From breasts to Brexit: What happened when Esther McCarthy met Miriam Margolyes
Miriam Margolyes: pulls no punches on sex, religion and Ireland in our Weekend interview.
âOOH, yes, they are impressive,â Miriam Margolyes says, adjusting the angle and peering into her camera as I hoist my breasts up so she can inspect them.
Iâve just âmetâ her on WhatsApp video call. Sheâs in the passenger seat of her car on her way to Bradford, driving through tunnel after tunnel â not ideal for an interview as we both keep freezing on each other, and, as every word out of her mouth is interview gold, I donât want to miss a single one.
She is the most wondrous, warm conversationalist. She says everything with a mix of earnestness, enthusiasm, and fierce expression. No more so than when sheâs talking about bosoms.
âI always had a large bust,â she says. âAnd youâve got them as well.â
I was advised recently to get a breast reduction, I confide in her. âOh NO!â she exclaims.Â
âYou should never have an operation you donât need to stay alive,â she says, firmly. âKeep them. They came with you, keep them with you.â
âI will, Miriam,â I promise, and I push the girls back out of view â Cagney and Lacey to their friends.
âI donât usually start an interview by presenting my boobs,â I assure her, but I did notice in my reading of her new book, Oh Miriam! that she extols the marvels of the mammaries.
âI used to leave a list on the kitchen table, to remind a potential lover about the order in which my body liked to be touched. Number One: TITS FIRST. My breasts had to be wooed before I was.â

She tells me she doesnât mind me asking her advice on my tikki-tikki tatas; she assures me itâs quite normal for people to approach her about all sorts of things.
Whatâs that like?
âItâs nice, I love when people come up and talk to me,â she beams.
âYou say in your book that you have always loved talking about sex. Is that one of the things people want to chat about with you?â
âI do, but honestly, I love talking about all sorts of things, and people donât just want to talk about sex.
Iâm not interested in it passionately any more, but I was! Oh, I was!
âBut now I like to hear anything anybody wants to tell me because itâs a way of understanding humanity, you realise people are different â and they really are â we live in this world today, itâs such a...â (she pauses and looks up as she decides on the right word)... âItâs such a FUCK with the politics the way it is.
âTheyâre dividing people you see, the people are divided, and it started off in Brexit. I mean we were never particularly close and England at the moment is not a place I want to be, I really donât like it,â she finishes, crossly (we were speaking before the Labour landslide on July 5).
From breasts to Brexit in under a minute, a new record. Talking to Miriam is like Homer Simpsonâs bee monologue â the terrifying lows, the dizzying highs, the creamy middles.

Weâre chatting because sheâs appearing at West Cork Literary Festival, the week-long celebration of writing and reading. Miriam will be in Bantry on July 15 for what promises to be an unforgettable evening of stories, laughter, and outspoken opinions with Miriam in conversation with Lynn Ruane.Â
The pair co-presented the RTĂ documentary Lady Gregory â Irelandâs First Social Influencer recently and their onscreen chemistry was a joy to behold.
âLynn Ruane is a really outstanding person,â says Miriam.
âI believe sheâs going to be the prime minister, or is it the Taoiseach? I truly believe that.â
Miriam is looking forward to coming to Bantry.
âI happen to love Cork,â she tells me.
Youâre preaching to the choir here Miriam girl, I tell her.
âWell, not only do I love it,â she says, upping her game, âbut I did have family connections there.
âI remember Bachelorâs Quay, because I went in 1963 you see. I did a hitchhiking tour of Ireland, after I left Cambridge. I went to Ireland with my friend Sophie; we went to Skibbereen and Sherkin Island.â
What did she make of it?
âOh my God! It was fantastic! I always remember, when we got in the fishing boat, on the way over to Sherkin, and I was always a portly lady, you see, and the boat went whoopsie! whoopsie! and John OâBrien, he was the ferryman, and he said...âÂ
She switches to a perfect West Cork accent here. Deepening her voice and pulling her eyebrows down, she booms: âOH MY GOD, YOU HAVE A PROW ON YA!â
She laughs hysterically, and weâre back to bosoms.
âIâm actually travelling to Bantry with one of my cousins, who was born in Cork. She is part of my Irish connection and I love her. She is called Annabelle Leventon and one of her cousins was Anna Scher, who was one of the great Irish teachers of young Londoners. She was an extraordinary drama teacher. She was the teacher of Pauline Quirke and Gary Oldman and Phil Collins and Kathy Burke â she was a great lady.
âTheyâre a very talented people, the Irish, and the Irish Jews are a little section of their own. Thereâs not many of them but they are a great people, just lovely.
âIn fact, our antecedent was the first rabbi of Dublin, Rabbi LeventonâŠâ

The car goes through another tunnel at this point, and I lose the thread of the conversation, but we pick it up easily enough when we reconnect.
I ask her about being a Jew who has spoken out against Israelâs actions in Palestine. In Oh Miriam! she writes how she became critical of Israel the more she read and educated herself about the situation.
âWhen I went to Palestine in 2012, I saw for myself the contempt and cruelty with which Israelis treated Palestinians. I met Palestinian people and listened to their personal stories.â
She writes: âI donât have an allegiance to Israel, but what happens in Israel does concern me. Because now antisemites have an excuse to support their vile bigotry. Too many people, including Labour voters, are muddled about this. Itâs lazy thinking. But to hate and attack Jews because of your feelings about Palestine is not acceptable. Itâs the Israeli governmentâs persecution of Palestinians thatâs the evil â not being Jewish. Itâs possible to be proudly Jewish and vehemently anti-Zionist. As I am.â
I ask her if this stance has come at a cost to her.
âIâve lost certainly a couple of close friends because of Israel and me speaking out about it, but I canât help that.
We must speak up about these things, we must,â she says emphatically, emotionally. âAnd I will continue to speak out,â she says.
Does she worry about the whole cancel culture carry-on?
âOh God, no. No! You canât live your life worrying about being cancelled. Iâll worry about it if it happens, but I just say what I think and what I believe.
âFor example, I just put on my Facebook today, that Iâm so glad that Iâm not going to Glastonbury. I canât bear the thought of lots of crowds; lots of noise and no lavatories. I canât think of anything worse!â
Another reason to adore this lady. I love that she puts voicing her opinions on Israel (she calls prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu âthe nastiest of the current nastiesâ) and declaring her disinterest in attending a music festival on a par.

Sheâs approaching another tunnel so I ask her about Graham Norton.
âOh yes! Dear Graham, I forget heâs Irish! Although he has spoken to me about Cork. Heâs connected to it forever, of course. Heâs very loving of his mum; he loves his mumma.
âHeâs made a big difference to my career. I owe a lot to Graham,â she says.
âHeâs very easy to talk to. He makes it nice for everyone; they all want to be there. Itâs a lively place to be, his show, a warm place to be. He makes it safe and he makes it fun, and thatâs a marvellous gift.â And she, of course, is the dream chat-show guest.Â
From scandalising Matthew Perry â âI donât think Iâve ever been more uncomfortable in my life,â he said as Miriam described creaming in her knickers when she met Laurence Olivier â to declaring her beef with Winona Ryder, to dazzling Ron Howard, Miriam dominated the sofa whenever she was on.
She is a consummate, clever storyteller, she has immaculate timing, and delivers a punchline with precision.
Does she have a favourite Norton moment?
âI had a lovely time with Stanley Tucci; heâs the most gorgeous, beautiful man. I remember when I was telling one of my stories, he got up and he shook my hand and pretended to walk off because he couldnât believe I was telling a story about sucking off an American soldier. He was a darling man.
They all know who you are now Miriam, I say.
âOh Iâve never been busier. I have some Cameos (personalised video messages) to record now actually â youâre keeping me from them, you know,â she admonishes.
âIâll get paid $4,000 for 33 Cameos â isnât that extraordinary?â she says.

Since weâre supposed to be chatting about the literary festival, I ask her about writing the book, before she fobs me off for her four grand.
âItâs much harder than acting. Iâm not a writer, you see, Iâm not practised. But once I got into it I rather enjoyed it. I had two incredibly gifted and expert editors who were so supportive and helped me. I was in Italy and we did it over Zoom. I think the book is bloody good too!â
Are there any writers she admires? âColm TĂłibĂn is a genius,â she says. âAnd that young writer, whatâs his name again?â she demands.
I go through a few names that she dismisses crossly. Itâs like playing guess who died with your nan. After a couple of more clues, we finally land on Kevin Barry.
âThatâs the one!â she says happily. âHeâs a charming gentleman,â she says. âI heard him read a bit of his book and I immediately bought it.â
I warn her sheâll have to buy the Irish Examiner while sheâs in Cork. âWell, I was on the cover of Vogue and I didnât buy that,â she giggles, but she promises to drop the few quid for De Paper.
âI do have an affinity with the Irish, you know,â she says.Â
âEveryone who comes to Ireland falls in love with it. Itâs a glorious country. The thing is, and I feel this with all my heart, the Irish have a sense of drama. My father had a gardener, he was Irish, and heâd say, âOh doctor! Itâs the drama of life isnât it, so it is.â
âAnd I believe it is the drama of life that keeps us going.â
Before she goes, I canât resist one last question.
âWhen you were hitching around in 1963, did you have any good sex in Ireland, Miriam?â âNo, Iâm afraid I didnât,â she says seriously, and a little sadly.
âMy clitoris remained unstimulated.â I apologise profusely â although Iâm not sure why; itâs hardly my fault â and I promise her that my bosom and I will be front and centre in the audience for her show, expecting full drama.
- West Cork Literary Festival continues until July 19. See: westcorkmusic.ie/literary-festival/
- Oh Miriam!: Stories from an Extraordinary Life by Miriam Margolyes, published by John Murray Press, is out now


