Jamie Theakston: Tall but perfectly formed

The television presenter Jamie Theakston has all the qualifications for the job - good looks, celebrity girlfriends, recently exposed sexual peccadillo... Now he's hoping to leave all that behind for a new career as an actor. But is Jamie a big enough talent to escape the small screen?

Oh, boy. Jamie Theakston, and what to talk about? What to talk about? If I sound panicky, it's only because I am. I'm not sure a postmodern, contextual, deconstructive analysis of his telly work – O-Zone, Live and Kicking, The Priory – is going to get me through. Yes, there is his private life, but he hates discussing it, by all accounts, which makes me think that: "Joely Richardson, in the sack, out of 10?" might not be the best opener. The scandal? You know, that scandal. The four-in-the-bed, bondage, brothel-going one. I'm not entirely convinced he'll want to re-visit all that, and anyway it might be quite boring now. It might even have been quite boring at the time. Perhaps it will have to be his new-ish career as a serious actor. He was recently in Art for three months, although I'm not sure this counts for much as, frankly, who hasn't been in Art for three months? I think our cat was once even in Art for three months. Still, he is now starring in the West End, in Somerset Maugham's social comedy Home and Beauty. I'm hopeful that there will be considerable mileage in this, but then I pick up the London Evening Standard which, in its review, describes the play as "gross, embarrassing, mirthless, absurd". Another subject to avoid, then. Ho hum. Nice weather for this time of year, Jamie? Favourite vegetable? If you had to be deaf, dumb or blind, which would you choose? Guess I'll just have to turn up and see what gives. Or doesn't.

We meet at a restaurant in Notting Hill, near his London flat. He's a few minutes late. Perhaps he was tied up somewhere. So to speak. He's 31, and remarkably handsome; a total dish. Apparently, his nose is the nose most requested by men who opt for plastic surgery. I should have asked: What's it like, Jamie, to have your nose picked by so many people? But I didn't think of it at the time. There goes my Interviewer of the Year award. Again. So he's handsome, yes, but perhaps not especially sexy. The two do not necessarily go hand in hand. Unless, of course, you are Alan Titchmarsh, who is uniquely the whole package. (Alan, out of 10, in the sack? Eleven, I bet!)

Jamie now has a moustache, grown for his role as Major Frederick Lowndes in the play. He wasn't sure about his "facial accessory" at first, but is now rather attached to it, even though "it sometimes develops a mind of its own and becomes very Seventies porn star. My gay friends like it." He has long, improbable, almost Cleese-ish limbs, and looks fit, as he is. He goes to a gym. Went just yesterday, as it happens, where he noted that "there are more people doing yoga in Notting Hill than there are in the whole of India". One last observation on the physical front: he bites his nails horribly. Indeed, his fingertips are less fingertips, more chewed stumps. It's not due to anxiety, he says. He's not a substantial worrier. It's just something he does and has always done. "My mother used to dip my fingertips in bitter mallow. I don't know what the answer is now, apart from leather gloves." I think he'll find he probably has to pay extra for that. So to speak.

Anyway, on to Home and Beauty, which I'd seen the previous day, and rather enjoyed. It's a very hammy farce, hammily played, which is what it's meant to be, he says. And, to be fair, only the Standard declared it an outright stinker. OK, The Guardian found it hard to warm to ("a misguided production") but this paper found it amiable enough ("high-spirited and enjoyable"') while The Daily Telegraph loved it ("the perfect West End treat"), as did the Daily Mirror. Actually, the Daily Mirror went bonkers for it, and for Jamie in particular. "He caught the mood of this drama to perfection."

Jamie's had a lot to say about the tabloids in recent years, for obvious reasons – "Jamie and Joely Split", "TV Jamie Bondage Brothel Shame", etc, etc. But now he takes it all back. "That man at the Daily Mirror..." he says. Piers Morgan? "What a wonderful job he has done at that paper. Newspaper of the Year!" He knows that, as an actor, he comes with some baggage, professional and personal – the name is Bond(age), James Bond(age)? – but he's not just another presenter-turned-thesp. His first ambition was to become an actor. Before telly came along it's what he thought he'd do. He was always in school plays, "usually as an adoring girl in Joseph. That's the sort of role I got." He performed with the National Youth Theatre from the age of 14. And, astonishingly as it may seem, he can act, can cut it. His performance as Major Lowndes isn't embarrassing at all. Even the Standard had to concede that. Best thing about the whole business, it said.

I ask if he suddenly shifted his focus, from TV hosting to acting, as a response to the fragility of a presenter's career. Indeed, I continue, I've begun to imagine that there is a home somewhere for out-of-work, out-of-favour telly presenters, perhaps run by Anneka and Anthea. They are probably getting everything shipshape for John and Angus as we speak. Whatever, I see it as a very nice place, with an evening entertainment schedule that includes Sarah Greene and Michael Rodd doing a delightful duet on the spoons. (No extra charge, I imagine, as that would be pushing it rather.) He says: "Presenting is not a job for life, and it is important to re-invent yourself and do other things." He likes the idea of such a home. He wonders how they'll all now manage without Tony Blackburn "who has probably just checked out, don't you think?" Jamie is quite easy to talk to. I've yet to ask him if he thinks cabbage has it over brussels sprouts, or his preferred disability. Personally, I'd go for blind, as it comes with a golden Labrador, and I've always wanted a golden Labrador. I wouldn't be able to see it was golden, of course, but I'd love it just the same.

However, I suppose I do have to ask him something about his off-stage, off-camera life. Gulp. Deep breath. OK, Jamie, has Joely seen the play? "Yes." And? And? "She loved it!" Jamie has dated some seriously amazing women over the years: Sophie Dahl, Natalie Appleton, Joely. He split up with Joely last year, but rumour has it they are back together. Are they? Should I ask? Do I care? I ask, instead, if he is currently in love. Long pause. Long pained pause. Long, pained, embarrassing, uncomfortable pause. Wish I'd asked about sprouts. "Hey," he finally announces, in a self-mocking way, "I've gotta lotta love to give." So, yes then? "Look, I am very protective. If I can fight off interest I will." Fair enough. But how does it feel when, Jamie, you can't fight it off? When the Sunday People publish photographs of you being a bit naughty? What do you think your image is now? "Well... as my father said, it doesn't make me less interesting."

As I understand it, one night last December, he got very drunk somewhere, tumbled into a minicab in the early hours, and meant to go home, but was instead talked into going to "a very good drinking place" by the minicab driver. The thing that mystifies me most about this incident isn't that he was drunk. Or that he went to a brothel. There's no law against either. He's not married. He wasn't even attached at the time. How many pissed young men haven't been to a brothel? No, the thing that gets me is that he trusted the driver's advice. I mean, I wouldn't trust a minicab driver to get me from Crouch End to the West End without going via Cardiff and Dorset. What were you thinking of, you silly billy? "God. This is always embarrassing... this obsession with celebrities. I think it's reached saturation point. Why do we feel drawn to living through people from the telly? I'm still not convinced I know the best way to deal with this. I always thought that if I didn't discuss my private life, I wouldn't be sucked in." But it doesn't work like that? "No." One last question on this particular topic. Had you ever done anything like it before, but not been caught? "No. No! No!" Hey. Calm down. No point in getting all whipped up. So to speak.

He was born and brought up in Brighton where he shared "a very happy, completely unremarkable" childhood with his father (a software salesman, now retired), his mother (a tea-shop proprietress) and his younger sister, Kate. At 13, he was dispatched as a boarder to Lancing College, West Sussex, which was great. "I loved it. I thought it was fantastic. It was like an extended holiday camp. Three hours of sport a day. Amazing." Post A-levels, he imagined that he would go to drama school, but at the last minute he suffered a failure of courage. "People said that, to be a successful actor, you had to really, really want to do it, and I wasn't sure if I did. I buckled under that pressure." Any regrets? "No. I've enjoyed presenting the shows I've presented." OK, from now on, you can act or you can present. You can't do both. A law's just been passed to stop you. "When was this law passed?" Just now. "Oh... hmm... I'd act." Really? You wouldn't miss telly shows? "I would. But I'm not allowed to do them, am I? I don't want to break the law." All right, smarty-pants.

He went to do a business degree at North London Poly instead, "God knows why." After that, it was a spell at Christie's – he quite fancied himself as an auctioneer, for 10 minutes or so – while doing the traffic reports, as a favour to a mate on GLR. Then it was Radio 5 Live, then the BBC music show O-Zone. Everyone, it seems, was thrilled with his career apart from his maternal granny, who expected him to take over the family business on Jamie's mother's side, which was a Ford dealership in Basingstoke. She was very upset initially, but perked up when O-Zone came along. "She watched every single show, and when she went to her weekly hair appointments, on a Thursday afternoon, she'd say things to the hairdresser like: "What do you think of the Manics' new album? I'm not convinced it's not as good as the last one."

I imagine the sort of work that he does isn't substantially underpaid. Are you good with your money, Jamie? "I do like to spend money, but I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes down to it." He says that when the play was at Windsor, the theatre was just up the road from a Ferrari dealership. So, yes, he went for a test drive, along with one of the other actors. A fantastic car, the Ferrari, but while the other guy bought one, "when it came to it I just couldn't do it". Your most recent extravagance? Well, he says, aside from the London flat he also has a Sussex house and, "I've just had a new kitchen put in, made by the carpenter in the village." To go with it, he's also bought a "really, really expensive" oven, which is a bit of a joke, as he doesn't cook. "Still, it's good for lighting my fags. It's probably the most expensive cigarette lighter in the world."

Anyway, he has to go now. A photocall for Hand... sorry, Comic Relief or something. It's been a most pleasant hour or so. He seems an amiable chap. Perhaps, now I think about it, I let him off too lightly. Should have grilled him more. Should have put him on the rack. So to speak. Actually, there is no "so to speak" about it. I can do that stuff. Although I charge quite a lot extra for it, obviously.

'Home and Beauty' is at the Lyric Theatre, Shaftesbury Avenue, London W1, to 1 Mar (020-7494 5045)