An interesting feature of journalism is that your preconceptions about interview subjects are constantly being turned on their head. Preparing to interview Neil Morrissey – erstwhile star of none-more-laddish sitcom, Men Behaving Badly, voice of animated children’s favourite Bob The Builder, and prized photo subject of the Fleet Street paparazzi – I had expected to encounter a rakish, self-regarding character, eminently susceptible to believing his own hype, and certainly unlikely to take much interest in the economic and social regeneration of post-war Afghanistan.

However, throughout our conversation in Fitzer’s restaurant, Temple Bar, Morrissey reveals himself to be a surprisingly thoughtful and engaging individual, his initial wariness of journalistic angles (a deep-set cynicism induced by his hounding at the hands of the tabloid press during a brief affair with Amanda Holden four years ago) gradually giving way to a warm and insightful friendliness.
To be honest, it’s not that difficult to forgive Morrissey his guardedness at the outset of our interview. Aside from his well-documented flings with Holden and actress Rachel Weisz (most recently seen in Neil LaBute’s scorching 2003 film, The Shape Of Things), the actor has also had to contend with relentless press interest in his tumultuous past.
The son of Irish emigrants who relocated to Stoke in the late ’50s, Morrisey and his siblings were separated from their parents on the cusp of adolescence, when a routine social services inspection of the family home led to a date in court, and the eventual placing of the Morrissey children into state care.
Neil didn’t see much of his brothers for the remainder of his childhood (and much of his adulthood life). Indeed, he had only just re-established correspondence with his older brother, Stephen, before the latter’s premature death in 1997 (a horrific motorcycle accident having sent him on a downward spiral of alcoholism and depression). Only weeks later – and utterly unexpectedly – Morrissey’s father passed away from a heart attack on a golf-course in Cyprus, leaving his third son “absolutely distraught”.
Insofaras one can ever overcome the untimely deaths of a parent and a brother, these days Morrissey looks to have put such upheaval behind him. Visiting Dublin in his capacity as chairman of the charity organisation No Strings – the Afghan-concentrated project which received the proceeds from the Irish premiere of the Julie LeBroquoy-produced Osama, – the actor and entrepreneur (Morrissey has interests in a number of pubs and restaurants, as well as a chain of hotels) proved to be in lively, humourous and provocative form during our tête-à-tête.

PAUL NOLAN: You’re in town to attend the Osama premiere on behalf of the No Strings charity. Can you tell us a little bit about the organisation?
NEIL MORRISSEY: Right, well it’s a puppetry project to bring about more awareness of the landmine problem within Afghanistan. The puppet is an incredibly potent way of relaying information to children within Third World countries. It’s a powerful enough tool over here, but you bring out a puppet in the middle of a refugee camp and it attracts an awful lot of attention. So, we’re attempting to realise this project in conjunction with a company called OMAR, which is the biggest mine-clearance NGO in Afghanistan. At the moment we’re struggling to get sufficient financial backing, but we’ve managed to bring onboard people like Michael Frith and Kathy Mullen – who created Fraggle Rock – to design the show, which hopefully will convey the kind of information which Afghan kids need to stay alive right now.
Would you say you’re a philanthropist by nature?
Oh, I’d say there’s a touch of the philanthropist in me alright! Previous to this, I was involved with Care International and Warchild, amongst others. In fact, it was Johnnie McGlade from Warchild who got me involved with No Strings. The thing is, though, that I’ve got to do something of a balancing act, because I’d be useless to anyone unless I can keep up the profile. I mean, no matter which way you cut it, the column inches tend to be the thin end of the wedge when it comes to getting things done. It’s hugely important when it comes to raising money, getting media personalities involved and also attracting press attention. So, I tend to split my time between acting and charity work, plus I’ve got a production company, a couple of pubs and an expanding hotel business, so things can get pretty hectic.
Has your involvement with No Strings politicised you? Were you opposed to the war in Iraq?
Well, we try as much as possible to be a non-governmental organisation. Certainly, politicians are the ones holding the reins in a lot of hugely problematic situations around the globe. But yeah, obviously I would disagree with the war in Afghanistan. And with regards to Iraq, for Britain and America to charge in there without broad international support, and act in an essentially unilateral fashion, I don’t think that’s ever going to be a good way to go about these things. I think – and I should stress that this is just my personal perspective – when you declare war on these countries, there is always, always the strong possibility that one rat will escape and come back and bite you. In so far as is possible, you’ve got to negotiate them out of the way. And I don’t think those avenues had been fully explored where Iraq was concerned.
To move on to less weighty matters, were you surprised by the huge success of Men Behaving Badly?
You know something, when Harry Enfield dropped out and I was subsequently offered the part, I really couldn’t believe that Harry didn’t want to do it anymore, because I thought the script was fantastic. And then I joined the series, and in its first year it won an award for Best New Comedy. Then, inexplicably, ITV put it on the shelf, so we sat at home for a year not making it. Thankfully the BBC came in and bought it, and from there the show was a runaway success.
I suppose an important element of the programme was that there was great chemistry between the four of us from the off. We still have a good relationship; in fact I regularly indulge in textual intercourse with everyone! Obviously I do the Homebase adverts with Leslie Ash, and I’m planning to meet up with Martin Clunes quite soon.
Speaking of Leslie Ash, what on earth was she thinking with those botox lip injections?
Well, I can’t speak for her, but you can’t legislate for error when you go to have these procedures. I think rather than Leslie making a bad decision – because, let’s face it, so many people have surgery these days – it was just a case of a poorly performed operation. But I don’t know, I’m no expert on these matters! I do know that she was quite upset at the time, because obviously the press picked up on it, which is just another example of tabloid hacks obsessing over the most trivial stuff. I mean, is Leslie’s surgery really that important when we’re about to go to war with Iraq?! Anyway, everything’s back to normal these days and Leslie’s looking as splendid as she ever did!
Men Behaving Badly seemed to typify the mid/late-’90s laddish culture as glorified in Loaded, FHM, Britpop, Fantasy Football etc. Were you comfortable with that tag?
You see, the thing is – and I know I’m picking a fight here – I don’t really think Men Behaving Badly was a laddish show! I always felt it was more about women, and how they deal with men. The women constantly won out; they were the ones who were perpetually showing us how to behave. I kind of felt that there was a certain naivety to the characters played by Martin and myself, I don’t think there was a bad bone in their bodies. They were never malicious or malevolent, they were sarcastic to each other in a laddish sort of way I suppose, but they were essentially losers. Whereas with the women, one was a nurse and the other was a restaurant manager. They worked hard and they were successful. I mean, I really don’t think our characters had that kind of swaggering machismo you found in a lot of the “lad” culture, be it Oasis or Loaded.
Famously, Men Behaving Badly was authored by a sole writer, Simon Nye. This is a massive contrast to the American system, where teams of up to thirteen or fourteen writers – what Ben Elton calls “comedy attack squads” – are recruited to work on each show. Which do you think is the better approach?
Well, I think the salient point is that there are perhaps only two or three decent American comedy shows, the rest of it is absolute rubbish which we thankfully don’t have to see over here. I think the main problem with the American system is that everyone is essentially trying to make the one kind of show – certainly on the big networks – and you end up without a single voice to give the whole thing some coherency. All you have is just a series of gags, which are often pretty lame, and these ridiculous attempts at pathos, where we’re asked to sympathise with someone who’s chipped a nail or something.
The great thing about having Simon Nye write Men Behaving Badly was that you did get an opinion and a individual perspective on society, albeit layered beneath what was happening with the plot. But at least you’re getting one person’s mind exposed, as opposed to twelve or thirteen people generating this sort of soulless gabble.
In fairness, you yourself have worked with some people who’ve mastered the form. You had a part in Graham Linehan and Arthur Mathews’ apprentice effort in the world of sitcom, Paris. How did you find that experience?
It was a great time, mainly because Graham and Arthur are such fantastic writers. The series itself bombed, and I’ve no idea why, because I thought it was brilliant. Alexei Sayle had the lead part, and Alexei’s a bit difficult to control because he’s hugely into improvisation and he wouldn’t stay in the same place for each take; the cameramen had a bit of a hard time trying to pin him down. But that whole experience was brilliant fun, I think we were all learning the ropes on sitcom to a certain extent. I remember I was out with Arthur on the night he got his Groucho Club membership. We were all incredibly keen just to see what it was like, and that was, er, quite a memorable evening!
You also did a film with Mel Gibson shortly after graduating from drama school.
That’s right, it was called The Bounty. I was 20 years old, and as you say, straight out of drama school. I spent my 21st birthday in Tahiti, playing a part in this film starring not just Mel Gibson, but also – let’s see – Anthony Hopkins, Laurence Olivier, Daniel Day-Lewis, Liam Neeson, Edward Fox and Dexter Fletcher. I knew I’d landed on my feet, let me tell you!
How did Gibson strike you as a character?
He was brilliant, but fairly intense. I think he’s been struggling with quite a troubled soul over the years. Interestingly, he wasn’t religious at all in those days, and now he’s an ultra-orthodox Catholic. That’s what Hollywood does to you! This was back in 1984, and he had four kids – I think he has eight today – and that was obviously a source of some comfort to him. I mean, when stars of his stature go to work, they go to work; there’s no fucking around.
I remember Paul Thomas Anderson, who directed Boogie Nights, being asked what it was like to work with Tom Cruise, and he said, “You know he’s going to show up on time – in fact, he’s probably going to show up early – and he’s going to be prepared. He knows what fucking time it is.” And I guess that, to me at least, says quite a bit about people like Gibson. But, you know, I found him to be fundamentally a really nice bloke.
What was it like working with Olivier?
Educative. I turned up on set one day when he was being filmed, and he was getting quite frail at the time, and he said to the director, Roger Donaldson, “Have you got an autocue, darling? It’ll save you fucking millions!” (Laughs) It was his last movie, and he couldn’t remember lines very well at that point, so he was constantly having to work off autocue and prompt boards. But he was still brilliant. And again, a great man to spend time with and you’d learn lot if you were paying attention.
I also met Richard Burton, incidentally on his last ever film too. Incredibly sweet bloke, but troubled. You know, he’d experienced the vagaries of fame with his marriage to Elizabeth Taylor, he wanted to be a great Shakespearean actor and yet he ended up doing these films which I think he felt were beneath him in a way. He was a highly intelligent man, a frustrated intellectual I would have thought. Of course, the net result of all this was that he became an alcoholic.
Do you see a lot of that amongst actors?
Yes, which is why I have a small hotel empire and a pub! They keep me occupied. As the old saying goes, “Other work keeps you out of the bars, unless you go and buy a few!” But you’re better able to deal with the down-time and the fallow periods when you have outside interests, no question.
Did you worry about how your involvement with Bob The Builder would be perceived? There’s a definite stigma attached to doing kids’ TV.
I wasn’t worried at all. I’ve done everything from kids’ TV and commercials to Shakespeare and David Mamet in the West End. As an actor, you’re seriously limiting yourself career-wise if you the perimeters you give yourself to operate in are too narrow. I mean, in many ways acting is just the tip of the iceberg in the industry, there’s a whole pile of work there underneath for people if they’re willing to do it. Now, I was lucky enough to land a job on a Mel Gibson movie straight out of drama school, but very few us are going to enjoy that luxury each time out, so you have to be prepared to diversify. And, I mean, Bob The Builder is the children’s phenomenon of the past ten years, it’s broadcast in 160 countries world-wide. So, I think it was probably one of the smarter moves I’ve made!
Your son is now fourteen years old. How does he feel about having a famous dad?
Well, he’s in a private school in North London, so he wouldn’t necessarily be the only kid in his class with a well-known father. But I dunno, I’ve never really talked to him about what effect it has if I reach No.1 with Bob The Builder! I think he deals with it fine, but I guess the whole press intrusiveness element can sometimes be a bit of a hassle. Although I suppose that’s the nature of the tabloids; on the one hand they take but on the other hand they give.
They can a do huge exposé – or, more accurately, a character assassination – on someone on page one, and then a few pages later they’re giving away £300,000 to charity. I do have to say, though, that I don’t necessarily agree with the way they operate, because the level of truth is often pretty scant. But you can’t really prosecute, because there’s always a “good friend”, a “close insider”, who’s supposedly supplied them with the story. So they can be quite vindictive, but I suppose ultimately I can’t complain, because I do go to them when I need publicity. There’s a definite trade-off.
I’ve read that when you yourself were just 10, you and your brothers were taken away from your parents without any prior notice – the magistrate simply read out the ruling in court and you were immediately placed into care.
Yeah, I was sat in court, 10 years old, the judge said something like, “We’re placing a care order on you.” Initially, I thought, “This is good, he’s finished and we get to go home now.” Next thing I know, my mum and dad went out one door, myself and my brother went out another door, and I didn’t actually see my brother for another ten years. Jesus, it was dreadful. But the weird thing was that once I’d adapted to the new situation, I didn’t feel particularly oppressed by it. I think children have an incredible capacity to accept change; as soon as your parents are gone, you really do start to accept that this is the reality of your life now, and that you just have to deal with it.
Do you think that your mother and father were essentially nice people, but perhaps unsuited to parenting?
Yes, probably. I mean, my parents were very popular in the local community. My mum’s still around, she lives in the village in Wales where I’ve got a pub and one of my hotels, and she’s very well liked. You see, the thing is, I’ve got a bit of a fractured past, so it’s difficult in company – well, if you let it be – when it comes to discussing your family life. Like, each Christmas I get asked, like anyone, “Are you heading home for a few days?” And I go, “I don’t know, maybe. I’ll see where the wind takes me.” I don’t really feel that compulsion everyone else does to get back home for the big celebrations, like the trout heading back to the spawning ground!
But I certainly don’t harbour any resentment towards my parents. They were slightly neglectful I guess, but I suppose when you take their background in Ireland into consideration, it’s probably more understandable. Living there, I’m sure it was okay to let your kids out down the street to play. You probably didn’t have to worry about them so much, because the neighbours would keep an eye on them and what have you. Whereas, on a council estate in Stoke, it’s perhaps a slightly more risky approach.
Your brother and father died within a short time of each other in 1997. Was that the most difficult period of your life?
It was a huge shock, and yes, very painful. Not just because of the complications of my own family history, but just the natural shock of two people passing away so suddenly. I mean, with my dad, we had no idea. Absolutely none. He was fit and healthy, or so we assumed. He died on a golf-course out in Cyprus. He’d just finished the sixteenth hole in the company of two of his friends – he didn’t even need to play the last two holes ’cos he’d already won – and he took the money off his mates to get the round in up in the clubhouse while they finished off, and then out of nowhere, he fell to ground, dead before he’d even hit the floor. He’d suffered a massive aneurysm.
But I suppose when one of your parents dies, at least it introduces you to the full circle of life; my dad’s dead, but now I’ve got children, my brothers have got children, so you can take a more philosophical view of it in that sense. But obviously it still hurts enormously.
What were the circumstances of your brother’s death?
With my brother, it was a different situation. He had a horrendous motorbike accident at one point, where pretty much every bone in his skull was mashed. It was truly awful stuff; he had compound fractures in his femur and the tib and fib on both legs, everyone bone in his knuckle and hands had been smashed, the helmet and his head were crushed – he was left for dead. Subsequent to that, he developed severe mental health problems, and he even lived on the streets for a period. I’d only seen him a handful of times in the ten years or so before he died.
Was that a source of regret to you?
Kind of, but you can’t carry that stuff forward with you. It was due to circumstance; no matter what efforts I’d have made in those days, I just wouldn’t have been able to see him anymore than I did – it really wouldn’t have worked. I mean, we were still reasonably close, we used to write to each other and talk on the phone quite regularly, so there was at least some kind of relationship there that I could look back on. And that definitely helped when I was grieving his death. But in terms of getting past that final barrier and really having a regular kind of interaction with him, unfortunately it was a kind of impossible situation, and there was just too many difficulties there for things to really work.
Notoriously, you had an affair four years ago with Les Dennis’ wife, Amanda Holden. Were you surprised at the level of press interest your relationship attracted?
(Dripping with sarcasm) I don’t know, they must have been short of stories that week. Or else I was rating very highly at the time on the list of people they wanted to expose in some way. But yeah, it was a surprise at first, and then it was really intrusive and horrid for a while, and basically I couldn’t go anywhere. I was being followed, and my phones were being tapped, and…(disgusted) it was fucking awful. I felt like a fucking criminal, and I hadn’t done anything. (Irritated) I’ve since put the story right, and that’s all I’m gonna say about it.
Did you feel any regret over the affair?
Never have regrets for your actions. There are always explanations for why people do these things. And again, there was a fucking media frenzy. They just fill themselves ‘til they’re fit enough to burst, and then they leave you alone again. And also, there’s an incredible amount of pompous moralising and hypocrisy. I have faith that people are intelligent enough to see through all that stuff and realise that it’s just there to sell some papers. It’s a transient thing, it’s four years ago now and most people have completely forgotten all the nonsense that was written at the time.
Did you ever consider suing anyone during that period?
If the coverage had got libellous – if it came to the point where they were damaging my chances of getting work – then yes, I would have sued. As it happens, it’s a non-story. It really was so blown out of proportion that it was ridiculous. And in any case, it launched Amanda’s career, more or less. I mean, it would have happened anyway – she’s a gorgeous and talented woman – but that publicity certainly got her name out into the public arena, and she was able to build from there.
Have your experiences with the tabloids made you warier of people’s motives generally?
Well, I’m often wary of strangers now. You’ve seen how entrapment works with celebrities, you have to be aware of how these things are done. Like, you see that poor bloke, John what’s-his-name, they put him in a hotel, and get some made-up Arab guy to go and score him some cocaine. And this is all totally fabricated stuff, they’ve got the place wired for sound and miniature video cameras set up everywhere. You’ve got to be really careful when people come up and approach you. In my case, I’m hyper-vigilant with women particularly, because that’s what they want to get me on – they always want to photograph me with my latest girlfriend. It’s a banal little game they’ve got going on, it’s quite boring actually.
Do you think your philandering…
(Interrupting) I would never call myself a philanderer, and I resent the fact that you just did!
Well, in fairness Neil, you have dated a lot of young starlets in your time…
That’s not philandering, that’s courting! And besides, would you prefer if I wasn’t seeing young starlets, and dating…I dunno, Bella Emberg?!
Okay, are you in a happy, stable relationship these days?
Absolutely, I’m a contented man, and…(pauses) that’s all I’ve got to say about that! b

For further information on No Strings, contact [email protected]