Roman Kemp: Why Communication Is More Important Than Ever | E123

Roman pushes back against the idea that he is simply ‘lucky’ because of famous parents. He defines luck as “when preparation meets opportunity,” crediting years of low-paid or ‘rubbish’ jobs, late-night shifts, and constant practice for his rapid rise in radio. He encourages people to create their own jobs, build the skills first, then be ready when an opening—like an odd time slot or a demo—appears.

Cleaning toilets in a gym and doing 1–4 a.m. radio slots gave Roman skills, humility, and “air miles” that more glamorous paths wouldn’t. Because bosses weren’t listening at 1 a.m., he could make mistakes, learn the desk, and experiment. He advises younger presenters to take any slot or job they can get and consciously mine it for at least one learning: that lesson will prevent far bigger mistakes later.

Roman describes Joe—the smiliest, most outgoing person in their circle—as the last person he’d suspect. Joe knew all about Roman’s depression but never shared his own struggles, leaving no note and few clues. Roman learned that over 70% of men who die by suicide don’t really believe in ‘mental health disorders’ and just see suicide as a way to stop intolerable pain, not as an illness or an attention-seeking act.

Roman argues telling struggling men to ‘open up’ is unrealistic; in crisis, that’s the last thing many want to do. Instead, he insists friends must initiate, and re-initiate, deeper check-ins. He promotes the ‘ask twice’ rule: ask “Are you okay?” early in a conversation, then again later more pointedly. He’s confident that if most people picked three close friends and did this, they’d uncover something serious in at least one.

Roman spent two months hating Joe after his death, feeling abandoned and furious about the pain dumped on family and friends—illustrating that suicide doesn’t erase suffering, it redistributes it to an estimated 180 people per case. He emphasizes that while suicide isn’t simply a ‘selfish’ act from the person’s perspective, the aftermath is devastating and final, and most who survive attempts later say, in effect, “I made a mistake.”