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Ian Wright

David Evans

'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.

The book is all my boring travel stories. I've been threatening to do it for ages. It'll be more like a coffee book; it'll have sketches, little doodles and silly remarks as well as a few anecdotes. It's about time I got off my arse and did that.

I'll write until I go a bit mad, while my wife, Jen, goes upstairs to do a bit of sculpting ... because she's a sculptor. Then, if we're feeling a bit fruity, we'll go out and have something to eat. I'll take her out for a little pub lunch as a treat. The best cafe is an Italian greasy spoon that's been there since the 50s and it's all 50s decor. They're about the only place that still does real chips - and that's lovely - and we have this lasagne that's, 'corrr'. So we'll have a little munch there, then home and I might do a bit of painting downstairs. I've got a little room where I paint in oils because I do a lot of sketching when I'm travelling. There're a lot of dark moody seascapes then colourful desert landscapes; it's all over the place.

Jen will cook up a munch for the evening and we'll have a little nibble. The best evening out ever is a nip down to the local pub. There's a pool table there and my youngest son will come down because he thinks he's a pool shark, but he's s**t.

I love it when kids invent themselves. He'll go, 'I reckon I can fly a plane. I think the landing will be hard, but I reckon I could take off and that.' I'm like, 'Why?' And he's, 'I've been chatting to a lot of pilots.' And I'm, 'Where do you meet all these pilots?' He's like, 'Just here and there and that.' Mad! It's brilliant. So he comes down and I kick his arse at pool.

The best nights [are when] there's football on; some mates will come down and we'll play some pool. Football on telly, beer and pool.

I'm an Ipswich [Town Football Club] supporter, but I won't be watching them on telly. I have been mistakenfor [former Arsenal striker Ian Wright], mostly by disappointed cab drivers who turn up at the airport with a sign saying 'Ian Wright'. They know it's connected to telly, so they're gutted.

One time, coming back from New York with a mate, we got met off the plane by some PR people and they ushered us through immigration and I think they just had to go through with it because they had made the mistake, but they were all over us and they were good.

I've also turned up and a kid has had a huge Ian Wright [the footballer] poster. He was only 10, poor thing, but I signed it. And I've had a couple of Ian Wright's cheques, which I've cashed. They sent them to my house because I did a bit of work for the BBC; they must have got the addresses mixed up. They caught me about three months later and I had to pay it back.

I'm probably away about five or six times a year, but now it's [for] shorter [periods]. With [TV show] VIPs, it's only a week-long trip. I've cut it down because after 12 years, it's damaging. It'd be too much to be away from the family and it's not good. At the beginning, I was away for about seven months of the year, which is ridiculous.

There's usually a group of five: me, the director, sound man, camera man and producer, and we'll always use a fixer in the country - someone who knows the ropes.

At the end of the day, if our van drivers get involved, they're worth their weight in gold because they know more about the country than anyone else. Their job is driving around so they know what streets not to go down and they know everyone.

They also love rock music. I love it too, so I'm sitting in the front with my tapes in cahoots with the driver. The rest are like, 'Put some acid jazz on' and I'm like, 'Shut up,

AC/DC, ark, ark, baaarr'. But travelling through Mongolia with Status Quo on a 12-hour loop is wrong.'

VIP Weekends With Ian Wright premieres tonight on Discovery Travel & Living at 10pm.

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