It seemed romantic but also tragic – people would be winning but then lose it all, or crash but fight on, break bones but get back on their bikes and try to finish. Just getting to the end was seen as an achievement in itself.

I’ve been proud to be national champion.

In Italy it’s full-on stardom when you’re a cyclist – eating in restaurants for free, it’s great.

I’ve been proud to be national champion. I’ve really enjoyed it. I have very little opportunity to remind people that I’m British and it’s a nice way of staying in touch. I’m going to defend it fiercely. I want to keep it.

To be brutally honest, it’s simple economics. If they want to come into cycling, sponsors need to know the team they are funding is clean, otherwise the risk is just too great.

My epiphany came in that police cell: I realized I was about to lose everything and it didn’t bother me, not in the slightest. I’d come to hate cycling because I blamed it for the lie I was living.

I’m an accumulation of every single thing I’ve done, good and bad.

I shave my legs twice a week. It’s hard the first time you do it. But I’m very lazy. For a team photo in December I just did the fronts.

Often the best guys are just those that can suffer longer, who don’t give up. And it’s so easy to give up, when you’re on a mountain and it’s really hurting. We go through a lot physically.

But human nature dictates that there will always be cheaters. That’s inevitable. Where there’s money involved and glory, there are going to be people that cheat, and there will always be ways to cheat.