As a child, one of Mr Anthony Welsh’s favourite movies was Mr Steven Spielberg’s much-loved 1991 sequel to the Peter Pan stories, Hook. “I wanted to be one of the Lost Boys,” laughs the London-born actor, referring to the band of children that helps Peter defeat the film’s titular Captain. More specifically, Mr Welsh wanted to be Rufio, their troubled yet charismatic leader, boasting a sullen stare and a rock ’n’ roll, red-and-black spiked ’do. Now, at 36, Mr Welsh has left this dream behind – or has he? In his latest role, he might just have fulfilled his ambition, although, mercifully, without having to resort to the hair.

This autumn Mr Welsh plays Ham, a lovelorn fisherman, in The Personal History Of David Copperfield. The film, written and directed by Mr Armando Iannucci, is an adaptation of Mr Charles Dickens’ 1850 novel – not, as Mr Welsh first thought, a biopic of the slick 1990s magician who once dated Ms Claudia Schiffer. It marks a bit of a change for Mr Welsh, who is known for high-quality contemporary television (Black Mirror, Top Boy, Fleabag), and for gritty British indie films sich as Mr Paddy Considine’s Journeyman. You are more likely to recognise him from Channel 4’s recent Pure, a zeitgeisty drama about living with obsessive compulsive disorder, than anything stockinged or corseted. The Personal History Of David Copperfield isn’t your standard period drama, though. In Mr Iannucci’s hands, the past is dusted down to produce something vivid, pacy and irreverent, and it also benefits from what we often call “colour-blind casting”, allowing excellent actors such as Mr Welsh or Mr Dev Patel (who plays Copperfield) to appear in stories from which, in the past, they’ve mostly been barred.

“The film is such good fun,” he says. “I’m really, really proud to be part of it.” He laments that, generally, depictions of Victorian times are “washed out”, obsessed with “poverty and destitution”. Mr Iannucci just wanted to focus on “the comedy and vibrancy”, Mr Welsh says approvingly. “His whole take was: ‘They’re not living in the past. They’re living in their own modern times.’” Ham, meanwhile, is a kind soul, a friend to David through thick and thin. And, as Mr Welsh saw the final edit of this jolly, fantastical romp, “it reminded me a bit of the feeling I had when I watched Hook. It was really nice to be part of that – to be part of a world I always wanted to be part of.”

We meet one morning in a cafe in Peckham, southeast London. Someone once said Mr Welsh “must have one of the kindest faces in British acting”, and in person it’s hard to disagree – he is calm, considerate, thoroughly grounded. The son of a father who worked for Surrey Council and a mother working in the NHS, the eldest of four boys still lives near most of his family in Ealing. He may have worked with some of the edgiest voices in British television, but his own go-to programme at home is First Dates. When he’s away for work, his mother looks after his cat, an RSPCA rescue pet named Mufasa (who is apparently not very Mufasa-like, apart from having very long hair).

“I think my mum and dad have instilled a nurturing quality in me,” he says, when asked about their influence. “I like to look after the people around me. And I’m also the eldest brother, so I guess that comes naturally. But maybe I’m bigging myself up there,” he laughs. “Ask them. They might be like: ‘Nah!’”

Straight after our chat, Mr Welsh is off to his shoot for MR PORTER, modelling the latest range from cult menswear label Noah. If the brand, conceived and lovingly nurtured by Mr Brendon Babenzien, who also once served as the design brains behind Supreme, seems supremely American, and Mr Welsh strikes you as deeply British, they actually have a lot in common. Mr Babenzien’s clothes speak to men trying to navigate the fine line between edgy and classic; to those who grew up with streetwear, but are now looking to grow up properly. Mr Welsh is, he admits, very much this man.

“There’s a nice match of dressing quite maturely, but keeping a youthfulness there,” he says. “You get the comfort of casual, and then the slickness of dressing quite sharp.” On the shoot, Mr Welsh will later appreciate the pairing of a hoodie with a smart pair of trousers. It’s a bit of an evolution of his look from 20 years ago when, as a hip-hop mad teenager in west London, he sported very long unkempt hair and three hoodies. “The first one would be non-zipped, a pullover,” he says, chuckling. “The second one zipped. Third one would be a jacket. I think I pulled it off!” he insists. “But I would never do that now.” A pause. “Maybe two.”

Back in those days, Mr Welsh hadn’t considered acting as a viable profession. Even when he dreamed about being a Lost Boy, he didn’t believe it could be for him. He thought he should do something more academic, but when his A-levels in more “sensible” subjects such as computing and maths didn’t work out (“really didn’t work out”), he had to rethink everything. His uncle suggested an evening acting class, and that soon snowballed. Or as Mr Welsh puts it: “I was rolling. I was obsessed by it. Absolutely obsessed. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, I was watching everything I could.” Was he making up for lost time?

“I don’t know if I lost any time,” he replies. “I think maybe I needed to go down that route. I’ve often thought, like, what if I’d been to some kind of youth theatre school, would I have got to a place quicker? Well, maybe I wouldn’t have at all. So, I’m glad it happened how it happened. I’m glad it’s happened at all, basically.”

After studying at London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art, he quickly booked some great roles – for instance, in the boxing drama Sucker Punch, with good friend Mr Daniel Kaluuya, at the Royal Court Theatre and The Brothers Size at the Young Vic. Both are fine examples of black writers and black performers getting the chance to take centre-stage. Has there been as much progress in terms of diversity, in the last decade, as people say? “I think there has been a change, but there’s still some way to go.” Speaking of, he isn’t so keen on the term “colour-blind casting”. “It suggests that you are blind to the colour,” he explains. “I want you to see it – to see it and accept it, you know? It’s cool to see that I look this way.”

After Copperfield, the next project Mr Welsh appears in is, surprisingly perhaps, another period drama. Like Copperfield, though, it is a defiantly contemporary take on an old story. In The Trial Of Christine Keeler, due to air on the BBC later this year, a new series re-treads the notorious Profumo affair from the 1960s. In this complex scandal involving call girls, government ministers and spies, the British establishment was thoroughly rocked – and at the centre of it all was Ms Christine Keeler, a 19-year-old woman who was “manipulated, in some senses, by a bunch of older men who had their own intentions,” says Mr Welsh. “I think there’s a parallel with that and what’s happening now, with the #MeToo movement and Time’s Up. How women are now able to come in with more power to tell their own stories.”

In the new show, Mr Welsh plays Aloysius “Lucky” Gordon, a Jamaica-born singer who was almost deranged by his obsession with Ms Keeler. It wasn’t an easy role, says Mr Welsh, because Mr Gordon was a real person and he wanted to do him justice. Equally though, he admits, “it’s fun to play someone who’s a bit emotionally unhinged at times”. And it’s clear that’s the stuff he’s hankering for next. In fact, his characteristically innocent face – with its wide, soft brown eyes – could almost be a hindrance. He is capable of being far more than a love interest or a sweet hero. It’s roles in films such as Journeyman, a gruelling boxing saga he had to train at length for, or the gritty prison drama Starred Up, that he has found the most satisfying and challenging.

“There comes a stage where you have to say, ‘Well, I’m doing more than that’,” he says of his work – but typically, he thinks it’s ungracious to moan. “Champagne problems,” he smiles.

The Personal History Of David Copperfield is out in January