‘I deserved to be paid more than my wife’
Eamonn Holmes, who turned 60 last week, tells Helen Chandler-Wilde why he’s now considering life after television
Eamonn Holmes has just turned 60, but would rather not talk about it. He celebrated his 50th birthday in style, hosting a huge party with famous friends including Sir Alex Ferguson and Christine Lampard in a box at his beloved Old Trafford. But this time around he didn’t see much to celebrate.
“I think it sounds terribly old, I genuinely do,” he says. Not that it stopped Ruth Langsford, his wife and
This Morning co-presenter, from surprising him with a party last week – the big reveal of which was, of course, filmed for the programme.
For most people, of course, 60 is not “terribly old”. But Holmes works in television, an industry that is famously intolerant of ageing.
And if you think men get a pass for being “silver foxes”, then Holmes is more than happy to put you right.
“In my business, it’s best not to crow about your age,” he says. “People want to box you [in] and tell you you’re an old fogey, or you’re not of this time.” That’s certainly not how he sees himself: “There’s no part of me that doesn’t feel relevant.”
Holmes, by anyone’s standards, has had a terrific broadcasting career. He was born in Belfast in 1959, the son of a carpet fitter, and had a happy childhood – despite the backdrop of the Troubles. His brothers followed their father into the family trade, but from a young age Holmes was set on becoming a journalist.
He got his first job at 19, on a farming programme for Ulster Television. From there, he quickly rose up the channel’s ranks (“the youngest TV anchor ever at 21” and “the youngest person to host an election programme at 22”), before landing a job presenting daytime show Open Air at the BBC in 1986.
In 1993, he was given his first breakfast slot on GMTV, alongside Fiona Phillips. Their on-screen sparring was an instant hit and set the tone for similar pairings in the years that followed. But despite huge viewing figures, Holmes left in 2005, apparently feeling the programme was becoming over-commercialised.
It certainly wasn’t the early mornings that put him off, as he continued his career in morning television, moving to Sunrise on Sky News, and later This Morning, which he has co-hosted with Langsford since 2006. At present, they front the show on Fridays, as well as filling in for Holly Willoughby and Phillip Schofield during the school holidays.
Last year, it emerged that Langsford used to be paid less than her husband when they were hosting the show together. But this wasn’t a problem for
Holmes. “I was a much better broadcaster than her for many years,” he says. “You have to be honest, however harsh that might look. When we started out, I was Eamonn Holmes and she wasn’t.”
He doesn’t say whether it caused any arguments at home in Weybridge, Surrey, where they live with their teenage son Jack. (Holmes also has three grown-up children from his first marriage.)
He also says that while Langsford deserved to be paid less for “the first two years or so” of them working together, the situation is different now.
“She’s now a consummate broadcaster,” he says, adding that he makes sure that they are paid the same before accepting a contract these days.
This, however, is not something he would do with any other female presenter: “What anyone else is paid is not overly my business,” he says. “Television is a very cut-throat business. People try to pretend [they care] what other people are paid, [but] people only really care about themselves.”
Has he ever felt guilty for earning more than a co-presenter? He answers with a swift “no”: “The reason a person’s pay is not as good as mine is I’m obviously better.”
He is, he tells me, “the longestserving breakfast presenter in the world”, so precocious in his broadcasting skill that he “broke all kinds of records”.
Our meeting today, however, is to discuss his latest project, which takes him beyond the confines of traditional broadcasting. He has launched a podcast with Heineken called A Pint
With Eamonn and the Gaffers, in which
he chats with former football managers about their career. His bulging contacts book made it easy to pull in big names such as Sam Allardyce and Steve McClaren.
It’s been a welcome break from TV, he says. And the lower costs have given him the freedom to shape the show – though I detect a slight bitterness in his tone.
“The truth is, nothing I want to do will ever happen on television,” he explains. One thing he’d love is to host a revived This is Your Life: “I think that has my name written all over it. I thought it was my destiny.”
But he concedes that wish is unlikely to be fulfilled: “There are different TV budgets, different audiences these days.”
This aside, Holmes is just as avuncular as he appears on screen, tapping me warmly on the arm, and taking care to ask me several questions.
In some ways, he is too similar to his on-screen persona. He has a presenter’s knack for talking without hesitation: great for filling up time between TV segments, but unusual in ordinary conversation.
One thing is very clear: there is no one who believes in Eamonn Holmes’s future on television as much as Eamonn Holmes. Which isn’t to say he hasn’t grown weary of some aspects of his role. We are too easily offended now, he says, which makes it harder to do his job. “People wake up in the morning looking to have you sacked.”
He also thinks we need to better appreciate the benefit of struggling in life: “You have to go through experiences to face the wider world.”
One thing he fears could hold him back is his health. “I am a bit worried because my dad died at 64,” he says. “I think in the back of all our [he and his brothers] minds is, ‘How long do I have left?’”
One pressing concern is his hearing – he now wears two extremely subtle aids, after tests found his ability to hear had reduced by a third. But despite this visible sign of ageing, he refuses to be embarrassed.
“Once you have them, you look for other people who have them. One of the best places for seeing other people’s is at the urinals – everybody’s head is forward.”
Does he ever think about slowing down? “I do like my work,” he says. “[But] if I don’t change my work pattern, how am I going to see everyone I want to see and experience the things I want to experience?”
Top of the list are going to the Rio Carnival in Brazil and watching cowboys at the Calgary Stampede in Canada, as well as more low-key pleasures, like “going to the cinema in the middle of the day”.
“I’m not against the idea of retiring,” he says. “I look at a beautiful autumnal day, and think, ‘I wish I was with my dog and out walking somewhere.’”
‘A revived This is Your Life has my name written all over it. I thought it my destiny’
‘People are too easily offended. They wake up looking to have you sacked’