Martin Kemp, renowned for his role as Steve Owen in EastEnders and as the bassist for Spandau Ballet, has revealed poignant insights into his life after surviving two brain tumours in his thirties. The diagnosis led to a significant health scare that necessitated surgery, during which two metal plates were inserted into his head. This challenging period forced Kemp to step away from his career for three years while he focused on recovery.
The tumours resulted in “controlled epilepsy,” and Kemp continues to deal with mobility issues in one leg and vision problems. Remarkably, he also believes the tumours contributed to the development of his dyslexia.
Now 63, Kemp openly shares a sobering mindset—he does not expect to live beyond the next decade, a reality that has inspired heartfelt conversations with his son, Roman Kemp, a presenter on The One Show. On the You About? podcast, Roman recounted their discussions about mortality and legacy. When he asked his father what he wanted to be remembered as, Martin simply said, “A good man.”
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Roman found this answer both powerful and thought-provoking. He reflected on what it truly means to be a “good man,” noting that it transcends professional success or public acclaim. This ideal prompts Roman to introspect about his own life and character, questioning whether goodness is about how we treat others or staying authentic to ourselves—realizing that pleasing everyone is impossible.
The Kemp family’s candid dialogue continued on their joint podcast, FFS! My Dad is Martin Kemp, where Martin discussed how those years after his diagnosis felt like living under the shadow of death. Every additional year beyond that has become “a bonus” to him. He also shared his wishes for a modest funeral: a private gathering of no more than 20 close people, preferring intimacy over large, obligatory attendance. In fact, he joked that only six might come, including his dog.
Martin’s desire for a low-key farewell was influenced by past experiences, such as a birthday party he hosted with his brother Gary Kemp, which he found uncomfortable due to the pressure it placed on guests to attend. He emphasized that his funeral should not be about appearances or public displays but about genuine goodbyes from those who truly care. “I want a private funeral,” he said, “with only those who want to say goodbye, because that’s who I am.”
Through his openness, Martin Kemp offers a rare glimpse into his resilience and values—where being remembered as a good man holds more significance than fame or fortune, and where genuine connection trumps public spectacle.