‘Are dads better than mums at some things? Well, yes’
In a new Radio 4 series, Tim Vincent asks why men don’t talk openly about fatherhood. By Guy Kelly
Acouple of years ago, when Tim Vincent was about to become a father for the first time, all his male friends told him the same thing. “They said: ‘Ugh, the first 6-12 months, mate, get that out the way. You’ll never sleep the same again, even if the kids aren’t in the house. You’ll always have that battered dad sense going on.’ I was like, when will people start telling me the good thing about having children?”
Vincent read all the books, readied himself, and when his twin sons, Felix and Jasper, arrived, he discovered that while it was “a bit tough”, he “enjoyed every second of it” – and still does. But he still couldn’t find much open and honest discussion between men about the joys, or at least the realities, of parenting.
A colleague at a production company, who’d also had a baby, agreed. So they cooked up an idea: create a radio panel show expressly designed for men to speak honestly about becoming dads. The worries, the challenges, the emotions.
The result is The Likely Dads, which begins a full series tonight on BBC Radio 4, following a successful pilot earlier in the year. Vincent, 47, a former Blue Peter presenter, is the host, with comics Russell Kane (father of one) and Mick Ferry (father of three) regular panellists, alongside a revolving door of famous guests.
“The biggest issue we have is knowing what to cover, because there’s so much. You just ask a few questions and everyone’s off, with their admissions, their experiences, their guilt trips…” Vincent says.
As well as that, they’ll discuss why things like Mothercare isn’t called “Parentcare”, and how the politics of the school gates really work.
“People assume because it’s men talking about being dads, it must be anti-something, but it isn’t,” he says. The only thing it’s anti is ourselves, because guys tend to take the mick out of each other.
“We might have some good tips, an emotional story about how Russell still blubbers when he drops his daughter off at nursery, and then quickly someone else tells one about getting their children in for free at Alton Towers. It just keeps going.”
It is a good study into how men communicate: three jokes and an earnest comment, then quickly on to a joke again. But the themes, which touch on everything from anxiety about being an older father to the tricky balance between being a “fun dad” and a disciplinarian, are serious.
Both are among Vincent’s worries: whether he’ll be there for landmarks such as meeting his grandchildren, whether he’ll be fit enough to run around the park, or whether it might be an issue with boys that he’s not really into football.
“I thought there would be at least a chance I’d get a little girl, then I got two boys, and I was like, that’s going to be a challenge, because I’m not into football and I can see myself shivering on a touchline when I’d rather be at home watching a rerun of some schmaltzy film learning to braid my daughter’s hair. But that hasn’t happened, and boys are so much fun. They’re keeping me active,” he says.
The whole experience of making the show, he adds, has taught him that some things in parenting are universal, but no two parents are the same.
“It’s like that thing of: ‘Are dads better than mums at some things?’ Well, yes, but it depends which dad and which mum, just as mums are better than dads at some things, depending on who it is. Everyone is different, but everyone has similar experiences they can share.
“I think I’ve learnt fathers are slightly more redundant in the first six months because they’re just running around trying to help out, and the mother is understandably in charge and exhausted. You’re just the magician’s assistant – equally exhausted but not quite as connected and up-to-speed.”
Vincent co-parents his twins, having separated from TV producer Gemma Charles last year, who lives 10 minutes away from him in west London. They are “in the same bubble” and get on well, so lockdown “probably wasn’t as difficult as it was for other people”, he admits.
“But you need an infrastructure
‘I thought two boys would be a challenge because I’m not into football’
of other people that have babies of a similar age, to compare are and contrast what’s going on. It’s another thing men are not necessarily rily good at. They don’t have these big Whatsapp groups with other dads to discuss scuss nappy movements.”
I had imagined, apparently pparently erroneously, that Vincent’s ncent’s four years as a Blue Peter presenter in the Nineties eties – starting when he was as just 21 and fresh from m North Wales – might have made him a dab b hand with children. Apparently not.
“It’s a fallacy a lot of people have made, , but I like kids because se I talk to them not down wn to them. But anything g else, their mother is a lot better than me.
“I still struggle to remember to put my trousers on when I go out. Any y arts and crafts – I can’t. Jasper asper and
Felix find it funnier to put the paint on me,” he sighs. “It’s probably a sign of the times but they’re much happier filming a video for a birthday than making a card.”
As somebody who grew up watching Vincent work wonders with sticky-back plastic, I am shocked. It’s like hearing Gary Lineker is rubbish at keepy-ups. Those are surely skills you don’t lose.
“No, you don’t lose them, but I never had them to begin with. When you do Blue Peter, you would be throwing yourself out of planes or running marathons or whatever, but when
I was doing a ‘make’ item, those are probably the most technical things you have to do on the show.
“I think even BBC newsreaders would struggle to do a six-minute item seamlessly – and that looks fun.”
Life post- Blue Peter can be precarious and unpredictable these days. Some, like Matt Baker, Simon Thomas and Helen Skelton, have roared off into other realms of gentle presenting. Richard Bacon, who was infamously sacked after a cocaine scandal, leaned into his bad-boy (relative term) image to embrace more laddish ventures. Konnie Huq writes children’s books.
Vincent, though, appeared on such long-forgotten gems as a reality show called I’m Famous and Frightened, presented several Miss World contests, and has spent much of the last 15 years in the US, working for Access Hollywood, an entertainment news programme.
He’s now back in the UK, single, with “no time” to start a new relationship, and still working for Access as a roving reporter. He also lends his voice to Channel 5 documentaries and, bizarrely, has a forthcoming campaign promoting personal protective equipment (PPE) in America. “They wanted somebody ‘Hugh Grantesque’ – I told them I was more northern, they said I still sound better than them, so…”
Before that, of course, there are eight episodes of The Likely Dads, which he hopes might make male listeners feel a little less alone, and a little less lost, in new fatherhood.
“I want people to nod along in silent agreement,” Vincent says, “we’re not professing to be experts in anything, just having our experiences heard.”