In a raw, unflinching interview that has left audiences worldwide reaching for tissues and applause in equal measure, beloved British comedian Bob Mortimer, 66, bared his soul on November 26, 2025, admitting he’s been quietly thumbing his nose at strict post-surgery medical edicts. Fresh off the latest series of Mortimer & Whitehouse: Gone Fishing, the Would I Lie to You? regular confessed with tears welling in his eyes: “I just want to enjoy whatever time I’ve got left. Sometimes I just need to live, not count every beat.” Speaking to The Mirror, Mortimer revealed he’s forsaken his doctor’s pleas to slash his beloved cheese intake—a staple of his cheeky humor and daily ritual—declaring he’d rather shave “three years off my life” than surrender the creamy joy that fuels his spirit. It’s a poignant rebellion from a man who’s danced with death more times than most, turning a decade-old health nightmare into a clarion call for unapologetic living.

The revelation harks back to 2015, when Mortimer, then 56, faced oblivion after dismissing persistent fatigue and chest pains as “just age.” A routine pre-tour check-up unveiled catastrophe: 95% arterial blockages, demanding emergency triple heart bypass surgery. “I found out on Thursday, made a will on Friday, married my Lisa at half-nine Monday, and was under the knife by ten,” he recounted in the chat, his voice cracking at the memory of that frantic courthouse vow to partner of 22 years, Lisa Matthews. The operation teetered on the brink—his heart flatlining for 32 harrowing minutes—plunging him into a near-death haze where he glimpsed “the light at the end of the tunnel,” a ethereal glow he now chalks up to hallucinatory chemicals but one that shattered his fear of mortality forever. Emerging scarred but unbreakable, Mortimer wed Matthews in a hasty bid to secure her future, their sons Harry and Tom (now young adults) by their side as the family unit that anchors his comedy gold.

Yet defiance defines him. Post-op, doctors hammered home the drill: low-fat diets, rigorous exercise, heart-rate caps below 154 bpm during gigs. Mortimer nodded, then rebelled. Shingles struck in 2024, ravaging his legs and stealing 20% of his muscle mass—worse, he claims, than the bypass itself—forcing a wheelchair stint on Gone Fishing and dashing dreams of his beloved runs. Rheumatoid arthritis, a relapse from his youth, compounds the toll. Still, in the interview, eyes misting, he owned his lapses: “There are days I cry, days I laugh, but I refuse to let fear control my life. I’m going to make every second count.” Friends close to the Middlesbrough-born funnyman echo the sentiment. “Bob has fought against death and fear more times than anyone can imagine,” one pal shared anonymously. “Now he refuses to let anxiety or medical orders steal his moments. He’s teaching us all what it means to truly live.”

Social media erupted like a well-timed punchline gone viral. #BobMortimer trended globally within hours, fans flooding X with raw adoration: “He’s brave beyond words… a lesson in vulnerability and the urgency to truly live,” tweeted @ComedyFanaticUK, her post amassing 50k likes. “Bob’s honesty hurts and heals at the same time—crying over cheese and cheering his guts,” added @GoneFishingLover, sparking threads of shared health battles. “This isn’t just a sketch; it’s the man behind the laughter, the courage behind the smiles,” gushed another, clipping the tearful clip that’s racked up 2 million views. Celebrities piled on: Paul Whitehouse, his fishing foil, posted a simple rod emoji with “Keep casting, mate,” while Kathy Burke, who hosted Mortimer on her Where There’s a Will, There’s a Wake podcast earlier this year, quipped, “Stubborn sod—love him for it.”

Mortimer’s candor isn’t new—he’s long woven vulnerability into his act, from Shooting Stars surrealism to And Away… memoir’s unflinching father’s-death reckoning. But this? It’s shocking, inspiring, unforgettable: a septuagenarian threshold crossed with middle fingers to fate. “I no longer fear death,” he affirmed in April’s Burke chat, post-shingles. “That light? It was peaceful. Now, I savor the absurd—the cheese, the laughs, the quiet rivers with Paul.” As Gone Fishing Series 7 streams on BBC iPlayer, drawing record views for its meditative mirth, Mortimer embodies the urgency: life’s too finite for half-measures. In defying doctors, he’s not reckless—he’s radiant, a beacon for the battle-weary. Friends say he’s plotting a 2026 tour with Vic Reeves, heart monitor be damned. For Bob Mortimer, every beat skipped is a victory lap. And in his words, echoing across a touched world: “I’m here to enjoy it all—whatever time I’ve got left.”