It’s been close to thirty years since Iain Lee explored the streets for Channel 4’s 11 O’Clock Show, equipped with a clipboard and microphone, a collection of outrageous questions concealed in his oversized suit sleeve. Now at 52, he has presumably evolved since his unforgettable interview with singer Cleo Laine regarding her husband’s habits in private. Yet perhaps not, since this summer Lee ventured back into the streets, where he pretended to perform oral sex on a 76-year-old man who claimed he had never felt attraction to men. A considerable amount of the material on the original show had homophobic tones, Lee admits, but he publicly identified as bisexual in 2019, suggesting he might now tread paths his younger self would have avoided.
Next month, Lee makes his comeback with Impostor Syndrome – his first solo live performance in a decade. The event is presented as a celebration of thirty years in the entertainment industry, yet it’s also a journey of self-discovery. In fact, he specifies, he’s “recovering from impostor syndrome.” This is a significant topic for Lee, who is a rehabilitated drug, sexual, and alcohol addict, now nearly five years clean. It is fair to note that his career has been marked by ups and downs – for a long time, it appeared that Jimmy Carr secured all the opportunities that Lee sought – and he has had a tumultuous personal life, much of which has been publicly shared.
“I don’t exactly have a filter,” he mentions. “So everything tends to spill out.” After transitioning from television to radio in 2005, his array of candid revelations included being subjected to sexual abuse by his cubmasters at age nine, coming out as bisexual, addressing his addictions, and revealing details about his divorce. During 2017’s I’m a Celebrity, he disclosed his past suicidal thoughts and called the Samaritans for help. In 2019, he experienced “an on-air breakdown”, during which he deemed his own TalkRadio show as meaningless. Before he speaks, I recall from listening to his Patreon podcast a few nights back that he’s been attempting to shed pounds for the photoshoot – “Holy shit, man! Did I say that?”, he remarks, raking his fingers through his hair – and that he’s recently proposed to his long-time best friend, co-host, and producer Katherine Boyle on a boat in Lake Como. (She accepted.)
Since 2022, Lee has been a trained counsellor, having retrained partially in response to some of the aforementioned life events. The blue-painted lounge visible to his Patreon subscribers also serves as a “counselling room” for his 20 clients. However, a few months ago, he called Katherine. “I mentioned, ‘I’ve just booked a night at the Stables [venue in Milton Keynes].’ She reacted, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I replied, ‘I don’t know, but something is happening.’”
Something is happening?
“A shift has occurred,” he states. He felt this sensation before The 11 O’Clock Show gained momentum in 1998. He envisioned, “Myself in a grey suit with a microphone and a crowd of people behind me.” Although he can’t see it this time, “I sense something’s about to unfold. Something’s on the way.”
Impostor Syndrome features a watchalong of The 11 O’Clock Show. His mother saved every episode on VHS, storing them in boxes within the garage. But this year, he digitized them. His social media feeds are filled with his archived content. I can’t help but question if he’s clinging to his past – or beginning to reconcile with it. What prompts his return to those memories?
“I’m making peace with my history,” he replies. “I never took pride in my television career; I regarded it as subpar.”
He was “lucky and unlucky” to have Sacha Baron Cohen, Ricky Gervais, Daisy Donovan, and Mackenzie Crook among his co-stars on The 11 O’Clock Show. (He remains in touch only with Crook, his former flatmate.)
“I measured myself against Sacha and Ricky. It’s a futile pursuit … I harbored a lot of bitterness and resentment towards them. I often thought, ‘They’ve usurped my career.’ Naturally, that was far from the truth. They were unique phenomena.”
He didn’t shake off those feelings until he reached his 40s. “If there was anyone sabotaging my career, it was me,” he admits. “I was heavily into drugs and had become extremely unreliable and difficult to work with … a jerk.”
The apprehension lingered that “I truly don’t know what I’m doing… hence my reliance on cocaine, which provided me with a false sense of confidence. It appeared as arrogance, yet it stemmed from profound fear.”
It’s challenging to reconcile this with the brash individual in a cheap suit who posed the uncomfortable questions on The 11 O’Clock Show. Even Cleo Laine reached out post-interview to express, “Thank you. I enjoyed that.” His interviews were exceptional.
“You see, it makes me uneasy to hear you say that,” he reflects, “because there’s a part of me still grappling with, Is that accurate? I’ve been conditioned to think that I’m not good and am a horrible person. Thus, when you make such remarks …”
He feels uneasy inside?
“No, this brings me to tears. That’s more than half my existence. For such a long time, that poor kid, that poor version of me, believed I was worthless,” he states. “My history has been chaotic from an early age. Experiencing sexual abuse – that never benefits anyone. Then there was ADHD [diagnosed six years ago, alongside bipolar disorder], along with profound uncertainty about my sexuality and a hidden gay side. My fear of being outed was overwhelming…”
So, as he reviews those old recordings, “I suppose I’m returning to communicate with my eight-year-old self, my twelve-year-old self, and my twenty-four-year-old self, to convey that, in fact, you’re not valueless, and you’re genuinely skilled at certain things. I suppose it’s a way of reconciling with myself.”
Lee “was raised in a working-class family” on the Britwell council estate in Slough. His mother started as a school secretary, later becoming a PA at a chemical firm before receiving a multiple sclerosis diagnosis. His father worked in the BBC props department and once acquired a Dalek, hiding it in the garage, pushing Lee and his sister around in it. He introduced Lee to Tom Baker and the set of The Young Ones.
It’s unexpected to hear these cheerful recollections. Lee has previously indicated a troubled relationship with his father.
“He had many flaws. Certainly a sex addict,” he admits. “I still don’t know how many siblings I have … We had a long estrangement.”
Lee refrains from disclosing details about the sexual abuse he suffered in the cub scouts in Slough. He has provided a statement to law enforcement, along with other men, and intends to pursue legal action against the Scouts. What he can express is that the effects of abuse “shaped my perception of older men throughout my life. That influenced my relationship with my dad. I could never open up to him.”
A striking incident occurred when Lee was 23. His father was shooting a film called Jinnah in Pakistan, and Lee accompanied him.
“I was Christopher Lee’s stand-in. Picture that. We were in Pakistan. And [my father] informed me, ‘Your uncle Don has had a severe motorcycle accident. I fear he might not survive. I must return and see him.’ I reacted, ‘That’s dreadful!’”
After his father departed, Lee’s colleagues approached to congratulate him. “I responded, ‘What?’ They said, ‘You’re expecting a baby brother, right?’”
It’s distinctly a monumental lie, yet Lee seems uncertain when he questions, “That was a terrible lie, wasn’t it? A horrible lie?” His father had “gone to witness the birth of another child … But I didn’t speak up when he returned.”
He didn’t confront him?
“I couldn’t.”
Even during his father’s visit to the set of The 11 O’Clock Show a couple of years later, Lee “adopted a very quiet subservient demeanor.”
But then, he notes, “I returned home, used some cocaine, and called him. I managed to express all these emotions. He continued hanging up on me, and I persistently called back. I asked, ‘Tell me how many brothers and sisters I possess!’” He’s nearly shouting now. Lee didn’t receive a response. Yet, posing the question “had shattered the spell.”
Lee is also a father to two sons, aged 15 and 13, from his marriage to broadcaster Helena Wilkinson, which concluded in 2018. Given the ramifications of his father’s addictions, does he have concerns regarding his own addictive patterns affecting his children?
“Naturally, I do worry. That’s partly why I’ve shared all of this.”
After Ant McPartlin’s car crash in 2018, his sons approached him and inquired, “Are you acquainted with Ant and Dec? Do you understand what an alcoholic is?”
It took Lee a few more years to gather the fortitude to reveal to them, “‘Boys, you know I abstain from drinking? Ever contemplated why? It’s because I’m an alcoholic. If I commence drinking, I cannot cease. And if I start, I’ll probably use drugs as well.’
“And they responded, ‘Oh my God, have you ever used drugs?’ We had an open conversation. I hope they won’t face the same self-hatred, and if they have any inquiries about their sexuality or encounter drugs, they’ll understand that I have navigated that path,” he states. “They’ll realize there’s a different route.”
Lee’s parenting experience has evidently been transformative. Perhaps even a type of rebirth. He was born Iain Lee Rougvie but eliminated Rougvie before tying the knot. His surname was challenging to articulate, “and that was during a time of estrangement from my father. I rue that choice now.”
Several years ago, he comments, “I allowed my children the privilege of bestowing my middle names upon me.” The boys settled on “Felix” and “Diamond”, inspired by DanTDM, a YouTuber they admired. “I said, ‘Boys, you can be as creative as you wish … My complete legal name is Iain Felix Diamond Lee.”
It’s such a touching narrative, and I ponder if Lee managed to reconcile with his father?
“I discovered some items of his in a box at my apartment,” he recalls. This occurred in 2012. “We arranged to meet at a café. I entered … and he appeared aged. In that moment, I was no longer intimidated by him, and we engaged in a genuinely pleasant conversation. I’m going to tear up,” he admits, yet he presses on.
“I recounted anything I could recall that caused me pain. At that time, I was involved in Narcotics Anonymous. “And I expressed, ‘You know what? I forgive you for that.’ I even apologized for losing my temper when under the influence of cocaine. Eventually, I concluded, ‘Alright. I’m not ready to refer to you as Dad yet, but perhaps there’s something worthwhile here…’
“Shortly after that, he called me and said, ‘I’ve developed cancer.’ He passed away, I believe, within a year. He deserted me once more!” Lee exclaims, raising his voice. “He abandoned me again! And that was heart-wrenching! Some couldn’t comprehend – ‘But you despised him all your life’ – yet we were concurrently reaching a resolution.” He gazes out the window as the rain falls in thin, gray sheets.
“I’ve experienced good moments,” he states. “I’ve encountered joyous occasions.”
You just got engaged, I remind him.
Boyle has been his companion since their encounter at BBC Three Counties Radio in 2012. She was present for the episode of The Late Night Alternative during which he experienced his “kind of breakdown,” during which he also apologized for sharing personal images with certain listeners.
“Feel free to inquire about the photos,” he remarks. “I don’t want to sound like Russell Brand stating, ‘Well, it was all consensual,’ but it was all consensual.” Boyle has stood by him through thick and thin.
“She’s an extraordinary individual, and I consider myself fortunate that she’s my fiancée. I’m going to tear up again!” he admits. “I’ve subjected her to so much.”
Many pivotal events in Lee’s recent journey – including his relapse, coming out, and his decision to retrain – have coalesced around 2019. That February, he was involved in a car crash on the M40 when another vehicle collided with his.
“I exited the vehicle, filled with rage. ‘What the hell was that, man?’ Then we glanced behind his car, discovering a motorbike that had crashed into it, revealing a man lying on the ground. It was absolutely horrifying.”
Someone removed the man’s helmet, and another person performed mouth-to-mouth. Lee clasped the man’s hand. “And I’m shouting, ‘Don’t you dare die, man! Stay with us, please!’” A few months earlier, Lee had helped keep a suicidal caller talking, potentially saving his life. In this moment, he assumed a role of rescuer, possibly feeling he was riding alongside death. The man survived, albeit with lasting injuries.
“And, to be honest, it shattered me. I stammer when discussing it. I thought, this is my fault. This motivated me to enter therapy – I believed I bore the blame… and that’s when my therapist said, ‘Are you aware of your bisexuality?’ And clearly, I was bisexual.”
In June 2020, Talk Radio decided not to renew Lee’s contract. “Katherine reassured me, ‘Don’t stress. You’re Iain Lee. A call will come your way.’ Unfortunately, for the first time since 1998, the phone didn’t ring. Not once,” he admits softly.
Within a few months, he embarked on training to become a counsellor – during which a psychiatrist diagnosed him with ADHD and bipolar disorder. It certainly felt like a lot to absorb in a brief period, but, Lee states, “It was wonderful! It transformed everything. I began to make sense of it all.”
I can’t help but ponder what Lee genuinely desires now. In addition to Impostor Syndrome, he has suggested reviving The 11 O’Clock Show and is managing the band The Man From Delmonte. However, “I’m pursuing it merely because I think it will be enjoyable,” he reflects. “It may sound cheesy, but I’m secure enough to manage my bills… I’ve never experienced such a sincere, transparent relationship… I have a wonderful rapport with my sons… I’m experiencing more fulfillment than ever before.”
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Iain Lee’s Impostor Syndrome is set for the Stables, Milton Keynes, on 5 October, and at the Rondo Theatre in Bath on 7 February 2026.
