Once we’d done trauma, mourning, gay guilt, regular guilt and Catholic guilt, we got on to the easy-breezy ‘Oh yeah, btw forgot to mention, I’m absolutely terrified of being alone. They’ve lit scented candles, Grimshaw explains over the roar of the radio, “because I cooked a burger for breakfast! These are Grimmy’s stories of things gone right and wrong across his life and career so far, with all the highs and lows and everything in-between.

A story I remembered, but only the part of it I had been privy to through social media six years ago.I’d speak about the fear I was going to be murdered in the house, that Edward Scissorhands thing, this feeling of looking over my shoulder. Despite listening to him on the radio all the time and feeling like I knew him, I really didn’t know him as much as I thought I did. From his move from Oldham, Greater Manchester, to the bright lights of London, to his 14-year career climbing to the helm of the Radio 1 breakfast show, he'll discuss everything from his love of music through to self-care, partying, life-changing nights out, growing up, Red Nose Day, coming out, dogs, family, ADHD, Catholicism, and all that he's seen in-between. The long-awaited second instalment in Samantha Shannon's Sunday Times and New York Times-bestselling series Tunuva Melim is a sister of the Priory.

For all the little queer kids feeling left out in suburbia, feeling not at the centre of the party, they can make their own party. Grimshaw (“Grimmy” to friends, which include, by default, his audiences, who come up to him on the street and start talking as though they’re midway through a conversation) chuckled, awkwardly.The problem with writing a memoir, found Nick Grimshaw as he started his, was that it meant facing himself. Over there is a marble coffee table and a Keith Haring print, over here a Memphis piece once owned by David Bowie.