This much I know: Tim Minchin, 49

There were no black sheep in our family, no one rejected by the flock. I grew up in Perth, Australia – a trauma-free, uncomplicated childhood; the second of four kids. We were expected to behave, and we did – a little gang.

I was quite deaf, asthmatic and allergic; a pudgy, vulnerable, quite thick child. My mum and brother were very protective of me. It took me a while to get past that. From the age of 10, I became a show-off.

Mum's side of the family was arty, flamboyant and chaotic, while dad’s were establishment surgeons. I'm very lucky to be a dead split – a logic nerd with a capacity for music.

I feed my life through the meat crusher that is my creative process. It’s how I engage with the world, and I don’t know another way.

Criticism is something I struggle with. I’ve taught myself to cope, but naturally I’m terrible. I’m wired to feel shame very easily, and have had long periods where I can't sleep and I'm filled with anxiety. Only, I know I can’t expect people not to critique what I do.

The night my mother died, I went on stage. I’ve not had a strong reaction to her death yet. I suspect it might still be to come. I loved her, and if I talked about her for two more minutes I'd get teary. But it didn't knock me sideways. My brain just goes: well 73 is a bit young, but everyone’s mum dies, right? That’s one of the fucking rules.

Injustice throws me. I'm empathic to people, but not cuddly. It’s more that I’m a moderate and a determinist. I always think: How did this person end up in this situation? We’re all just computers and it’s not our fault.

Love isn’t illogical, it’s just an appetite. I’ve found a companion who I am really attracted to and share a lot with, and I’ve not got negatives to offset the positives. That’s all marriage is.

Hair has been pivotal to my career. Twenty years ago, after my Edinburgh breakthrough, I went from playing tiny rooms to the Royal Albert Hall. From the moment I did my first show with long straight hair and eye liner, everything went whoosh. I know it’s a coincidence, but I just can’t bring myself to cut it. It’s part of the brand.

There’s nothing else I need to do before it’s over, but I’m still hungry. I want to write five more musicals and five more albums and make five more TV shows. Nothing is going to stop me except the clock.

Get on with it, and have fun. I’ll be 50 in October. When your mum dies aged 73, that seems too close for comfort. Yes, you can grit your teeth and be furious and sensitive and worry all the time, but as I get older, I think I'm lucky to be fit and strong, with kids who have cleared their teenage years OK. You’ve got to enjoy it.

Tim Minchin’s new album Time Machine is out now

Photograph by Getty Images