I’m not squeaky clean, I do all kinds of terrible things! He’s been on Songs Of Praise and the royals love him, but as Alexander Armstrong embarks on a one-man tour, he reveals he’s not all that he seems

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That nice Alexander Armstrong is quite horrified people think he’s so, well, nice. 

This sort of thing happens, unfortunately, when you sing on Songs Of Praise.

It doesn’t matter how many other things you might do in your showbiz career (fronting the much edgier Have I Got News For You, for instance), being associated with everyone’s favourite hymn-fest cements you as a Certain Type Of Person in the eyes of the British public.

He seems baffled by this. 

‘I mean, I’m the same person, but after I did Have I Got News For You I got a very cross letter saying, “You hypocrite! I saw you swearing on Have I Got News For You.” 

Alexander Armstrong, 49, (pictured) who is a singer, an actor, a comedian, and voiceover artist, recounts his showbiz career as he prepares to go on an 18-date tour 

'And you think, “Oh come on!” Yes, so I’d been singing on Songs Of Praise, because choral music is my background. 

'I’m happy to do that, and I’m very happy to talk in a very general way about spirituality, but I’m not shiny-eyed about this. 

'And I’m not Cliff Richard. I do all kinds of terrible things. I swear. 

'I’m not some sort of super-clean person. I’m just a bloke.

‘There’s this weird thing going on where people think they’ve worked you out as a certain type of person, but probably better for them if they don’t put me in a box, because if they do I am going to disappoint.’

You’d actually be hard-pushed to find anyone in the public eye who has gone to such lengths not to be typecast. 

Is Armstrong, now 49, a singer, an actor, a comedian, a voiceover artist or a presenter? His CV suggests he’s all of them, and he’s made flitting from one genre to another something of an art form. 

He was a chorister at St Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral, Edinburgh, and four years ago released an album that topped the classical chart. 

While music may be a pillar of his life, he made his name in the comedy world as part of the double act Armstrong and Miller, who were nominated for the Perrier Award at the Edinburgh Festival in 1996. 

Then there’s his straight acting, such as playing Brother Joseph in black comedy Hunderby, and his endless voiceover work on TV ads, as well as children’s cartoons like Danger Mouse and Hey Duggee.

Alexander (pictured in the Armstrong and Miller show) counts the royals among his fans, with Charles and Camilla especially fond of the Second World War pilots from The Armstrong And Miller Show 

Oh, and the small matter of being the presenter of Pointless, a British TV institution itself. 

Even the Queen watches Pointless (‘She bumped into it by accident,’ he says, because it’s on before the news), and in January she took part in a charity version at a Women’s Institute event, hosted by Alexander himself. 

Was she good? He insists she showed ‘deft, silky Pointless skills’. 

Charles and Camilla have also declared themselves fans of The Armstrong And Miller Show, which ran on BBC1 for three years until 2010. 

They’re particularly fond of the Second World War pilots who speak with clipped accents, but using today’s street slang.

‘We did them in the Royal Variety Show once and Prince Charles told us afterwards he’s a great fan.’

So what next? Well, he’s certainly not about to make it easier for everyone. 

His career is taking another sharp turn, because he’s about to embark on his first stand-up tour.

A radical departure? Yes and no. ‘Actually, I’ve been doing stand-up on the quiet for the last 15 years, in the form of corporate gigs.

'In the olden days you cut your teeth on the northern club circuit. I’ve cut mine on the southern black-tie circuit.’

He says he’s reluctant to describe his new venture as stand-up. 

It sounds more like a one-man show. But perhaps one-man show sounds too Val Doonican. 

‘What it’s not is an evening with me, a button-back chair and a glass of brandy,’ he insists. 

Alexander (pictured with his Pointless friend Richard Osman), who hosted a charity version of Pointless, says the Queen was a participant at a Women’s Institute event

Called All Mouth And Some Trousers, it will instead be an ‘irreverent account’ of his life and work. 

He says it will involve some jokes, some singing (‘not posh singing; more funny songs’) and he will be ‘spilling the beans on what it’s like starting out as an aspiring comedian where you’ve got to somehow swing on any vine that comes to you, hoping that it ends up within arm’s reach of another vine’.

Certainly he has the material, having been part of a generation which pretty much dominated the entertainment scene. 

As well as Ben Miller, his Cambridge contemporaries included Ali G creator Sacha Baron Cohen, actress Rachel Weisz (the great beauty of their year, he says), presenter Richard Osman (who went on to become his Pointless partner) and comedians Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins. 

Miller and Rachel Weisz actually dated for a while, which, in Armstrong’s eyes, cemented his reputation as the coolest of them all. 

That and the fact Miller had an earring and peroxide blond hair.

Some of that group ended up performing at a comedy club in Notting Hill. Their comedy club shows were unpaid in those days, he says.

During the day he would audition for acting roles. Money was non-existent. 

‘I lived on a barge for the first six months, with a cousin. Then on the floor of a friend’s house. 

'Often I’d sleep on the carpet. My parents weren’t at all horrified. 

'They have an interesting and lovely feral quality and they loved the idea of us scrabbling around a bit. 

Alexander (pictured with Ben Miller) recalls living on a barge and then on the floor of a friend's house - and says money was non-existent when he was breaking into acting 

'My sister lived in Paris in a disused office. Not a squat, she paid rent for it, but her furniture was things she found on the street. 

'I had a similar life in London. It was exciting. It felt like one long summer holiday, but with no money.’

He’s aware that many will read this and think ‘typical entitled rich kid’. 

And although he was penniless for a while, he was never about to be homeless for real. 

‘No, I wasn’t. You can dress it up how you like – starry-eyed ambition or hateful entitlement – but I don’t think it was the latter. 

'I have to face up to it, though, some people might see it like that.’

At the same time as the industry started to notice his comedy sketches with Ben Miller, his voiceover career took off. 

He’s one of the few people in showbiz to be candid about the fact that a job is a job. 

Nothing snobby about him there. 

‘It does make me laugh when people question my career choices. “Why did you take that job?” Er. Because it was a job and it was offered.’

This is why he was one of the most successful voiceover actors of his generation. 

He’s been the voice of everything, pretty much. 

‘Four or five makes of cars, pretty much every major telephone network, every make of mobile. 

'Most supermarkets, makers of tea, airlines. I’ve done Currys, Coors Light beer, Courts sofas, Cotswolds country cottages.’ 

Not forgetting he was also the voice of Toilet Duck. 

‘Oh, I’m deeply proud of Toilet Duck. I was the voice of the duck I’d say from the giddy years of 2006 to 2012.’

Alexander (pictured on Have I Got News For You) who was snapped up along with Miller by Channel 4, admits that being rejected by the BBC in the 90s still stings 

Doing all these adverts didn’t half give him an insight into that world, though. 

Hollywood budgets have nothing on the budgets for toothpaste ads. 

‘The musculature of this marketing is phenomenal. It’s not until you step into it you realise how much money there must be swirling around just to get somebody to buy your plug-in air-freshener.

'There I was, living on someone’s floor but stepping into a world where on set there was a chef and a machine that made proper coffee with froth – this was the 90s, that was not normal. 

'But it was lovely for me because it meant I had a job, so I could do comedy. 

'How I could have written comedy without that, I don’t know.’

It’s a tricky balance, though. He talks about how being able to afford your rent actually stifles creativity. 

‘If I’m entirely honest, I reckon Ben Miller and I slightly took the foot off the gas. 

'We worked like mad at first because we had to. Then suddenly, when the voiceovers came in, we’d write at certain times of the day.’

He and Miller were snapped up by Channel 4 after their Edinburgh Festival show, but they were rejected by the BBC at that time. 

It still stings. ‘The BBC was going through one of their “Oh God, we will not touch anyone from Oxbridge” phases. 

'But at the time we just thought, “We’re not good enough,” which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Alexander (pictured on Pointless) suggests that things at the BBC haven't changed very much

'The day you start thinking you are good enough is the day you should give up.’

He’s since been embraced by the BBC (most overtly with Pointless) but he does suggest that things haven’t changed that much. 

‘I’m now beginning to wonder if they will ever touch a male double act again,’ he says, presumably referencing the BBC’s equality agenda. 

‘Even the idea of that is odd now. The intention is laudable, but actually you can’t afford to squash good comedy like that. 

'If there is good chemistry, there is simply good chemistry.’

Inevitably, with all this talk of Oxbridge and class the subject turns to how posh he is. On paper, he’s pretty posh. 

He can trace his roots back to William the Conqueror and went to public school – Durham School, rather than Eton – but he also grew up in Northumberland, the son of a GP. 

It wasn’t a silver-spoon upbringing, although it does sound rather delightful.

‘Northumberland is like something out of George Eliot. Village-based, agricultural, and we lived in the middle of nowhere, on a farm at the end of a single track. 

'My dad was the country doctor. He and another two doctors ran a practice that covered 800 square miles, and 80 per cent of his work was home visits. 

'It was a James Herriot set-up, but for humans. We’d all help out answering the phone. 

'The amount of times I had to stop a little old lady telling me all her ailments, saying, “Stop! I’m not the doctor. I’m just answering the phone.”’

Alexander (pictured with Richard Osman on Pointless) tells that he's embraced being posh, although he wasn't given a part in Stardust because of his background

His father, who’s still alive, didn’t mind that he showed no desire to follow him into medicine. 

‘That world changed so much anyway. You don’t get home visits. 

'Someone collapsed in our village and they had to get the air ambulance. 

'In the old days someone would have run for my father.’

Back to his poshness, though. He has thought a lot about this. 

‘Posh can be a lot of things. At school, it can be if you have piano lessons. 

'I got teased for doing music, but are we actually posh? We talk posh, I cannot argue with that. 

'I was brought up to talk like my parents and they are posh, but they’re not snobs. 

'They come from posh families, but with us there was no wealth. 

'I’ve decided to embrace the posh, because there’s nothing to be done about it.’

What does annoy him is being judged because of his poshness. 

‘The number of times I’ve had people say, “Oh God, you’re so posh,” and then therefore think I don’t have a sense of humour, or I don’t have the same sense of humour as them, or I don’t swear, or I will find things a bit indelicate, or I don’t inhabit precisely the same world as they inhabit. 

'I find that really annoying.’

Has it affected his career? ‘In my case it really hasn’t, although Matthew Vaughn didn’t give me a part in Stardust because he thought I was too posh. 

'I was tempted to say, “You could just ask me to act, Matthew. That’s the other thing I do. I act. It means I don’t always have to be me.” 

Alexander (pictured with his wife) reveals his sons aged 12, ten, nine and four, fight all the time - but are also good friends

'But on the other hand I still get the lovely BBC to employ me. The posh police haven’t come round and booted me out.’

He has four sons. How privileged they are – and how it will impact on their futures – is clearly an issue. 

‘I’m aware that these are not great times to grow up being a posh white man. 

'I’ve got sons and you’ve got to prepare them for a world…’ His voice trails off. 

‘I imagine by the time they’re at working age, a lot of this – or the first cycle of this – will be over, and a degree of balance will have returned.’

We move onto the subject of fatherhood. 

His boys are aged 12, ten, nine and four, and boisterous with it. 

‘They fight all the time. Good friends too, but as soon as they come home it’s a blur of fists and lots of incredibly dramatic crying.

'But the good thing is they don’t nurse grievances.

'I’ve got these lovely nieces but, my God, they can be cross for 48 hours. 

'Then again, my boys are nothing like as sophisticated as their female cousins. They only work on one level.’

He met his wife Hannah, then an events organiser, when she was being lined up as a blind date for a friend. 

That date didn’t happen, ‘but the first time I clapped eyes on her I thought, “She’s lovely.”’ 

Alexander (pictured) says he's trying to re-create the childhood he had by keeping his household relatively gadget-free

Three months later, they met again. 

‘And I made sure I left with her number.’ How did he know she was The One? ‘Her views on family were exactly the same as mine. That was so attractive.’

While he’s the provider, he concedes that Hannah, at home with their children, has the more difficult job. 

‘I’ve got a schedule and people are nice to me and bring me cups of tea and it’s all marvellous. 

'I have a lovely time, then I get home to find Hannah has weathered about five mammoth storms.’

He’s doing his best to re-create the childhood he had, and so theirs is a gadget-free household… to a point. 

‘They play with hoops and sticks,’ he jokes. 

‘No, they have iPads – I had this mad idea they would watch wonderful old films on long car journeys, but they love YouTube – but so far we have resisted most of it. 

'They don’t have phones, no Xboxes yet.’ 

So he hasn’t had to contend with social media? ‘Oh God, no, and that terrifies me. It’s really scary. 

'It weaponises the insecurities and nastiness of teenage life. 

'If I didn’t get invited to a party I didn’t know about it, and it was fine. Now your nose is rubbed in it.’

Alexander (pictured), who describes himself as 'Mr Pointless', has had acting roles dry up since becoming famous for 'being himself'

It’s little wonder he’s never been out of work, because he’s as unstarry as they come. 

He says he said yes to the Pointless job because it was a regular income. 

Was he a natural presenter? No, he insists.

‘At the beginning I was far too uptight. 

'There were lots of times Richard would throw a line at me and I would just say, “Oh.” I’m just not as good at thinking on my feet as he is. 

'The banter is better now. It’s such a joy to do, and I do feel as if I own that little podium now.’

He says he and Richard Osman have ‘never had a cross word’ and agrees that’s pretty unheard of in comedy partnerships. 

Does this mean he and Miller had a more volatile relationship? ‘Ben I totally adore but he can drive me up the wall, and I can drive him up the wall. 

'If anything, he knows me too well.’

Being Mr Pointless is a blessing (yes, he plans to stay with the show ‘for as long as anyone wants to watch it’), but it has its downside. 

The acting roles he longs for have dried up since he became famous for being himself. 

Alexander (pictured left on Pointless) won a BAFTA in 2010 for The Armstrong And Miller Show. He says his career all lines up and makes sense from where he's standing 

‘I wouldn’t change it, but you become Mr Pointless and you think, “Yeah, but I loved acting. 

'It’s the only thing I’ve ever won a BAFTA for [his 2010 BAFTA, for The Armstrong And Miller Show, could feasibly be called acting].

'But at the same time I understand it. If you’re putting a sitcom together you can’t commit to somebody who’s busy for 11 months of the year.’

Maybe he’d have an Oscar by now if he’d just ditched the music, or the Toilet Duck ads, or Pointless? He nods glumly. 

‘From where I’m standing, it all lines up and makes sense, but from where other people sit, it looks like the cat’s cradle,’ he admits. 

‘Everyone is probably going, “And now he’s… oh hang on, hello, here he is… oh, and now he’s over here.” 

'They’re all thinking, “Why don’t you find one thing and do it, for God’s sake, and stop faffing about.” 

'I don’t blame them.’

Still, never let it be said he’s predictable. At least we won’t be surprised at whatever he decides to do next.

Alexander’s 18-date stand-up tour, All Mouth And Some Trousers, starts in November. For tickets visit alexanderarmstrongontour.com.