ANEMONE. Anemone vitifolia: This little fella has a sharp, musky smell, reminiscent of good, strong ale. Whenever I can get away, I love to throw myself headlong into the woods, like some of the toughest men of yore, and take a good, long sniff of an anemone. On the subject of anemones, yes, I have lots of anemones, and they’re out to get me, but to me they’re a horseshit waste of fucking space—they’re just fucking idiots.

BUTTERCUP. Ranunculus nemorosus: For those of you who are know-nothings with wood for brains, an anemone is a type of buttercup. In other words, it belongs to the broader buttercup family. Jeez, how many more times do I have to tell you? The last time someone came up to me in a bar and put a buttercup under my chin and said, “Do you like butter?,” I gave him a darn good thumping and left him bruised all over, so just watch it, mate.

CHERRY, Prunus avium: A cherry is one of those fruits I’ve always hankered to play in a movie, but I still haven’t seen a cherry-based script that is worthy of my attention. But I’m still putting in the preparation. I’ve read every book on cherries I can lay my hands on, some of them very intellectual indeed, and whenever I have a spare moment I cover myself in woad and screw myself up into a little ball and hang from trees: “/ am Prunus avium and I will have my vengeance in this life or the next!" Powerful stuff. Some of the shit I get up to, cherry-wise, is really quite complex, and it takes me into a dark place, but if you aren’t prepared to put the work in, you don’t deserve to be called an actor.

FIG. Ficus carica: I have never head-butted a fig. Period.

IRIS. Iris versicolor: Sure, I was offered the role of Iris Murdoch in the movie Iris, but the director didn’t share my vision of Iris as part outsider, part warrior, part loner, part bareknuckle fighter, so frankly, I wouldn’t play ball. I have my integrity.

DAFFODIL. Narcissus pseudonarcissus: Don’t talk to me about daffodils, mate. To me they’re just yellow. Pseudonarcissus: that says it all. They’re nothing. See? Frankly, I can’t abide the fucking things. In fact, anyone who persists in talking daffodils to me will end up with a bunch stuck up his fucking arse.

RHODODENDRON. Rhododendron ponticum: The rhododendron? The rhododendron? Don’t talk to me about the rhododendron, mate. At least ask me something that’s relevant. Jeez, I can’t believe you’re honestly expecting me to say something about rhododendrons. You’re just a waste of space. O.K. That’s it. Finito. I’m the hell out of here. And fuck you, mate.

JAPANESE KNOTWEED, Fallopia japonica: The powers that be may have tried to write it off as the most pernicious weed in all of Britain, but that shows what a pack of bloody idiots they are. For me, Japanese knotweed is the ultimate example of a plant that’s been written off by everybody and has sunk just about as low as you can go, but has had the guts and vision to bounce back and stand proud and proclaim itself. “My name is Fallopia japonica, and don’t try to play any bullshit games with me, because if I catch you out I’ll never trust you again, and I can punch all you fucking pansies and roses and tulips into a corner, mate!”

NIGHTSHADE (DEADLY), Atropa belladonna: Sure, I eat it. When I was preparing for the role of Richie Roberts in American Gangster, I used to eat it twice a day and then I was physically sick over my fellow performers every morning for three months. Sure, they complained. It probably annoyed the hell out of them, but when they look at the finished film and they see my performance, well, they realize it’s a gold mine. And that’s all that matters.

—As TOLD TO CRAIG BROWN