m not a great reader of books but I’m au fait with the stories he wrote and that vibrancy, the dirtiness of London – it’s spot on. There were areas of London in the 60s that were straight out of a Dickens novel – men in hats and big overcoats drinking grog. And now and again you still find those characters.

The Winstones are defined by strong women. If you look back through our history they’ve all been through the mill, my great-grandmother in particular, and it kind of breaks your heart. But then you realise that we’re a surviving mob. I see it in my three daughters – they all have their frailties, but come into their own when the chips are down.

I don’t trust any of our politicians. They’re all the same. If one of them was to stand up and actually tell the truth I’d probably vote for them, regardless of what party they were representing. Because I’m not interested in left or right or any of that.

I don’t mean to look like I want to kill people. Sometimes I just feel self-conscious and try to act like I don’t care.

I’m not a follower of any religion. My church is my home and my kids, and as far as I can see, I’m living in heaven. Seeing your kids being born, having them sing a song to you for the first time – that’s heaven. And as for going into a church and saying sorry – well, I can say sorry to my wife.



Young Winstone by Ray Winstone is out now, published by Canongate at £20. To order a copy for £16, go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846