Time to judge Jeremy Kyle

Jun 8 2009 By Susan Griffin

Talk show host Jeremy Kyle is one of the most reviled men in the country. In an attempt to silence his critics, he's published his first book I'm Only Being Honest and in a rare interview talks candidly about being one of the most hated men in Britain, his controversial presenting style and why he feels the need to lick golf balls clean.

"Listen, when you do the show that I do and you're as honest and direct as I try and be, it's Marmite isn't it? I think some people love it, and others will disagree violently," he says.

Dressed down in T-shirt and jeans, he cuts a diminutive figure. And when he asks for his burger to come minus the bun, it's possibly an indication that he's a follower of the trendy, low-carb Atkins diet, which would explain his slim frame.

Surprisingly, Kyle seems quite nervous. Perhaps the host of The Jeremy Kyle Show is more used to shooting questions at his guests than being in the firing line.

Despite being on TV five days a week, doling out advice to guests who range from the good to the bad to the very ugly, very little is known about the man himself.

For the first time he's being forced to face some uncomfortable personal questions in order to promote his debut book, Jeremy Kyle: I'm Only Being Honest.

To his ease him in, where better place to start than why he's decided to bring a book out now.

"I think in four-and-a-half years and 870 shows, I've seen and I've heard and learnt so much that it seemed a good time to do it," he says.

Interspersing his own experiences of growing up in Reading with those of the hundreds of guests he's had on his show - and before that the thousands of listeners who'd ring into his agony uncle radio programme, Jezza's Confessions - his message is loud and clear: Britain is failing.

"The premise of the book is the breakdown of the family unit," he says, sitting on the edge of his seat, his eyes wide with intensity.

"I go on and on about the grounding I got from my parents, us sitting and all eating dinner together and watching the television together and being taught the difference between right and wrong, and respect and treating people decently. I think those are things that people should hold dear."

Along with his show, the 43-year-old is often lambasted for being responsible for the downfall of said society, and he knows the irony of bringing out a book on family values won't be lost on his critics.

"There will be people who will criticise, and I just have to show some dignity. The reason I've included the mistakes I've made and the problems I've gone through is because you learn from those, don't you?

"The book's not just about the show. The show's given me a perspective, if you like, but it's about society as a whole."

Twice married and now a father of four, Kyle talks candidly about his gambling addiction and the daily battle he faces with obsessive compulsive disorder - symptoms of which have escalated from writing "to do" lists to licking golf balls - and even his mobile phone - clean.

"I think doing the show suddenly made me think to myself, 'Oh my god', you know? I do it all the time, how ridiculous is that? Why would you lick your golf balls, why would you lick your phone? But I do."

But then honesty, as Kyle readily reminds us, is what he's all about and the reason for his controversial presenting style.

"I didn't set out with a preconceived idea about how to present the show," he says. "I try to be honest. I try to be direct. Sure there are times when I've gone over the top or there are times when I've been a bit weak. But I do try my best and look myself in the mirror at the end of the day. That's the truth."

Providing viewers with a one-man good cop/bad cop routine, he'll yell (his detractors would say belittle) and comfort guests in equal measures.

"You want everybody that comes to be ready to change their lives, accept our help and use the tools we give them to turn their life around," he explains.

"The majority can do that, but some need a kick up their backsides and some need a cuddle, there's not a uniform approach. I'm not sitting in judgment. They come and ask me what I think. Now, my opinion is my opinion, it doesn't make it right and it doesn't make it wrong.

"I just think I'm being honest about people. If you put your head above the parapet then you're gonna be criticised, of course you are. People will make a judgment on you, but that's fair enough. If you give it out then you have to take it, don't you?"

A radio presenter for 12 years when his contract with Virgin ended, Kyle hadn't contemplated television. But the departure of Tricia Goddard from ITV left a gap in the market for a new talk-show host.

"They were looking for a woman but a producer had heard me and asked me to audition," he recalls. "Doing that radio for years, talking to people late into the night, 45,000 callers, there was that big question in my mind: 'Could I transfer that when you're actually face to face with somebody?'"

He did the audition, got the job and reveals that no-one has been more surprised than him by the show's success.

For many people, the idea of going on television to reveal their most intimate personal experiences is an anathema, but Kyle says there is no shortage of willing volunteers.

"We get approached by people in their droves. I mean we're still getting upwards of 150 calls a day. A day!"

But he adds that 85% of people who apply get turned away because of the exhaustive checks. "If they're emotionally and psychologically not able to cope, then they're not allowed to come on."

He's happy to respond to criticism that his show is car-crash TV, which exploits guests and titillates viewers.

"We hold up a mirror to a part of society, a part of life that people feel uncomfortable with. That's not my problem, is it?"

While he understands the criticism, he makes it clear that all the guests are provided with an after-care service.

"Morally I couldn't do the show without the level of after-care service that Graham (the show's psychotherapist) and his team provide. It wouldn't sit comfortably with me," he says.

"It really is not 'Let's just get someone on and leave them high and dry'. Last year we put a huge number of people on to detox and into long-term counselling."

But he's aware that a fine line exists between making a good television show and counselling. "I think if everyone at ITV was being honest, if you put an hour of counselling on every day it wouldn't work, but we have a moral responsibility as a television show to not only provide a show but a service."

And that, he says, is something he's happy doing for the foreseeable future. "You do your job until somebody some day says, 'Kyle, it's all over - goodnight and God bless'."