I wasn’t especially angry as a teenager, unless I was battling injustice. Then I’d lose my temper a little bit. But other than the righteous, smiting anger I saved for protecting the underprivileged, I kept things on a pretty even keel.

I view myself as an Ipswichian. As an Ipswichian, I was grateful for what I had: easy access to reasonably priced, non-branded footwear; very few hills and a sense that any smugness about one’s circumstances was inappropriate.

People would be surprised to learn I’m even more humble than they’d expect.

The five words that best describe me are: vital, urgent, beacon, potent, eternal.

I studied law at university. To the amazement of all who taught me, I graduated. I have, out of respect to The Law, never practised it, nor made any attempt to understand it. When people ask me what I studied, I have the opportunity to see how easily people can detect shame. There is much of which I’m ashamed. But studying law is one of the few things I’m ashamed to degree level.

I published my second philosophical paper aged seven, called The Big Sulk: How Withdrawal Can Be a Victory. At eight I gave up my epistemological enquiries to concentrate on jazz tap and sarcasm.

I once met The Edge from U2. The Edge isn’t even his real name. He made it up. I don’t know if anyone has dared to pick a definite article as a first name before. There’s The Rock, but he’s next gen. People forget how radical The Edge is as a name. Let’s disregard the fact his first name is a definite article. His last name isn’t even a constant. It’s a word whose very definition shifts. If we accept that “edge” means outer point, the furthest one can be, then it exists in relationship to everything around it. Where is The Edge? It depends where you are.

My own humanity keeps me grounded. Friends keep me grounded. Sometimes I’ll be at a friend’s house and the doorbell will ring and I’ll be like, “Don’t worry! I’ll get the door.”

At school, I was so obsessed with The Catcher In the Rye that I started to dress like Holden Caulfield. In the novel, Holden buys a red hunting hat, after losing all his goddam fencing gear on the goddam New York subway. I never lost all my goddam fencing gear, nor did I ever possess any goddam fencing gear, but I did resolve to get myself a red hunting hat, which Holden wears all the goddam time. It’s a changed town now, but the retail opportunities in Ipswich did not seriously rival those of New York, and I remember I had difficulty sourcing the requisite regalia. If I had wanted another pair of cheap shoes, boy was I in the right place.

Ayoade On Top (Faber, £12.99) is £9.49 at guardianbookshop.com