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Born in 1974 in Bolton, Vernon Kay, son of Norman and Gladys, was scouted as a model in 1997 and, after being crowned Model of the Week on Channel 4’s The Big Breakfast, moved into TV presenting. He became a household name as one of Channel 4’s T4 hosts in the 2000s and went on to front All Star Family Fortunes and Splash!, while also carving out a radio career that led to him succeeding Ken Bruce on BBC Radio 2’s show in 2023. He lives in Buckinghamshire with his wife, the TV presenter Tess Daly, and their two daughters. He hosts M&S: Dress the Nation on ITV from 14 September, available to stream on ITVX.
Vernon
This is me and Dad in a photo booth at Bolton bus station. I needed to sort out my passport as I was going on a trip to Seattle – I was obsessed with American football and had saved up to go and watch it in real life. Dad must have jumped in for a bit of fun.
I look like a baby, but I was 16 at the time – a real late developer. In fact, I didn’t really blossom until shortly after this picture was taken. When I got back from Seattle, nobody recognised me. I shot up from 5ft 4in to 6ft 4in in the few weeks I was away. I’ve still got stretch marks down my legs from the growth spurt.
Dad was a lorry driver and he wasn’t home much during my childhood, but it never felt as if he was absent. Sometimes, during our summer holidays, he would take me and my brother along to work – we would sit with him in the passenger seat of his lorry driving up and down the country. He would never stop for a break unless it was already on his schedule. I’ve definitely inherited that determination.
As a kid, I had everything I could ever wish for. Dad made sure our Christmases were off the charts – it was like walking into Hamleys on Christmas Day. But it wasn’t just about the presents. Our house was in this beautiful area on the back of the West Pennine Moors – open fields for miles. In the winter it was knee-deep in snow, so we could go sledging, and in the summer I spent all day playing football and swinging on ropes. Because I was so spoilt with where we lived and how generous my parents were, I never really rebelled.
Dad taught me a lot about having a work ethic. I was 14 when I got my first job, which was putting stickers on imported bananas in a factory. It was probably highly illegal to hire someone so young, but from that moment on I was addicted to working. I loved getting paid. I was the richest 14-year-old at school.
Dad’s always been good at advice. One piece that stuck with me was: “No one’s going to give you anything ever, so you’ve got to go and get it yourself.” Another was on my first day at uni. Dad looked at me very seriously, which never happens, and said: “Listen, have a lot of fun, look after yourself, but be careful.” Meanwhile, Mum was like: “Have you got your toothbrush and sorted your TV licence?”
I was at the BBC Clothes Show Live when I got scouted as a model. My dad’s reaction? He laughed down the phone and said: “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Say that again. Why would they pick you? You look like a girl. You’re too skinny to do modelling. Gladys, come here!” That brought me back down to earth straight away.
That’s the moment that everything started for me. I’d left home by the following Friday. I immediately loved living in London. My agency put me on a wage of £175 a week – I got it on Thursday and spent it by Thursday afternoon, mainly in the Punch and Judy pub in Covent Garden with my mates. But Dad’s work ethic was still embedded within me. I would never miss a casting, I always tried my best, and when a TV opportunity came up I grabbed it by the throat.
As soon as I started presenting, I knew it was my true path. I instantly felt comfortable and had such a good time. I think it helped that I didn’t work my way up from being a runner or researcher. Making TV was a mystery to me, so everything I did was instinctive. I was just a young lad from Bolton having a laugh.
Over the years, Mum would join me at the odd film premiere, but Dad was mostly working. He did come to see one show being filmed – a series called Boys and Girls, where Chris Evans was the exec producer. It was nuts – a semi-dating show featuring 100 boys and 100 girls who had to rank each other using the metric “Babe or minger?” It quickly descended into people getting their boobs out. Dad thought it was disgusting.
Whenever I am on the radio, I always find a way to bring up my parents. They made me who I am, and it makes me feel connected to them. I know they’re always listening. I also know that if I say something slightly derogatory about dad, Mum will be nudging him and going: “Yeah, Norman – Vernon’s right!”
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Norman
This picture sums up our relationship. We always had good laughs.
As a little boy, Vernon was mega shy and introverted, but as he grew older he became the complete opposite. For example, when he started going to the Haçienda in his teens: I’ll never forget his outfits – particularly the black satin trousers, and the green tartan ones, too. He would walk into the garden so he could admire himself using the patio windows as a mirror. I’d probably say something like: “You’re not going out like that, are you?” But of course he always did.
One of the first on-screen things Vernon did was an advert for PlayStation. It was on at the cinema, not the television, so me and Gladys went along and asked the person at the counter: “Is there an advertisement for PlayStation in this film, and if so please could we get two tickets?” Seeing him on the big screen was great.
I got my first paper round when I was 10. By 12, I had two jobs. Since then, I haven’t stopped working. As well as driving lorries, I was in a house band at a pub, so I would come home from work on a Friday and on Saturday night I would go out and play my guitar for another wage. I loved it. That being said, my biggest regret is not watching the kids being brought up. I should have recognised it back then, but I was concentrating on making money. Every penny of it was spent on Vernon and his brother.
Vernon always talks about me on the radio, so now I feel like the most famous lorry driver in Britain, even though I’ve not driven a lorry in 10 years. I still watch all of his TV shows, too. My feedback? “You want your hair cut.” Or: “You look tired. Have you been out?”
Even after all his success, he’s still our Vernon. He is just as grounded as he was back then. I know that if all this fails, he’d find something else to do. Like lorry driving. Although Gladys has said: “If I see either of you two with your bum on the seat of a lorry ever again, I’ll give you a bloody good hiding.”
