This Much I Know: Martin Clunes, Actor / Comedian, 44, London

I knew I wanted be an actor when I was seven and played Joseph in the school nativity play. I didn’t fluff any of my lines and my parents took me out for ice cream at the end. Magic!

People don’t appreciate how difficult it is to act well until they’ve seen really bad acting.

Contrary to my public image, I’m not a big drinker. When I landed the part of Gary in Men Behaving Badly I went out and bought a Mint Choc Viennetta and ate the whole thing myself!

My idea of self-indulgence is to stuff my face full of ice cream treats. Not the stuff off the ice cream man though, that‘s just wrong.

I’m not really an angry person. But if someone tries to pass off cheapo domestic ice cream cones on me, I’ve been prone to some pretty nasty reactions; let’s just leave it at that.

Therapy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I was in therapy from the age of 8 til 11 and I don’t feel it helped me at all. It didn’t help me with the nightmares and even now I still wake up screaming over that terrible, terrible day. It’s like I can still feel that 99’er melting in my hands all over again.

You never forget your first Wall’s Feast. Mine was when I was 11 and it was this discovery that encouraged me to quit the therapy. I mean, flaky chocolate, nuts, chocolate ice cream and solid milk chocolate in the middle? Come on! Most importantly though, it was wrapped and came with a stick to hold. That totally changed my life.

Money can’t buy you love, but it can buy you some serious ready-packaged ice cream products!

I think that I use exclamation marks too often.

Happiness is a hot day in Madrid and a chilled Nestle Maxibon. Half yummy chocolate ice cream and half delicious biscuity wafer. It doesn’t get any better than that I can tell you. Now if only we had them in England……

Politics isn’t for everyone. I wouldn’t say that I’m a very political person myself, but I do get passionate over the really crucial issues. Hence my recent decision to get on my hobby horse and become something of an agitator.

The range of ready-packaged ice cream products available in this country is a disgrace. You just hop on a plane to France, Spain or Italy. Even Germany for God’s sake and you’ll see how bad we have it over here. Every shop and news-stand carries a plethora of them. What do we have? You’re lucky to get a choc ice or a strawberry bleeding mivvy. Who won the bloody war anyway?

My wife thinks I’m being stupid. As always. She may be right, but someone’s got to take a stand. We’re either in Europe or we’re not. And if we are in, then we should enjoy the same ready-packaged ice cream product privileges as our neighbours. Our government are quick enough to hand our fish out to all and sundry after all.

At the end of the day, all you can do is say you’ve tried. And no-one can ever take that away from you.

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