From the archive (season 1): Russell T Davies

0:00This is The Guardian.

0:08Hello friends and buckle up because we have a little treat for you at the end of what has been an absolutely banging season of guests an autumn mini-series of five of my old favourites so as autumn turns to winter snuggle up, settle in and wallow in this little selection of the most cockle-worn in the teens. Right, let me dig deep into my bag of comfort-eating joy. Yes, let's go way back to the very beginning. This delicious morsel was the first episode I ever recorded for comfort-eating. And dare I say, it was a very moving conversation. Here it is, screenwriter extraordinaire. It's Rosalind David.

1:04I'm just enjoying a lunch of buttered toast and fish paste Yes, the one in the jar Only God can judge me

1:16Today I am going to be chatting to a very, very talented man The much adored screenwriter Russell T Davies Russell must be nearing the status of national treasure, I feel He's perhaps best known for his revival of Doctor Who for the BBC and his groundbreaking gay drama Queer as Folk and the absolute genius of years and years but it may be his recent drama about AIDS It's a Sin for Channel 4 that has seared his name into TV royalty tea.

2:03Russell is known for being a lovely man but I know his life has been far from plane sailing and I found an unexpected number of parallels with his life and mine as well. I can't wait to talk about that. We're going to be hanging out over video call today and I am really looking forward to this. He's a bit of a living legend. Okay, right, hang on a minute. Actually, this fish paste is pretty pungent.

2:35Thank God he's miles away. It smells like cat food, actually.

2:44Russell T Davies, welcome to Comfort Eating. Hello, Grace. Hello. Thank you for having me. I've been looking forward to this so much. I feel like we know each other already. Don't be freaked out by that. I know we should know each other. Well, we do now. Here we are. We do now. Comfort eating together. Marvellous. Are you in your writer's lair now? What's the view out the window? Where are you? This is my little office where I sit and write, and in front of me is the whole of Swansea Bay, which is a huge bay, as you know. And it's sunny today. It's beautiful. I'm very lucky. We'll start with your comfort food that you have asked to be prepared for me today.

3:21Now, this podcast, it's not really an interview so much just a chance for me to be very nosy. I like that. That's good. It's just nosiness. So I have a bowl covered in tinfoil in front of me that's been prepared for me as per your strict instructions. Yeah. Like a remote chef. I'm very intrigued. What am I going to be eating today? I literally have no idea. Welcome, greats, to the world of butter, pepper, rice. This is my signature dish, butter, pepper, rice. And do you know what? Let me tell you, because your producer talked me through this yesterday. We set all this up and I woke up this morning thinking, what a stupid thing I've done.

4:07Why have I said butter, pepper, rice? Until two minutes to podcast when I put it all together and I was going, oh, my God, this is delicious. So, you know, just for people that can't see the rice, it's a bowl of rice. It's a bowl of rice. It has no real colour to it. It's just long-grain rice. It should be Uncle Ben's. It should be so white it's bleached. And really, Grace, it's an excuse to eat butter, isn't it? It's all about the butter. There happens to be rice in there. There's a bit of pepper just to give it a bit of whatever. Butter, pepper, rice. You know something, though? That is so comforting.

4:44It's lovely, isn't it? Because, look, we've all got a cupboard full. I've got a bit of pesto. I've got a tin of tomatoes. It's easy to jazz this up. Don't. That's what I'm saying. Don't. Have the rice with a bit of butter, with a lot of butter, and the pepper. Nicest food in the world. Gorgeous. I just want to eat this whole room. It's just lovely, isn't it? It's surprisingly lovely. Yeah, it's delicious. It's delicious. It's satisfying. It's sating. how much butter is in there. Is it what I would call a wadge of butter? It's a wadge. Or is it a slither of butter? Oh, no, no, no, no. There's no point to that.

5:19Who has a sliver of butter? What's the point? Butter wasn't made to have slivers. Weirdos. Yes. And perverts. No, a wadge. Not 50-50. That would be going too far, I've got to say. But, oh, yours looks nice. I can see yours now. That's very nice. It's like, oh, nice rice. The thing with this is it's so moorish. because it's got kind of a real... It's basically rice pudding. It's that kind of... Actually, yes, the sweetness comes out, doesn't it? You're right, actually. Yes, yes, yes. How did you come up with this? It's midnight, you're hungry. What's in the cupboard? There it is. It's like it wasn't planned particularly.

5:53My favourite thing about it is that I haven't actually eaten it all that much over the years, but it made my husband laugh and laugh and laugh so much. When I unveiled the fact that last night I'd had butter, pepper, rice, it just became one of our running jokes and almost every night he'd say, oh, just let's have some butter, pepper, rice. Let's do that. The fact that I'd named it butter, pepper, rice, he loved.

6:17You're back in Swansea and I know that you spend time between there and Manchester. Yes. Do you write in both of the places or is one a holiday home? Oh, no, no, no. There are no holidays. And I've done that typical man's thing of like, I'm very lucky to have two houses and I'd done that thing of literally recreating, but my cutlery is the same, my crockery is the same. I walk in, it's the same mug, look, here I am, with a Pantone mug, the yellow Pantone mug. And it's the same, so you just, the same knives and forks, you just, everything feels the same. Why do you do that? It just feels comfortable.

6:53Well, everyone has a favourite mug, don't they? You have a favourite mug and I love it. I love a Pantone mug. That's comfort food for me. Drinking tea, I have a Pantone mug. And it's always the yellow for me. The 1225 being my absolute favourite. It's got a number. Oh, my God. I'm just sounding nuts now. Come on this podcast and sound nuts. What conditions do you need to be able to write well apart from the tea in your special mug? Oh, well, just to be left alone, really. Simple as that. I'm getting worse as the years goes on. I now need days in which I've got nothing else to do. Now, if I've got a meeting at 11 o 'clock, the days are spoiled.

7:33It's like I haven't got myself to myself. And I would have to make myself work on days like that. Whereas if I get up and the diary's completely blank, that's a perfect writing day. Actually, that's a day I'll probably then go and watch telly all day and then the next day will be a perfect writing day because, of course, I'll do anything to put it off. But, yeah. Do you get up incredibly early? No, no, no, no. I'm happiest at night, really, until about two or three. I love it then, yeah. Do you? Yeah. So really late on, three o 'clock in the morning, do you think that's a good time to come out with a plot twist?

8:03That's why at midnight you'll find me scavenging the cupboards with butterbepper rice.

8:13I'm really interested in how much you actually love being alone because I was reading about you really wanted solitude even when you were little, even when you were just living with your family in a house. Yes. It's like you kind of loved time by yourself then. It's true. Yes, I did. Why was that? I don't know. And, you know, when I'm being a cheap psychologist, sometimes I go, oh, is that a gay thing? She didn't fit in. But it goes way back before that. When I was in school, primary school and stuff like that, I used to walk home and I used to love it when no one walked home with me. Sometimes, you know, people would catch up and go, hiya, and they'd walk along.

8:52My literal reaction, oh, damn. Because I had stories going on in my head. They were Doctor Who stories then. I was thinking of these things and explosions and chases, not just Doctor Who, cartoons, all sorts of things. I used to draw all the time then rather than write. So my head was just full of that and I'd get really interrupted if someone came along. And like, yeah, like holidays, I'd think, oh, a week to myself, how lovely, like a half-turn. I really emphasise with that. I've always loved my own company. I like people, I like to have a laugh, but I like my own company. If somebody exactly half-turn for me was a lovely break from having to see everybody at school.

9:30Yeah, exactly. Oh, really? Oh, my God, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Exactly that. And it's not like we're happy in our own company and we're walking around going, ha-ha, I'm happy. Because actually being in your own company means you're digging into yourself and usually digging up stuff you don't like or having a tough time with yourself even. But it's good. It feels good. It feels strong. I love it. Yeah. You were the youngest of three children with two older sisters, Yeah. Your mum, Barbara, and your dad, Vivian. So I kind of see you as the dreamy, creative kid. How did your family react to that? Were they understanding and supportive of, you know, being an artistic child?

10:12Oh, they were lovely. I mean, if anything, they were an artsy family. They were languages. My family were language teachers, which is on the artsy side. And in fact, we've got a niece now. My lovely niece, Ruth, who's a mathematician, and she's a puzzle to all of us. She's like, where the hell did you come from? It's like she's a genuine mystery to all of us. Maths. So they were like, it was a house full of books. And they just loved it. They were all for it. They didn't believe I could ever get a job out of it. It's like I started working behind when I got a job. In my 20s and 30s, I got a job.

10:40First of all, I worked behind the scenes in television. We never told my father I did that. He never knew. He never knew I was all right. Never. And sometimes I'd forget and I'd phone home in the day. I'd go, hello. And he'd say, where are you? I'd go, oh, I'm at home. And he'd go, what are you doing at home? and I'd be like, oh, God, it's like a television day off now. It's like Granada, allow all their staff to have Tuesdays off and I'd just lie. And I mean, that lie went on for about 20 years. He only died a couple of years ago. And so we just kept that lie going forever. And then, so I'd get credits on television saying written, well, he was blind, so he couldn't see the credits, but nonetheless, people would say, oh, Russell's, and he'd be like, when did you write that?

11:16They're like, oh, in my spare time. I kind of do that in my spare time because it's quite easy, television writing. It's just evenings, a little hobby. so um so artsy but not not artsy enough to say go and be bohemian you know i can't believe that you hid this from your father was your family dynamic like that when you were a child did everyone keep things oh yes it was always like whenever something happens in the family we go through the whole sort of domino procedure of like who should we tell why should we tell her now Should we not tell her? Should we do this? Why don't we tell her I was ill?

11:51We literally still go through it instead of telling everyone the truth. And we're a lovely family. There's no dark secret at the heart of the family. It's just some strange work we've been brought up. It's funny. We're making it sound like the family has terrible things. The irony is it's not like we're hiding abuse or neglect or poverty. It's like we're literally lying about who took the car yesterday. Did you lock the door? And have you visited your nan? And have you booked that holiday? It's like, oh, don't tell him we booked the holiday. Don't say that, because he'll only fuss. And so I'll say I did it yesterday.

12:24It's like we live this... It's mad, isn't it? So I was reading about how your dad was the chairman of Swansea Rugby Club. Yes. And I think that's such a defining thing in so many ways, because rugby's such a big part of the community. Oh, my God, yes. He must have been a bit of a local celebrity. I mean, if you went anywhere, everyone must have known you. Yes, yes, yes, a bit of a local celebrity. He was also a great after-dinner speaker as well. He was paid to give speeches. He was hilarious. He'd work very hard on these speeches. So, yeah, and that rugby club was the centre of our lives when we were young.

13:04I mean, I hated it. I couldn't bear it. But it was where he went on a Saturday afternoon, and I just used to sit there on a Saturday afternoon, dying to get home before Doctor Who was on, because it had a television in the corner. I remember watching Tom and Jerry on that television, but you can never guarantee that my dad would put out his pinty in order to get home for Doctor Who. And it was, ooh, a major tension, major tension, but it's fun. And now, of course, all the family funerals. When I die, do come to my wake because it'll be in Swansea Rugby Club. That's where we have all our funerals and do's and everything.

13:35So now when I go back there, it's like the tolling of a bell. Tell me about the rugby club when you were a little kid. That rugby club was very, very special to my family because both my parents' only children, they both went through the war. And actually, my father, I realised much later on in life, came back from the war shattered and spinning with it. So he came home and a lot of them all came home. So that rugby club came their whole lives. And I talk about Saturday nights, they'd all carry on drinking and they'd all pile back to our house at like, well, when the pups goes 11 o 'clock and they'd stay up drinking till two in the morning.

14:10And my memory is of sitting on the stairs, listened to them all drunk and singing and happy. It was a very, very happy bunch of people. To me, it was what I did love was the women, the rugby wives, Myra and Noel, all these fantastic women, all in their glittery jumpers, all in their glory, all drinking gin and tonics and singing and laughing. Amazing, amazing. The men were fantastic as well, but there was just a great big gay streak, even as a kid that just responded to those glorious women and their loveliness. I love that you say that when you die, you still want to have your wake there, which makes me think that they put on a good spread.

14:51Oh, I don't think I have much choice. It's just what my family would do. If I ask for someone else, they'll just ignore me. It is like, it's your classic. It's a lovely old sausage rolls, chicken wings, that sort of stuff. If there was like a big win or something and there was going to be those fantastic women in their sparkly jumpers putting on a buffet, What's on this table? You've got your plate, you walk up. What are you going to get? Oh, I'll get the chicken wings and nowadays chicken thigh, which is a much nicer thing, obviously, and a sausage roll. I love all that stuff. But actually, it's like, it was better than that, actually.

15:25I'm kind of lying, actually, because it was a bit more, there was that element of, when these women would have to do it, there was that element of potluck to it. And actually, these women were great cooks. They were properly great cooks, so there'd be casseroles and stews. And my mother was an extraordinary cook. She'd work all day. She was a teacher. She'd come home one night, she'd say, it's Oso Bucco tonight. Oso Bucco? I mean, who was Oso Bucco? On a Swansea, on a Tuesday night? That's the kind of chef she was. It's like she'd made, the only thing she ever made that failed was rum baba. She made her own rum babas and they were just awful.

15:55And that was like, that was, you know, she'd been to France, she'd travelled a bit. She was, you know, she was bigger than Swansea, my mother, bless her. She was an amazing cook. She would think nothing. She lived in the kitchen. She just stood there all day long and just potted, just cooked, cooked, the fridge was just jam-packed all the time. She loved it. Everything she made tasty. Cocky-le-saint-Jacques, she said. Let's have Cocky-le-saint-Jacques. Just things like that. So that's ordinary to me. I know those things are like ordinary food to me. That's like, oh, my mum's done that.

16:31When you were 18, you got a place at Oxford to study English. So that must have been, like, quite the transition from where you were to Oxford. It was, actually, yes. It was, yes, it takes you many years to think about that, really. And my parents were very proud, because they were the first generation ever to go to university. They both went to Swansea University. So then I, the next generation going to Oxford, was huge to them. Tell me about your first term at Oxford. Well, it was, like, in terms of, like, you get there, and of course you're 18, 1981. There aren't like, what did you do for lunch?

17:08What did you do for lunch, Grace? Before I kind of worked out the system, I didn't know where lunch was. And this is before Pret a Mardi. Can you imagine a world in which there were no sandwich shops? And where do you eat and what do you do and where do you go? And I mean, there were cafes, but even then, cafes were much more, they were a bit more restaurant-y. To go to a cafe, you'd sit down and have your cutlery. There weren't takeaway coffees like there are now. You wouldn't do that. and it was all much more sit down. So I remember sitting there and thinking, well, what do I actually do? And of course, I'd never had to feed myself.

17:40But my mother just had a fridge full of food. You just went to the fridge and there was ham and there was cheese and there was whatever, and bread and you just ate. So where did you go? Well, my comfort food for that first term became Woolworths and just having a piece of that pork pie with egg in it. Gala, is that gala pie? Is that called gala pie? Which, let's face it, is a lovely food any day. I would have that if I was sitting there and dinner in Buckingham Palace. I'd say, bring me a piece of pork pie. Right. So I have equally fond memories of Woolworths, right? Who doesn't? Woolworths, a magical place.

18:16Emporium. But I don't have any strong memories of them selling fresh-ish food. Oh, there was a proper meat cabinet thing. Yes, you know, this wasn't pork pie wrapped up in a plastic thing. This was like, we'll cut a piece of pork pie for you. Tell me about the Woolworths pork pie with egg in it. I want you to tell me how it tastes, how you serve it when you take it home. Do you have it with a condiment? Oh, no, no, no, no, because it's kind of juicy enough. It's very juicy pork pie, that one. Good crust, good crust to it, and I like the jelly. You meet sometimes people who leave the jelly behind.

18:53What kind of people are they? Fools. Proper people. none of you know it's that mechanical pork pie it's not even modern pork pies are kind of like they're a bit greyer like that's closer to the natural animal stuff like that your walrus pork pie was just pink bright pink with a lot and if you you were lucky you got a slice with a bit of yolk in the egg if you're unlucky of course you get the end of the egg which was what do you do stand there and complain i can't have the end of the egg please just don't give me some yellow you can't do that do you know and in a lot of ways isn't that like life isn't it isn't it do Do you get the yellow or do you not?

19:30And after about a term, I worked out where everyone was going and you actually went to the bar in the university where they did a very nice lasagna. So then I'd like three years of lasagnas for lunch. When you were just 24, you moved to Manchester. Yes. To write on Prime Suspect, which blows my mind, did you meet Helen Mirren? It wasn't quite that easy. I went to do children's programmes and it took me a long time to get into that Prime Suspect room. No. Was it Chuckle Vision first? Chuckle Vision first. That was one of the first things I ever wrote. I mean, to be honest, yeah, whatever. So Helen Mirren, but the Chuckle Brothers.

20:05To hell with that, exactly. And I probably get more repeat fees for that than anything I've ever done because chuckle is a universal language. It feels like when you got to Manchester, you were just working and working and working and, you know, really, really exhausting yourself. Were you feeding yourself then? Did you learn where food came from? What did you eat when you were sitting at your desk? Because the hours were ferocious. I did join children's television, and one of the joys about children's television is it's very cheap, so you have to do everything. So you learn an awful lot, but you have to do everything.

20:38And my favourite thing to eat then, again, shops weren't open 24 hours then, even in a big city like Manchester, but there were, like, grocers in Rushome. I lived just behind Rushome, the curry mile. I still live there. So they'd get, like, corner shops, grocers, that would just sell tins of stuff. and my favourite thing to eat then and again like 10 o 'clock at night were tins of new potatoes. Boiled, peeled new potatoes which I can still taste that. I still think that's delicious. I love eating stuff from a tin. I love chickpeas as well just to be a bit more healthy. To this day I can still eat a tin of chickpeas in 30 seconds.

21:13I love chickpeas. Have you ever had potatoes from a tin? I have had potatoes from a tin when I was a little girl so they're in a very salty, briny water, aren't they? Yes, and it's a very specific... They don't taste like any other form of potato. They taste tinny. They taste of the tin, and I love them. That and a fork, gone. I think there's a specific type of person that does eat from the tin because I will eat from the tin. I can't open beans and take the beans to the microwave without taking a spoon and eating the first... But I know that that provokes a very strong reaction. in several of my exes as they've been leaving.

21:54Were there not other reasons? No, no, no. I like to think it was the beans.