It must be weird to be Ross Kemp. One minute you’re a TV mechanic married to Martine McCutcheon, the next, you’re in LA talking to some kid who’s prepared to battle to the death with a rival gang and wondering, “How did he end up like this?” A few years later, and you’re looking a warlord in the eye in the Congo, then shivering on a Cardiff street, posing as a rough sleeper as everyone pretends not to see you. Then you’re presenting a prime-time Saturday night celebrity quiz show, and then you’re diving the site of the most British shipwreck of all time, Henry VIII’s Mary Rose, and worrying because your nose is too squishy for the “snot block”.
“Yeah, the snot block,” says Kemp, demonstrating for me. “When…