It is a bright Tuesday in May, and the actor, all limbs and languid charm, is describing his morning. \u201cI luxuriated a bit, but not much, and got up at 8.15,\u201d he begins. \u201cI turned the music on, and today it was my blues playlist, \u2018Let Me Follow You Down\u2019.\u201d He beats out the five words with his fingers. Next: to his local cafe for those raw eggs. \u201cThis always makes the very nice lady who works there… well, she has to turn away. After that, I had a couple of savoury pastries and a banana. And I read about Obama, and I came to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n
All of this is delivered in Nighy\u2019s unmistakable purr; he doesn\u2019t say words so much as let them drift out of him with a shrug. <\/p>\n
It\u2019s often how he delivers his lines, too. You\u2019ve seen it in more than 80 films, when he played Love Actually<\/a>\u2019s scene-stealingly crass rocker Billy Mack, or in his understated, Oscar-nominated turn as a terminally ill bureaucrat in Living<\/a>, or his role as a warm, wise, time-travelling dad in About Time. <\/p>\n But it turns out the greatest role he\u2019s ever played is… himself. Bill Nighy is playing Bill Nighy to perfection right now, just as he does on his podcast ill-advised, a gentle audio gem where he gives advice to listeners who send in questions by voice note.<\/p>\n I became obsessed with the podcast when it launched last autumn, Nighy\u2019s chat about escaping crap parties and how to play air guitar becoming the soundtrack to my days. When I asked his people if he\u2019d be up for meeting to discuss it, it had to be in person, naturally: he recently announced on his podcast that he has retired from Zoom (it\u2019s impossible to actually imagine him \u2013 this suave flaneur in exquisite tailoring, spotted in cafes all around London reading Joan Didion \u2013 squished into a grid of squares on a screen). <\/p>\n \u201cZoom just makes me so unhappy,\u201d he says. \u201cZoom is over, as far as I\u2019m concerned. Everyone looks terrible, including me. Everyone looks like they\u2019re in a hostage situation. And everyone jumps in at the wrong moment.\u201d I\u2019d been tempted to ask for this interview to take place at his flat, not far from here, in Pimlico. \u201cNo, that would be weird. That would be weird and wrong,\u201d he says, relishing the \u201cg\u201d.<\/p>\n Instead, we meet for coffee in The Goring \u2013 staff at the front desk explain that Nighy always sits in the exact same spot \u2013 where he drinks a double espresso with sweetener (he says he\u2019s off sugar). He has the uncanny effect of somehow being a familiar, cosy international treasure, and also strikingly young-hearted and, well, cool. Talking to him is a surreal, disarming experience, like tuning in to a personalised episode of the podcast.<\/p>\n Ostensibly, ill-advised is an agony uncle show. In reality, it\u2019s an invitation for the \u201cclumsy and awkward\u201d among us to \u201csquander time\u201d with Nighy. He is asked all manner of things, and his morsels of guidance \u2013 invented on the spot \u2013 always come with the disclaimer that he will try, sort of, to \u201cnot actually make things worse\u201d. It\u2019s just finished its second season, and this month saw the launch of Nighy\u2019s subscriber channel, The Back Room, where, among other treats, listeners will have access to Nighy reading Between the Acts by Virginia Woolf over the podcast\u2019s summer break.<\/p>\n But the podcast almost never happened at all. It was conceived after a press junket in 2024, when Vogue filmed Nighy responding to questions posed by the public. It was so well received that his long-time publicist and friend, Ciara Parkes, persuaded him to make a whole show out of it. \u201cI was really uneasy about doing it,\u201d says Nighy, impeccably turned out in black spectacles, a navy wool sweater and pressed grey slacks. \u201cI pulled out three times at the very last minute, just to make everyone\u2019s lives more difficult.\u201d <\/p>\n Nighy is 76, and thinks this is why he is often mistaken for someone who knows what to do about things \u2013 although he was recently berated for being too slow to cross the road. \u201cI was shouted at by a young van driver,\u201d he says, more tickled by the encounter than traumatised. \u201cAnd you can imagine what he said. I\u2019m not going to say it. It\u2019s unrepeatable. But I thought, \u2018I see, that\u2019s where I stand now.\u2019\u201d <\/p>\n One reason he was reluctant to do the podcast was a fear that he would \u201cbe punished\u201d. It\u2019s not clear what he means by this exactly \u2013 made fun of? Cancelled? Either way, that didn\u2019t happen. \u201cMore people talk to me about the podcast now than anything else,\u201d he says. \u201cThough I always wait for which film they\u2019re going to refer to.\u201d He likes that the podcast\u2019s mission statement is \u201cto be as inconsequential as is humanly possible\u201d. \u201cIt just amuses me,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n Episodes are full of an endearingly British type of esoterica. With the help of his listeners, Nighy is accruing a list of words that should be banned from the English language. \u201cBotty b\u201d, aka bottomless brunch, is on there. Hearing Nighy say this phrase in his leisurely drawl, and dismiss it as \u201celaborately awful\u201d, is just as pleasing as you\u2019d imagine. \u201cMoist\u201d and \u201cpicky bits\u201d are forbidden, too. <\/p>\n Nighy\u2019s podcast is meant to comfort and entertain. It\u2019s certainly not the space for real, scary problems. One listener dilemma: if one is squeezing between restaurant tables, should one present one\u2019s crotch or one\u2019s bottom to the strangers at the next table? \u201cIt\u2019s always genitalia first,\u201d came Nighy\u2019s answer, delivered gravely. Weeks later, a canny listener called him out for not following his own advice. \u201cI was in my local cafe and I got busted,\u201d he says. \u201cThe woman on the other table said, \u2018Well, that\u2019s not what you said on your podcast!\u2019 Because I\u2019d given her\u201d \u2013 he pauses for dramatic effect \u2013 \u201cmy bum.\u201d<\/p>\n Nor is it the place for discussions about politics and culture wars. Such topics are deemed too serious. Although, in one recent episode, Nighy and a listener bemoaned how people always seem to say \u201cthings were better before\u201d. When I raise the subject now, he is animated. <\/p>\n \u201cYou would have had monks in the mid-16th century saying, \u2018It\u2019s all fallen apart since 1500, you know? In 1500, things were just great.\u2019 It\u2019s a perennial thing that human beings have a nostalgia for a time just before they were born. And therefore it\u2019s very easy to manipulate people in that way \u2013 all my life, people have been saying strange men will come across the border and they will have sex with your daughter and steal your job. It\u2019s not happening, it\u2019s never happened, but it\u2019s people\u2019s favourite.\u201d<\/p>\n He says we are especially easy to manipulate today because \u201cthe thing that was supposed to bring us all closer together, the digital world, has been weaponised and used for the exact opposite\u201d. \u201cI do occasionally think I\u2019m glad I was born when I was,\u201d he says. <\/p>\n Nighy arrived in 1949, the youngest of three. His mother was a psychiatric nurse; his father managed the garage that the family lived above. \u201cI\u2019m glad I was born before mobile phones. I was born at a time when they started to properly educate the children of the working class. I missed any kind of combat. I wasn\u2019t oppressed by technology until I was in my thirties. And I\u2019m wilfully and irresponsibly turning my mind off every time anyone says AI. Because I just can\u2019t take it.\u201d <\/p>\n He shakes his head. \u201cA few people will get very rich from it, and the rest of us will try to play catch-up and delay the moment our children are handed a mobile phone. Because you just know that they\u2019re never going to be the same after that.\u201d<\/p>\n There is an enormous disparity between what I think is happening and what in fact is happening; I\u2019ve had to get used to that <\/p>\n One of the things that ill-advised listeners have discovered about Nighy is how particular he is. And how eccentric. He never eats at home, ever. The only items in his fridge are sparkling water and milk. He doesn\u2019t drive. The best thing he ever did was quit smoking \u2013 he used to \u201csmoke for England, Ireland and Wales\u201d, he says, and could light a zipper on his beard. He loves to dance, especially naked, in his flat \u2013 \u201cbut it\u2019s better if you\u2019ve got shoes on, because then you can spin\u201d. <\/p>\n Sartorial matters are very important. He has told listeners: \u201cI don\u2019t want to stand next to anyone wearing linen.\u201d He also has very strong views on anyone daring to go sockless in London. I think he is only half joking about a lot of it. Whether said in jest or not, these pieces of information are actually quite intimate. Where does Nighy draw the line?<\/p>\n \u201cI try to avoid the third cup of coffee, because that unlocks one\u2019s mouth,\u201d he says. \u201cNo, but there is a line, and the line is generally to do with other people, because no one in my family or anyone I know has asked to be in a podcast.\u201d He occasionally mentions his daughter Mary\u2013 for example when recalling \u201cgoing ape\u201d on the dance floor at her 18th, more than two decades ago. But very little is known about his romantic life, which we don\u2019t discuss today. He was in a relationship with the actor Diana Quick for almost three decades until 2008, and she is Mary\u2019s mother. There were rumours a few years back that he had dated Anna Wintour, but these were always denied by his representatives.<\/p>\n The podcast is revealing, though; whether he\u2019s slightly performing or not, the show serves as a window into his psyche. Nighy may seem like a stone-cold chiller now \u2013 one of his catchphrases is \u201cstay loose\u201d \u2013 but his nickname used to be \u201cNerve\u201d. And he still struggles enormously with a lack of self-belief. \u201cI will project anything from humiliation to doom,\u201d he says. \u201cI don\u2019t know how it compares to other people because I\u2019ve never been anyone else, but my tendency to undermine myself has been, I think, quite extreme at times.\u201d <\/p>\n After he finishes a job, his brain decides it was a disaster. He calls this his \u201canti-talent\u201d. \u201cThere is an enormous disparity between what I think is happening and what in fact is happening; I\u2019ve had to get used to that.\u201d <\/p>\n He once opened a play on Broadway, and on opening night, saw his colleagues staring back with confusion at how terrible he was. Or so he thought. \u201cAt the curtain call, the theatre exploded and they started throwing flowers at us.\u201d He isn\u2019t so bad these days. \u201cI\u2019ve done certain jobs where I think, \u2018That\u2019s OK, and if somebody has a problem with that, it will have to remain their problem, because I don\u2019t.\u2019 For me, that\u2019s a huge development.\u201d <\/p>\n Given his laidback manner, it\u2019s a surprise to hear that Nighy has never been comfortable in his own skin. He used to shower in the dark so he wouldn\u2019t have to look at himself. \u201cI\u2019ve always wanted to be something or someone else in terms of my body,\u201d he says. \u201cBut I should be grateful. My body\u2019s been very good to me, and it\u2019s not let me down yet. There\u2019s nothing seriously grotesque about me, but it\u2019s just a bit sad, you know, I\u2019ve never enjoyed my body. It\u2019s why I don\u2019t have tattoos. I\u2019ve never thought my body worthy of decoration. I wouldn\u2019t want to draw attention to it, because there\u2019s nothing I like.\u201d <\/p>\n He seems more relaxed about ageing, though \u2013 apart from the fact that \u201cpeople start to die, which, strictly speaking, is absolutely awful\u201d \u2013 and has no interest in getting cosmetic work done like his Hollywood peers. \u201cI get employed for looking like this,\u201d he says. \u201cI play somebody\u2019s grandfather most of the time, or somebody who\u2019s dying.\u201d<\/p>\n There\u2019s something about Nighy that feels timeless, and deeply analogue \u2013 like he should only communicate via landline or fax. He walks everywhere and reads voraciously; in front of him on the table are The New Yorker and The New York Review of Books. He\u2019s been reading about Barack Obama\u2019s plans around AI legislation. And about the manosphere. \u201cMachismo,\u201d he says, \u201cis just another word for cowardice.\u201d But he does have a smartphone \u2013 and he picks it up several times to note down things that come up during our conversation, or to dig out a quote he\u2019s jotted down from someone famous. He builds all his playlists on there. And he\u2019s personalised his ringtone to be \u201cWhere Are We Now?\u201d by David Bowie. <\/p>\n Familiar and cosy, yet young-hearted and cool, Nighy has an endless curiosity and appetite for life. He\u2019s playing the role of Bill Nighy just right. <\/p>\n![\"Nighy\u2019s](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Screenshot-2026-05-28-at-11-59-12.png\")
Nighy\u2019s podcast is for \u2018the clumsy and awkward\u2019 among us to \u2018squander time\u2019 (Charlie Gray)<\/p>\n![\"Nighy](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/newFile-5.jpg\")
Nighy as washed-up pop star Billy Mack in \u2018Love Actually\u2019 (Universal)<\/p>\n![\"Nighy](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Screenshot-2024-11-29-at-16.14.46.jpg\")
Nighy was nominated for an Oscar for his role as a terminally ill bureaucrat in \u2018Living\u2019 (Lionsgate UK)<\/p>\n![\"Domhnall](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/shutterstock_editorial_3224950k.jpg\")
Domhnall Gleeson and Nighy in the romcom \u2018About Time\u2019 (Moviestore\/Shutterstock)<\/p>\n