Ian Wright

'A normal 24 hours is as dull as ditch water. I'll get up about 8.30am, switch on the radio and make a nice strong coffee in an Italian stove-top coffee maker, which I've only just discovered. The plunger type is rubbish. This one's full on. I'll make the wife a cuppa and she can stay in bed for another half an hour. I can't eat a thing in the morning.

I rally the boys, [they're] 17 and 19, get them sorted and out the house, and the day starts. I usually do a bit of shopping - get milk and do all that boring stuff - at the local shops.

I've got a computer at home but it's not connected to the internet, so I'll nip down to an internet cafe to see if I've got any e-mails. That takes about three minutes. Then I'll have a sad little look on eBay for old push-bikes, which is my Achilles' heel.

I adore anything with rod brakes from the 1950s or before. They're the best bikes ever. They're strong, have big, 28-inch wheels so you're high up - even higher than cars - and you've got a nice springy saddle so you haven't got a piece of plastic up your arse. It's lovely.

Now, I've only got four. One got nicked the other day. Even old bikes in London get nicked - anything in London gets nicked - and I've still no idea how it got stolen. I'd come back from a job and it just wasn't there at the back of the house, locked behind the fence. My son got his bike nicked as well. There're many people riding around London on Ian Wright bicycles and if I find them ... You're always looking. There's someone riding past and you're going, 'grrrr'. Don't start me off on bikes.

At the moment, I'm writing a book so, at last, I bought myself a computer. I haven't got it linked up to the internet because I know the kids will be on it all the time and I won't get a sniff.