Being away a lot on tour means that my family has to suffer an inordinate amount of overcompensation, as I return home with skewed ideas of what counts as quality time. I will force everyone into a cinema trip, insistent that three hours in the dark in silence is the perfect way for us all to re-engage.

I have long believed that success stories need a bit of balance. We only hear from people who risked it all, and found it paid off.

I owe much of my success to Seann Walsh. He kept recommending me for Live At The Apollo until eventually the producers offered me a gig.

I would not have succeeded as a comedian had I not had some hugely lucky breaks.

When you spend your day writing comedy, particularly with others, the discussion of jokes and how far to push things with a group of unoffendable colleagues means that your grasp of what is acceptable in normal conversation is often skewed.

I thoroughly enjoy my children's birthdays, despite the fact their parties are an apocalyptic mix of hall-booking, Nerf-gun-hiring, refreshment-organising and talking to parents whose names you've forgotten.

When my wife and I promised the rest of our lives to each other, I doubt either of us suspected that life would involve quite so much TV.

I have read that, when you are writing or working on something creative, and your attention wanders, your brain is processing and working on what you have just done. But I find it hard to believe that my brain is really taking five hours to fully process the seven minutes I have managed to spend focused on one thing.

My garage/office is strewn with Post-its, cards, folders, notebooks, yoga mats and multicoloured pens, all purchased in a quest to unlock a magic way of working that will ensure my ascension to next-level creativity.

My childhood memories are filled with hugs and kisses from both my mum and dad. My mum has a thing about kissing you an odd number of times: if she kisses you once, all good, but if she kisses you twice, then you know another one has to follow and, weirdly, she tends to go for the forehead.

I was terrible at sport at school. I was fat, which made things slightly tougher, but it also meant that people were encouraging to the point of patronising.

I have long been guilty of dressing too young for my age.

I have never worried about having my finger on the pulse, because I consume music and cinema voraciously, and assumed that meant I would know all of the things my kids were into, even if I didn't like them.

People say that I'm quite grumpy and negative on stage and that I surely can't be like that off it, but I really am.

I've done bits where I've perhaps talked about my kids annoying me and you hope that the audience realise that you do actually love your children. You can still be a good parent and be frustrated by your kids.

The experience of watching other standups is either: 1) you see your mate doing standup and it's really bad and you're heartbroken, or 2) You see your mate doing really well and it's heartbreaking.

What I'm like with lack of sleep is that I let the devil in, so if I'm tired the slightest thing will put me into a bad place.

People who are comfortable in their own skin I admire, but you don't know what's really going on. If you meet someone who says they nail being a human, they are as far away from nailing it as a human as you can possibly imagine.

My parents are super westernized. My mom listens to western music, my dad was like a pub landlord so he properly embraced English life. But the truth is they both came from tiny villages in Sri Lanka.

I worry about my children, actually. I'm trying to give them a decent upbringing but I sometimes worry that that means they're going to be kind of mediocre adults. Like maybe I should throw them out for a bit and give them some adversity.

My family is all obsessed with comedy. I grew up watching a lot of comedy in the house. I used to watch Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy with my dad. But my mom is more into slapstick stuff.

I did a gig as a standup when I was eight years old. I went on holiday with my family to this holiday camp and they had a talent competition and I entered as a standup.

If you're racist and you come out and say it's because of Brexit, then great. Then I know definitely not to talk to you, rather than you give me a sideways glance in a shop. Now I know, I've seen your Facebook post.

I just write what I think is funny, or interesting, and hopefully everything else will take care of itself. There's no strategy to anything.