The actor Ray Winstone, who is best known for his depictions of men muddled in criminality, has a torso so large and legs so thin that seeing him enter the breakfast lounge of a London hotel is like watching a barrel walk in on stilts. Winstone is 67 now. In real life he resembles the characters he has spent a career perpetuating on screen. He maintains the east London accent he developed in childhood. He swears gruffly and nonstop. He chuckles at calling people “fuckers”. It would surprise no one if he were voted film and television’s most specific brand. When, partway through our discussion, I ask if he’s ever troubled by people considering him professionally one-dimensional, he replies, “Not one fucking bit – you typecast yourself.” Then, showing off a bawdy sense of humour that is never far from the surface, he adds, “I’ll play a woman if you want. But you probably wouldn’t like my legs.”
