It was Fame by Irene Cara; I would have been eight. I went to after-school drama classes and we would try to dance like they did on the TV programme - “You want fame? This is where you have to start paying, in sweat!” We’d say this to each other. It’s quite blush-making to think about it now.

Ironic, really, because so much of my new show lampoons celebrity culture. I probably liked the idea of fame at eight. Now I can’t be bothered with it. I was in Spar recently and the news on the radio was of how Israel had killed the leader of Hamas. But the third item on the news was "more shocking revelations" about the Beckhams’ marriage. There was this unbelievable sense that the other story wasn’t as shocking.

Andrew Eaton