From scene-stealing comedic roles in Plebs and Brassic to a dramatic turn in The Crown and now creating and starring in Sky’s hit comedy Mr Bigstuff, Ryan Sampson has carved a career defined by range, wit, and emotional honesty. In this exclusive interview with LEWIS Magazine, the Rotherham-born actor and writer opens up about transforming personal loss into heartfelt storytelling, navigating the tonal shifts between British sitcoms and prestige drama, and the surreal reality of seeing his own face tattooed on fans.
Ryan Sampson x LEWIS Magazine
“Mr Bigstuff” was your brainchild before it was your starring vehicle. What single spark convinced you the premise could stretch from a sketch into a whole series—and how did that moment change your writing process?
I think that’s when I started writing it out from a spec pilot script into being a full series, I realised that I had to use a lot of my own life. We lost my mum some years ago, and she was the best person I ever knew. Glen and Lee’s relationship is overshadowed by their Mum, her loss shimmers behind all of the arguments. Obviously, it’s a fun comedy, but I’d like to think that it’s underpinned with a lot of reality.
You’ve laced up Tommo’s boots for seven series of “Brassic”. What subtle tweak have you added to him each season that only eagle-eyed viewers might spot?
Good question! Well the haircuts have changed substantially thank god, I don’t look great with a skin fade. Also there was that one series where I was really tubby because Aaron (who plays Ash) convinced me to do a ‘dirty bulk’…. I think the truth is that he’s just gotten more and more three dimensional. It’s weird that now I can slip into Tommo, I know what he’d say in any given situation. It’s lovely, but also I think I am actually really going to miss him, strangely enough.
Jumping from ITV’s knockabout “Plebs” to Netflix’s prestige juggernaut “The Crown” demanded a different toolkit. Which acting muscle did you have to retrain most—and how?
I think it’s about understanding or working out the tone. TV acting can be really varied in that sometimes a heightened performance is what’s needed, other times you need to go smaller and more realistic. It’s a sort of unspoken through line that you can dial up or down according to the type of show, but working out exactly where it sits is the tricky part.
When ‘Writer Ryan’ and ‘Actor Ryan’ clash in the edit suite, what’s the tiebreaker?
Always always writer. I’ll happily cut my lines if Danny is doing something funnier. Besides, my face without facial hair (a la Glen in Mr Bigstuff) is really not something I like to spend much time looking at. The moustache hides my singular lack of top lip.
Your first professional gig was at Sheffield’s Crucible. What vow did 19 year old you make to yourself as the house lights went down on opening night—and have you kept it?
Not to vomit on stage. The lad is / was nervy as f*ck. No public vomitry yet, praise god.
Which accent has tortured you the most—and which one now slips out at parties after two pints?
I am an absolute accent nerd. Did you know, your surroundings shape the amount of tension in your diaphragm and your throat, so accents are shaped over time by how built up or open your landscape is. It’s pretty riveting stuff, to me at least. In terms of accents I like to do, I’m partial to ripping off my friend Terry who has an amazingly broad Newcastle one. The hardest one for me is Northern Irish, except I’ve been slowly taught it by being around the excellent Bronagh Gallagher who plays Carol on Brassic.
Looking back at the kid growing up in Rotherham, which milestone would shock him more: seeing “Created by Ryan Sampson” onscreen, becoming a meme as Grumio, or playing Shakespeare at the National—and why?
I think it’d be the many tattoos some people have on their legs of Grumio. My face on some bloke’s thigh will never not be weird. But of this list, it’s got to be ‘created by’. I didn’t even know you could write TV until I was like 23. I remember the first time I met a TV writer it blew my mind. I’d always thought I was going to be an interior designer because I grew up religiously watching changing rooms, and somehow wanting to be Laurence Llewelyn Bowen. What a weird ambition, on reflection. I could never pull off the flouncy cuffs.
