Bill Nighy is single. He has never read a self-help book, had no intention of becoming an actor and briefly went deaf after putting toilet paper in his ears to get to sleep. He has shutters, not curtains, in his bedroom, but has no idea what time he wakes up. If you invite him to a dinner party he will bring you exfoliating products, except don’t invite him, because he won’t come. He is good at making custard, but doesn’t cook because he lives alone “and it would be too sad”.
The Surrey-born actor is as renowned for his suits as he is his singular ability to inhabit a role while remaining recognisably himself throughout. But almost 50 years into his career, Nighy is finally playing himself. A new podcast called Ill-advised casts the 75-year-old as an agony uncle, doling out advice and his innermost secrets to listeners from Italy to Mongolia to Scotland. The actor describes it as a “refuge for the clumsy and awkward”. But it’s gently becoming the cult podcast of the year. In the most recent episode, Nighy has even threatened to make merch.
Launched last month, the questions Nighy tackles range wildly, from how to avoid going to parties to “Why doesn’t my horse like me?” His advice is always conversational, generous and uncertain, with a sprinkling of his trademark self-deprecation. Each episode begins with various reasons why you shouldn’t listen to a word he says.
Callers come for the advice – his sybaritic cure for insomnia involving a marmite sandwich, two types of cake and a good book is one for the ages – but most stay for the digressive life stories. How he left home on the strength of a Bob Dylan album, and decades later ended up in possession of Dylan’s harmonica (the only other person to own one is Carla Bruni, who is apparently “still fighting” with Nicolas Sarkozy over it). Or how his commitment to smuggling Marmite on set saw him stopped twice at Heathrow customs. Or the origins of his trademark fidget – a mixture of nerves and obscuring the fact that he can’t act – which once led to him being marked out by the actor Donald Sinden for being the first person ever to act with their legs. His advice is compelling and digressive, but always with an edge. And one suspects his love of Marmite may have contributed to his singledom.
Celebrity podcasts are not new. Quite the reverse. Even Tom Hanks, the most private celebrity in Hollywood, has appeared on three separate podcasts this year. Whether guesting or hosting, they have become another requirement of the celebrity junket, one that gives the celeb more control because they can manage the context.
It’s a way of controlling the narrative, says Ben Kerr, chief executive of Cold Glass Productions, which makes Dish, the food podcast hosted by Nicholas Grimshaw and Angela Hartnett, which has featured interviews with Natalie Portman and Florence Pugh among others. “The best celebrity and celebrity-led podcasts put you in an intimate space and make you feel like you’re part of something bigger,” he says. The rise of streaming means “we’re missing those big, gather-round-the-TV moments” with “like-minded people”.
Take Stanley Tucci, who upended the internet with his negroni recipes during the pandemic, or the success of Fashion Neurosis with Bella Freud, in which the great-granddaughter of Sigmund Freud elicits intimate tales from A-listers while they lie on a couch – or, of course, Celebrity Traitors. “If you look at the most successful shows, it’s not always the famous people we like,” he says. “It’s the ones with a sense of fun, the ones that are honest, and with a personality, which in case of Bill is that of a stylish guy with a weird authority.”
As to why some land and some don’t, “it’s self-selecting”, says Kerr. “But it’s also about providing the right lens to draw people in.” It helps that it’s Nighy, a man who is surprisingly anti-drugs yet enjoys “saying fuck into a microphone”. The actor Johnny Flynn, who starred with Nighy in the 2020 adaptation of Emma, describes him as not only “one of the best people I’ve ever met” but also “viscerally honest and kind”. He tells the Guardian: “He reminds anyone he works with what life is really about.”
“We are living in the age of people never feeling more lonely, with more change – whether it’s lifestyle or tech – than ever,” says Kerr. “We’re looking for company, we want to spend time with our mates, and a good podcast can make you feel that.”
The authenticity of the medium makes you feel as if he’s talking directly to you, even if it’s a one-way relationship, the aural equivalent of getting into a warm bath with him. As Flynn concludes: “Bill is everyone’s agony uncle within five minutes of meeting him.”
Bill Nighy’s rules for living
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Keep collars long. Spread collars make him “uneasy”, and low-slung trousers are “unsettling”;
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Glasses are for hiding behind. Avoid coloured specs. His black-framed specs are Cutler and Gross;
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Every man should own a navy suit …
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… and Levi’s 501s – “just not too tight – don’t be weird”;
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The maximum age to get a first tattoo should be 12;
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No men should wear linen, and never think of going sockless;
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The words “beverage”, “moist” and “sheathed” should all be banned.
This article was amended on 21 November 2025. Bill Nighy said on his podcast that the maximum age to get a first tattoo should be 12, not the minimum age as an earlier version said.
