PETER DINKLAGE

Like a lot of teenagers, I fell victim to that spell where you go dark and get sullen and think you know more than everyone else. I was starting to get into Bukowski and Hemingway – all these darker male journeys, from the cowboys of Shepard to Hemingway’s heroes, that had nothing in common with a kid from New Jersey. But somehow they still inspired me to live on the outside. I was at an all-boys Catholic prep school, which was an incredible education but I was on the periphery, socially. I had just a couple of friends and we put on plays.

I would definitely tell my 16-year-old self not to start smoking cigarettes. Because that’s when I started sneaking them from Dad’s ashtrays and from friends of mine – and it lasted way