If I have a skill of any sort – and, over the years, commissioning editors, comedy audiences and casting directors have offered thrillingly varied feedback on this topic – it’s in maintaining long-term friendships. I have a group of schoolmates who’ve known each other since we were 11, and all remain in close, regular contact. We are one another’s shoulders to cry on, voices of encouragement and moral support, and, whenever we can overcome the mounting administrative logistics of adult life, drinking companions.

My career has had a friendship at its core, too. I’ve toured the world as part of a comedy double act, none of which would have worked if my comedy partner Ivan and I hadn’t been, well, best mates.

Over the years, my friends and I have counselled one another through break-ups, toasted marriages, celebrated the births of children and stood side by side at the funerals of parents. Some running jokes and rituals stretch back decades. We organised an elaborate series of surprise birthday parties for one another when we turned 18, something we returned to, and built upon, when we all turned 30.

In fact, surprise parties are something akin to my love language. When Ivan got engaged, I organised a weekend full of plot twists (spoiler alert: it culminated in me re-forming his teenage rock band in front of a sold-out concert audience, for the headline gig that he never got to play). My mates and I look out for each other, we take care of one another. And, yes, we tell one another we love each other.

I am well aware of how good I have it. Men generally report having fewer friends than women, and those friendships they do have are often less engaged. A 2019 YouGov survey indicated that 32 per cent of men don’t have a best friend at all. And, of those that do, six in 10 men have never told their best friend they love them, according to November 2025 report.

Now, it’s worth pointing out that the data in this survey was, admittedly, commissioned by a trendy beer company seeking to release something hook-y (and it succeeded, clearly – well played, Beavertown). But it does speak to a core truth that men still often find dealing with their emotions and their intrapersonal friendships harder than women do.

In 2026, it can feel like a balance that’s unbelievably hard to get right. On the one hand, men risk suppressing their emotions, keeping things bottled up like the generations before us and living siloed, emotionally stunted lives. On the other, there’s the increasing trend – amplified by the podcast industrial complex – for wide-eyed, slightly American-feeling commodification of talking about one’s emotions. Which, in turn, is increasingly dismissed with the catch-all shorthand “men’s mental health” by irony-poisoned cynics of the internet. The thing is, sure, Beavertown’s campaign (in conjunction with the Campaign Against Living Miserably) exhorting men to “tell their mates they love them” might feel contrived, but it’s not wrong.

You should strengthen your connections to the people who are important to you. Underscore the feelings you have with actions. Because there will come a time when you haven’t said all the things you wish you’d said, at which point it’s all too late.

Friendships are one of life’s important through-lines. They can be a repository of collective memory, people who’ve seen you at all manner of stages of development (meaning, yes, they might remember your “Hawaiian shirt and blonde frosted tips” era, as much as you might wish to forget it). But new friendships can be equally important – workmates, antenatal mates, dog-walking mates – people can fall into your life at any moment. And if their connection to you is a positive one, it’s important to celebrate it.

I recently stumbled into a chance to practice what I preach. When I booked a weekend with my wife in Lake Como, and she realised at the last moment that work commitments meant she wouldn’t be able to make it, I called one of my oldest mates, Danny. He leapt at the offer and we spent a delightful break together (particularly as I forgot to change any of the romantic itinerary) catching up and putting the world to rights.

It was silly, it was fun, but it was also important. I don’t prefer my mates to my wife, but having true friends is every bit as important to me as having a lifelong partner. And it’s important they know it.

“Thanks so much”, Danny messaged me once he got home from Italy. “Love you, man ❤️”.

“Love you too, brother ❤️” I texted back.