After Craig Children’s taxi driver father asked his fares where they were going he liked to regale them with a list of problems both social and economic that could be laid at the door of immigration. An irony considering Children enjoys the kind of racially diverse background that makes a BBC One ident look like Aryan propaganda. Quarter Lithuanian, Jewish, Welsh, and Parsi, Children’s background couldn’t have been more different to that of his Essex peers at Kelvedon Secondary Modern -- a school where Children’s obvious talent didn’t so much shine as provoke. Exhausted by having to attend synagogue, Baptist Church, the local seminary, and work evenings in his uncle’s corner shop, Craig was slow to blossom as a student. The turning point came when he caught Weil’s Disease after being pushed into the King George V reservoir on a school trip – he describes the subsequent recuperation from renal failure and acute meningitis as one of the happiest times of his life. Confined to a children’s ward for most of the summer, and recommended to take total bed rest, he clung to books like the drowning grasp life preservers. Having achieved a school first of high Cs in his mocks, Children enjoyed a police escort for his final term before going on to study English at the UK’s most prestigious second choice University: Warwick.

University opened Craig’s eyes to a new world of opportunity. He threw himself into student politics, founding the left-wing umbrella group “War On Warwick” and swiftly rising through the ranks to the coveted position of Ents Officer. Few would forget the night in ‘85 when due to basic incompetence Slade and Madness were double booked. Those hoping for a serendipitous night of musical collaboration were to be disappointed by the riot that ensued. Forced out of his position by a no-confidence vote, Craig bequeathed his position to a young Ricky Gervais, who -- he doesn’t mind saying -- was, at the time, a bit of a nonentity. Children went on to graduate and pursue a career in journalism the only way he knew how: bombarding semi-obscure magazine The Modern Review with a deluge of unsolicited material. A trickle of broadsheet work followed, and after an internecine series of arts desk coups he more or less found himself as the last man standing and the incumbent Editor of the Independent’s Culture pull-out. A title which he made his own with a series of innovations including a bigger TV listing supplement and free CDs of the Emmanuelle soft porn movies. Talking-Head-for-hire status soon followed, with regular appearances on the Late Review (whenever Tony Parsons had childcare commitments) and the inevitable round of nostalgia clip-shows – though even Craig drew the line at “The One Hundred Greatest Animal Makeovers”. He is delighted to now be writing for the Times.

Craig lives alone in Maida Vale with his cat, Goo-goo.

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