Readers are getting a close-up view of Russell T Davies’ life in television, from Queer as Folk and Doctor Who to his new memoir, The Queerest of Folk. The book matters because it swaps polished career hindsight for the messy, emotional reality of making queer stories, while reflecting on grief, love and the creative risks that shaped modern British TV.

Essential Takeaways

  • A process-led memoir: Davies focuses on deadlines, rewrites, budgets and production pressures, rather than simply listing his biggest successes.
  • Queer television has changed: Stories once dismissed as too gay now sit at the centre of mainstream drama, according to coverage of his work.
  • Grief shaped the writing: The death of Davies’ husband, Andrew Smith, influenced later work, including It’s a Sin.
  • Doctor Who still offers escape: Davies links science fiction’s camp, fantasy and transformation to its particular resonance with queer audiences.
  • The story continues: His relationship with Oliver has given him a fresh perspective and may inspire his next major love story.

The memoir goes behind the screen

The most revealing thing about The Queerest of Folk is its refusal to treat television as a tidy succession of triumphs. Davies is interested in the late-night panic, the missing actor, the budget problem and the deadline that suddenly turns a confident production into controlled chaos.

That makes the book feel less like a conventional celebrity memoir and more like a working document from inside British television. The Guardian’s review describes Davies as a screenwriter who tells the story plainly, an approach that suits a career built on emotional directness and sharp observation.

For aspiring writers, producers and directors, that practical detail may be the real draw. A finished episode can look effortless on screen, but the route to it is usually noisy, improvised and full of compromises. Davies wants readers to feel that pressure, rather than admire the gloss from a safe distance.

From Queer as Folk to a much wider television landscape

When Queer as Folk arrived in 1999, its world felt deliberately loud. The language was provocative, the sex was unapologetic and the Manchester setting had a fizzing, nightlife energy that still catches the eye.

Davies remains surprised by its nerve. The fashions may now look dated, but the show’s attitude has survived because it wasn't designed to please everyone. That quality helps explain why it remains such an important reference point in discussions about British queer television.

The wider landscape is dramatically different. As The Guardian has noted in coverage of Davies’ career, queer stories have moved from the margins into a much broader television culture, alongside shows such as Heartstopper, Big Boys and Heated Rivalry. The progress isn't complete, but viewers no longer have to search quite so hard for themselves on screen.

Grief became part of the writing

Davies’ relationship with his late husband, Andrew Smith, is central to the memoir’s emotional weight. When Andrew became ill, Davies stopped working to care for him, a decision he describes as deeply important. Later, while making Years and Years, he was still carrying the reality of Andrew’s decline.

That experience informed Colin’s death in It’s a Sin, including details drawn from Andrew’s physical condition. It’s a striking example of how personal memory can enter a drama without becoming a simple copy of real life.

Yet Davies is careful not to suggest that suffering is a qualification for writing. Imagination, he argues, can reach beyond personal experience, while ordinary heartbreak is already something almost everyone understands. The Guardian’s reporting on his life and work similarly places love and grief alongside his professional achievements, rather than treating them as separate stories.

Why science fiction speaks so clearly to queer audiences

Davies’ Doctor Who work has long been associated with theatricality, emotion and flamboyant invention. He sees science fiction as particularly welcoming to queer viewers because it offers both camp and escape: strange costumes, impossible worlds and the freedom to imagine a different set of rules.

That helps explain why his work can move so easily between intimate relationships and sweeping political warnings. Years and Years used speculative drama to explore social anxiety, authoritarianism and technological change, while later projects such as Tip Toe have continued his interest in uncomfortable futures.

Coverage from What to Watch and TechRadar shows the continuing interest around Tip Toe, particularly because it sits within Davies’ familiar territory of queer identity, political unease and speculative storytelling. His predictions aren't always right, of course, but the instinct behind them is recognisable: look at today's worries and ask what happens if nobody intervenes.

The arguments are part of queer storytelling

Davies doesn't present queer culture as a finished project with every disagreement neatly resolved. Debates over representation, casting and whose stories should be told are, in his view, evidence of a community still defining itself in public.

That can be uncomfortable, but it also keeps the conversation active. The industry may be more welcoming than it was when Davies was first pitching scripts, yet progress hasn't removed the need to argue for visibility or challenge lazy portrayals.

His position is refreshingly unsentimental. There will never be a perfect society, and queer television won't suddenly reach a point where everyone agrees on what counts as authentic. That may be frustrating, but it also leaves room for new voices, bolder ideas and the kind of imaginative work Davies has championed throughout his career.

A new love story may be waiting

The memoir isn't a farewell to writing. Davies has made that clear, and his relationship with Oliver has brought a younger outlook into his life, including a humorous reminder that watching film clips can sometimes replace watching the films themselves.

That detail gives the book a warmer ending than a straightforward career retrospective. Andrew remains part of Davies’ emotional world, while his new relationship opens a different chapter rather than erasing the previous one.

So, could the next project be his long-promised big gay love story? Davies has left the possibility hanging in the air. For audiences who have followed his work from Queer as Folk to Doctor Who, it sounds less like a marketing line and more like a genuinely intriguing next act.

The Queerest of Folk: A Life in Television is published by Penguin and is available to buy now.

A good memoir doesn't just revisit the past; it shows why the next story still matters.

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