Paul O'Grady on why he's a devil in disguise

Ask him one question and he’s off, like Red Rum on Grand National day, galloping into a field of subjects ranging from his new live chat show on ITV1 (Friday 9pm) and the rows he had over leaving Channel 4, to the second instalment of his autobiography, The Devil Rides Out, his likes, dislikes, ups, downs, trials and tribulations.

Yet the Liverpudlian comedian and chat show host, who made his name as acerbic drag queen Lily Savage, admits he has mellowed with age and doesn’t allow himself to get as angry as he used to, biting his tongue more often… although you’d never know it listening to him.

Today, the 55-year-old lives alone with a menagerie of animals in his beautiful six-bedroom farmhouse in Kent and has a companion of five years, Andre.

It’s a rural haven away from the hectic world of TV and his new chat show, Paul O’Grady Live, on ITV1.

He’s pleased to have returned to live television, which allows him more freedom after the 9pm watershed, but is adamant he’s not going to get into trouble. “It’s not contentious. I’m going to come in, do the job, get my money and go home.”

Yet he has often courted controversy for his angry outbursts, mainly directed at people in authority.

He quit his teatime Channel 4 show last year under a cloud, saying that budget cuts made the show unsustainable, and has returned to ITV five years after saying he would never work for them again.

“Take no notice of me,” he says. “I say all sorts, but I can’t hold a grudge to save my life.”

While he would once have stuck two fingers up at those in authority who irritated him, now he insists he’s calmer, especially following two heart attacks.

“I let things go all the time – you’ve got to, or you just tie yourself up in knots. I don’t lie in bed fretting and worrying.”

Following the runaway success of At My Mother’s Knee, the first volume of his autobiography published two years ago, The Devil Rides Out (Bantam £20), the second in the trilogy, takes readers from his days as a rebellious teenager in Birkenhead through his various jobs and early days of Lily Savage.

The influence of strong women around him, particularly his mother and her sisters, is ever present.

He worked in children’s homes and for social services, got involved in the drag queen club circuit, married a Portuguese lesbian barmaid who needed a work permit (they were married for 28 years but never lived together) and transformed himself into Lily Savage, who he’ll be bringing back in panto this Christmas in Southampton.

But one event in the book that was to have a huge impact on his life was the birth of his daughter, Sharyn.

He was only 17 when his girlfriend, Diane, became pregnant.

“People might wonder how a gay man managed to father a daughter, but I was a highly promiscuous teenager,” Paul has said.

While he didn’t completely desert Diane initially, he felt distant and detached from his newborn daughter.

“I kept waiting, hoping for a rush of fatherly love as I lifted her nervously out of the cot. She was a sweet little thing, yet I felt distant.”

He recalls: “I was a very immature 17-year-old when I found out, and the whole thing just terrified me. My dad had just died and my mum was seriously ill in hospital.

“I had a lot to deal with, which I kept to myself. There was nobody to talk to, so it was particularly hard. I just went about my business and worried. The Catholic guilt took over.”

He escaped to London for a short time to stay with a couple of gay friends and was introduced to people on the drag act circuit, before returning to his mother’s with no money.

He visited Sharyn regularly but still felt distant and wasn’t around much when she was growing up.

Later, when Sharyn sought him out, their relationship blossomed and he relished the role of proud father, giving her away as a bride.

Now, he says his relationship with his daughter, who still lives in Liverpool, is “smashing”.

“She’s got two kids now and I see her all the time. I’m Grandpa. They call me ‘Gangan’ which sounds like a terrible tropical disease. Abel’s three and he speaks French with a Scouse accent. Halo is nearly one.”

He obviously dotes on them – they often stay with him in Kent and he goes back to Liverpool to visit.

“They’ve made a difference to my life. I don’t know if this is a male thing, a primeval instinct, but you feel like you’re keeping the chain going. And I can afford to look after them now, which I couldn’t back then.”

Paul also reveals in the book his 28-year marriage to a Portuguese lesbian called Theresa. “I worked with her in a bar. She had strict Catholic parents who wanted her to settle back home. I thought, ‘She’ll have to get married’, so I offered.

“I never got anything out of it – I even provided the wedding buffet – but she was a good friend.

“We worked together for about a year afterwards but didn’t live together. The second club I worked in was a lesbian bar and they all loved me because I’d done one of their own a big favour. We kept in touch for years.”

Some 28 years later, after Paul became successful and following his first heart attack, his solicitor advised him to divorce.

“If I was living in poverty earning nothing, I wouldn’t have bothered,” he now reflects.

His new book does not include details of the 25-year relationship he had with his partner Brendan Murphy, who died aged 49 from a brain tumour in 2005. He’ll write their story in his final memoir, he says.

“I was devastated when he died. Then right after that I had my second heart attack,” he recalls.

Unsurprisingly, he sank into a deep depression.

“What they don’t tell you about about heart disease is the depression which descends on you. It was shocking. It just hits you. I didn’t want to do anything. I felt hollow. It lasted about six weeks.

“I’d been with Brendan for 25 years, he was a vital part of my life and that’s gone.”

Today, Paul takes more care of himself. His days of clubbing and heavy drinking are over, but he’s determined to carry on enjoying life.

“You know people go on about the glass half empty and the glass half full. I’m just glad I’ve got a glass at all,” he smiles.