Nick Moran’s first real encounter with Dave Courtney felt like a deleted scene from Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Hosted at the Great Eastern Hotel by a Diesel exec with money to burn, the guest list included Malcolm McLaren, Courtney’s partner, and Moran himself — surrounded by champagne, chaos, and eccentric company. “It was a proper mad one,” Nick recalled. “Malcolm would hold court, then Dave would start talking about how to get away with murder.”
The Original Celebrity Gangster
While most gangsters stayed in the shadows, Dave Courtney craved — and created — his own spotlight. “He was probably the first celebrity gangster,” Nick said. “The Krays had it, sure, but Dave did it with a wink. He wanted to be famous.”
He wasn’t just a face around the clubs — he was the guy running the doors, appearing in tabloids, and even writing a prison diary column for Nick’s Scene magazine. “He’d send me wild stories from inside, some of it real, some not — but all of it hilarious.”
From Hardman to Comedy Gold
When Nick began casting his indie comedy Baby Juice Express, Dave came to mind immediately. “He walked into the audition like a pit bull in a tux — all serious, trying to be scary. It was unintentionally hysterical.”
Nick gave him one simple note: “Just act like you’re telling a joke in a pub.” That unlocked Dave’s comic timing, and he turned out to be a revelation — albeit with his entourage in tow. “Of course, we had to give roles to Seymour, Bad Boy Bailey, and the rest of his crew. That’s the deal with Dave.”
Gifts, Gangsters, and Harley-Davidson Justice
Dave’s life was laced with absurdity. Once, he gifted Nick a knuckle duster. “If the police stop you, just say it’s from Dave Courtney,” he said. “They’ll let you off.”
His Harley? Had his own face airbrushed onto the petrol tank with the words: ‘One Bastard, One Nice Bloke.’ When it got nicked, Dave's crew tracked the thief, tied him up, and retrieved the bike. “No one was ever nicking that thing again,” Nick laughed. “I asked if he’d paint his face on my front door.”
The Man Behind the Persona
Despite the bravado, Dave carried real weight — as a man and as a character. “He wanted to be a boxer originally,” Nick shared. “But after getting battered by another up-and-comer, that dream died.” Instead, he drifted into enforcement, writing, storytelling — and myth-making.
Towards the end, health issues crept in. Rumors of arthritis, maybe even cancer. When news broke of his passing, it shocked many. “He was the last person you’d expect,” Nick said. “But maybe he wanted to go on his terms. That takes a strange kind of courage.”
The Theatre That Refused to Close
Outside of Dave’s world, Nick was carving his own path — writing, directing, and hustling just as hard, but behind the camera. His first big move came with Telstar, a biographical play and later film about music producer Joe Meek.
When the London bombings emptied West End theatres, many tried to pull the plug. But Simon Jordan, former Crystal Palace chairman and surprise patron of the arts, stepped in. “He literally said, ‘This show doesn’t close.’ And he wrote the cheque every week to keep it alive.”
From Red Carpets to Real Pain: The Kid
Nick’s proudest film might be The Kid, a raw, autobiographical look at Kevin Lewis’s life in care homes, abuse, and redemption. It struck a deep chord with working-class audiences — even if middle-class critics didn’t get it.
“They’d say, ‘That’s not believable,’” Nick scoffed. “Well, I shot that on my old council estate. That guy with the bulldog and Union Jack shirt — he wasn’t in costume. That’s real.”
He wanted gritty realism with rock-and-roll flair — slow-mo fights, music montages, but always grounded in truth. And in The Kid, you got all of it.
Karate, Millwall, and Staying Grounded
In his 40s, Nick took up karate again — originally sparked by training with Guy Ritchie. “I just wanted to get my black belt before 50,” he said. “It got me fit, focused, and gave me discipline.”
But the streets still tested him. A Millwall fan once caused trouble in a restaurant. “I got him outside, told him to leave, he wouldn’t… one move later, he’s on the ground. I went full Christmas Batman.” His wife, horrified, reminded him, “You’re not actually Batman.”
What’s Next: Forgeries and Fistfights
Nick’s got a new film in the works — Picasso Before Breakfast, a cheeky British art forgery caper based on real Brighton hustlers who once used frozen coins to empty cigarette machines.
“It’s like a modern-day Ealing comedy. Victimless crime, full of wit, and some of the most genius low-level scams I’ve ever heard.”
He’s also got a Hollywood film (Chief of Station) with Aaron Eckhart coming out, but don’t expect action scenes: “I’m just the head of the KGB, pointing cigars at people.”
Take Him As You Find Him
Dave Courtney may not have been everyone’s cup of tea — but to Nick, he was unforgettable. “He was funny, outrageous, and loved being talked about.”
And that tattoo — the one his girlfriend had on her back, Dave’s face smoking a cigar — said it all. “Only Dave could come up with something like that. So when I’m behind her, I can look at myself.”
Whether it was through jokes, chaos, or a gentle wink from behind the myth, Dave Courtney lived like few dared — in full color.