Witty and self-mocking man who is married to Dawn French and started on New Faces. Affectionate and straightforward comedian who stars in True Identity and came from a West Midlands Jamaican family.

This is Lenworth George Henry, more commonly known as Lenny Henry. ‘Teachers called me Lenworth when they were cheesed off with me,’ he shrieks, in Roquefort tone. ‘I just think of myself as Len, the ordinary bloke.’

He’s wearing kecks (northern slang for trousers), a shirt by Betty Jackson and Italian shoes. ‘I’m not usually Mr Labels,’ he says, his voice rich and resonant. He used to wear corduroy trousers so massive that he looked like a ship coming down the street. ‘So huge you couldn’t get anybody else on the pavement.’

He stretches his legs out, and they seem to reach the other side of London. What sort of clothes does he like to wear? ‘I like to wear things that fit,’ he replies, hooting with a laugh that reaches the provinces. When he stands up, he seems to reach the ceiling. He’s 6ft 3in. ‘It’s cool being tall. You can always get into pubs without people wondering whether you’re underage.’ He’s 33.

‘When you see yourself on a big screen, suddenly you’re 20 times bigger than you normally are. If you have a big face, you suddenly look like a hippopotamus in Levis.’

So he got into shape for True Identity. ‘I’m big now, but not as big as I used to be.’ He grew up being fed meals so heaped that he says he could only just see over the plate.

He has a genial and lovely face which he pulls into theatrical contortions. He also has big eyes – they are very gentle, honest and alive – and close-cropped hair. ‘Laid-back flat top,’ he dubs his hair style. ‘Sometimes I’m vain. On stage I do lots of posing. I try to be a sex god on stage. But I’m usually a sex god with a shirt that is hanging out.’ In True Identity, he changes the colour of his skin to white to escape the mob. How does he feel about being black? He looks down, with serious expression.

‘I’ve always been aware of where I’m from. I wouldn’t want to be white.’ He sounds cross and defensive, then appears sultry and defiant, fleetingly. Ask him how he rates himself sexually – and he looks gobsmacked. There’s a pause big enough to build a pyramid.

‘Dunno. You’d better ask someone else. Ooh God, this is a cracker. Well, I think it’s got a lot to do with my sense of humour. It can’t be my looks that people like because they’re so odd.’

He is mostly easy going, uncomplicated – one couldn’t imagine him being devious – polite, endearing, genuine and amusing.

How does he see himself? ‘I’m a bit grumpy sometimes. I’m quite a disorganised person. I like to look good, but sometimes I can’t be bothered to be Mr Celeb in a suit.

‘I’m a very good audience, love to hear a joke, am quite gregarious and have quite a lot of friends.’ His friends range from printers to social workers.

He doesn’t know what makes him funny, but thinks it might be something to do with ‘knowing when to go bonkers’. He adopts lots of funny voices and roles throughout the interview. He also laughs at himself. ‘I hope that I’m quite self-deprecating most of the time. I don’t think I take myself that seriously.’

He says he doesn’t feel professional rivalry towards his wife. ‘It’s about being there for each other, not saying, ‘Sorry love, I’ve got a television series to do’.’

Anyone in showbiz must be egotistical. ‘Oh yeah, anyone in this line of business is, whether or not they throw up before they go stage. But I have to believe in what I do because I can’t plumb and I can’t mend cars.’ Does he think he’s gifted? ‘I think I’m jammy, very lucky indeed.’ He comes over as self-confident, balanced and determined. ‘Quite confident, yeah. Actually, I think you have something inside you that nobody else knows about. Deep in your heart, you know that you can do it.’ Later he says: ‘I’m tenacious. But I have my moments of self-doubt, anyone does. But I think you caught me on a good day.’

He was bought up a Pentecostalist and went to church every Sunday from the age of five to 15. ‘I used to be very good in Bible class. I believe there’s a God. And I think He’s like everyone’s psychiatrist. For most people, God’s someone you talk to when you’re in the crap.’

What does Lenny talk to God about? ‘I say, ‘Please make this gag work’.’ His childhood was tough and there is something in his make-up that suggests he is exorcising it by being a workaholic and getting it out on stage.

‘There’s an element of truth in that. It was a very working-class and hard-working home, with both Mum and Dad being at work. There wasn’t any money flying around and we didn’t have day trips to Blackpool. Posh kids could afford to have parents, but we just had a Mum and Dad.’ He went to work at 16. ‘Like being thrown into the deep end of a volcano. I once went to Sunderland and there were three people in the audience and two of them were staff.’

So what is the single most important thing about the character of Lenworth George Henry? Huge laugh. ‘I can’t tell you.’ Another howl. ‘I’m a bit of a groover on the quiet.’