Are people afraid that by inhabiting a foolish character for days on end, they themselves might become foolish? Even with Steve, it’s often difficult to tell where Del ends and he begins.

“That was so Del,” he told me when describing a trip he took to Catalonia which involved being baked inside a wedding cake.

Sir David Jason accidentally echoed this when he met Steve for an event in 2020.

“You’re more like me than I am!” he said.

Booze and confinement led to a difficult atmosphere in the house. After one argument, Elaine got up and left, going to live on her own in a house they owned together in Wigan. Steve was now on his own.

“I just sat here, pouring drinks, watching films, pouring drinks, watching films…"

Steve tried to stop drinking while he was at his peak in 2022. He went cold-turkey from spirits, which was too much for his body to handle.

“Stopped drinking on the Friday, stopped eating on the Sunday.

“By chance, my mate came round on Wednesday, found me on the floor passed out.”

An ambulance was called, and Steve was taken to the hospital. When he regained consciousness, the doctor warned him:

“Do not stop drinking like that again. It’ll kill you.”

The lack of income combined with his drinking led to severe money issues. Before the pandemic, he tells me, he was nigh-on a millionaire, owning several properties and a boat, but soon he was struggling.

“I never thought I’d be in this position. Never.

“That’s why I got so depressed.”

"Once people hear you've been drinking they expect it of you"

Steve’s issues were compounded when he tripped and fell walking back into his house after a shopping trip. The bags in his hands prevented him from protecting himself.

“Next thing I know, it was a couple of days later and I was in hospital, all these pipes in me.

I wouldn’t have minded if I was p****d, but I honestly wasn’t. But once people hear you’ve been drinking they expect it of you.”

Not only had Steve given himself a concussion, he’d knocked out several of his front teeth.

Steve’s trade is one that relies on looks. Any discrepancy between Steve and Del Boy is a barrier preventing Steve from getting back to work. Unfortunately, Steve can no longer afford to fix the damage.

The job also requires Steve to remain sharp – another quality damaged by the fall.

“My words get stuck. I know what I want to say but it doesn’t come out.”

As he told me this, he sat sideways on his prop suitcase, breaking it. This is the same suitcase he’d had for his entire 30+ year career.

“Been with me all over the world, that,” he said.

This inability to work is particularly difficult for Steve, who’s spent so long playing the extraverted Cockney that it's as if their personalities have bled into one another. During our conversations, the times Steve seems most like himself are when he’s pretending to be someone else.

“Haven’t put all this on in years,” he told me, grinning, after coming downstairs in full Del Boy kit.

We went outside to take pictures in front of the vans - one of which, he tells me, is the one from the original show.

As we were outside, the postwoman happened to walk by with some letters.

“Oi oi oi!” said Steve, in character.

“I’ve not seen you like that before,” she said, laughing.

He pulled out a leather-bound Filofax.

“See this, here? Propa crocodile skin, this. Propa Steve Irwin stuff. Cushty! 'Ave a look at that.”

He’d clearly been waiting a long time to get performing – if only for an audience of two.

It’s not like the work has dried up either. During our interview, he got a call.

“Bloody London. They want me to do Del Boy.”

“Who from London?”

“An agent. They want me to perform but I’m just not well enough.”

Things stayed like this for a few years with little improvement. All day he’d sit around watching old TV shows and drinking hard spirits, avoiding calls from people offering work.

While going up the stars, I saw the phrase ‘we love you dad’ sharpied on the wall.

Steve was assigned a doctor to monitor his health. During a test, recommended Steve look into a local food charity known as ‘The Bread-and-Butter Thing’.

It’s a name Steve already knew – he’d volunteered to do deliveries for them before COVID, taking truckloads of food from warehouses to distribution centres.

As they all meet at the same time every week, the hub members get to know each other quite well. It also gives Steve a chance to slip back into Del.

“Nobody calls me Steve. They only know me as Del Boy.”

Steve also attends meetings at Christians against Poverty – which he refers to as ‘the hub’ - a charity specialising in debt counselling for people in difficult situations. Like TBBT, they also provide food, operating more like a traditional food bank. It also gives members an opportunity to get out and socialise.         

Steve has a friend from the charity - Donna - who comes to his house to knit while they watch TV together, as well as a social worker who comes round to check on his wellbeing.

He’s managed to cut down on his drinking as well, substituting hard spirits for lager. He told me that if I’d come round a few months earlier we wouldn’t even have been able to have a conversation - I wouldn’t have been able to understand him.

All this goes to show that Steve is now focussed on his work again, even if currently unable to perform. This is promising. I asked him if he thinks he’ll manage it.

“I have to,” he said. “Everybody’s telling me: do it.”

After everything that’s happened over the last few years; after splitting from his partner, after the drink, after the fall, after the trips in and out of hospital, full of tubes and not even knowing where he is, Steve’s determination comes across as deeply admirable.

“This time next year”, he told me, “I’ll be a millionaire!”