'Big Brother is the most important show on TV'
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"I think it was a bit too short. My girlfriend said: 'Grow your hair, it looks like I'm going out with someone from the National Front!'"
There's something incredibly likable about 34-year-old O'Leary. Men appreciate the self-deprecating charm, women fancy him. In addition to presenting Big Brother's Little Brother, a complementary discussion show to Big Brother, he has a BBC radio show and has just been announced as the new host of The X Factor.
But he's still very much a working-class Irish boy, and he's bright: his degree was in media and politics at Middlesex University.
We meet three days before Ofcom publicly rebuked Channel 4 for its handling of the Celebrity Big Brother race row. You might expect O'Leary to be tight-lipped, but he is as open as ever.
Every year Channel 4 pleads with him to do media training, but that would go against the O'Leary grain.
"I just end up answering honestly. If you make a mistake and say sorry, it's much better than thinking, 'I shouldn't say this.'" He sees himself as the viewers' representative: "You try and treat it like a blue-collar job."
We need O'Leary. He's less macho than Johnny Vaughan, funnier than Vernon Kaye. He can think on his feet and loves those raw, unscripted moments. He compares TV presenting to hosting a damn good party: you've got two million people in your house and you need to make sure they've all got a drink.
But don't be fooled - he takes broadcasting very seriously. One day he'd like to be another David Dimbleby, or at least a Terry Wogan. He has his own production company, Murfia (slang for the Irish Mafia). He knows there's a difference between presenting fluffy populist shows and making a one-off documentary like his film on Catholicism. But, as he argues, why can't you do both?
The X Factor job represents a move to the major league. He's clearly thrilled, but admits to a few sleepless nights. "I'd wake up thinking, 'You have to take it. You've got to step up and do a mainstream show.'"
But the shadow of Shilpa-gate still hangs over everything. During the new series of BB, Channel 4 will have to make a grovelling on-screen apology before every episode. Arguably the most damaging accusation levelled at O'Leary and Davina McCall was that that they went lightly on grilling Jade Goody because they all shared an agent, John Noel.
"The conspiracy theorists are just hysterical," he insists. "I'd love to bring them down there and say, 'Do you think we're that organised?'"
As for the politicians who queued up to knock the show when they hadn't even watched it, he says, "I was furious. They were so grossly opinionated about it. [But] it provoked a debate that only they could dream of doing."
O'Leary was born in Colchester in 1973 to Irish immigrant parents "made good". He had an incredibly happy childhood, and credits his family with keeping him sane.
But he wasn't a romantic hit at school - did this fuel his early ambition? "There was absolutely an ego there. That sense of 'Well, I'll show you!'"
He worked as a DJ at Radio Essex, and then as a TV runner and researcher. He got the job presenting T4, then in 2001 Endemol gave him Big Brother's Little Brother. For a time his career plateaued. He became 'King of Pain', fronting endurance shows such as SAS: Are You Tough Enough?.
Then he got the job at Radio 2. "You find out who you are on radio. It's very unforgiving, which is good."
O'Leary is a committed Catholic who uses contraception and has gay friends. And he champions properly interesting women - he raves about Ruth Wilson, who played Jane Eyre in the BBC adaptation, and singer Lily Allen.
He says he's never taken a presenting job for the money "because it will turn round and bite you on the arse". He's very funny about his early mistakes: the trashy TV series he made on Ibiza, the M&M advert, the terrible night he hosted the Elle Style Awards.
As for being a geeky sex symbol: "I've just been in America and women didn't look at me twice, whereas here, people say, 'You're a sex symbol.' I think confidence and independence are the two most attractive qualities."
His heroes are straight-talkers such as Gordon Ramsay and Simon Cowell. In Big Brother's Little Brother, he's not averse to kicking BB in the shins, but defends the show passionately. He reminds me it pays for all the edgy drama on Channel 4 such as Shameless. And, he argues, it is a still a valid social experiment.
"You've just got to look harder for it. Two years ago, Desmond Morris sent me an email saying: 'Look, this is still the best case-study in human behaviour I can imagine.'"
Of course Channel 4 should have intervened over the racist bullying, but O'Leary has been consistent about Jade. She is, he argues, famous for doing nothing. It was a bad move for her to re-enter the house and remind us of the fact.
"It was a genuine modern-day parable of showbiz and how we treat the myth of celebrity. I thought that it was the best BB of all time because it showed that.
"Jade's main problem is no one's ever had a reasonable conversation with her. No one's ever sat her down. She hasn't had any schooling in using moderation and thinking through an argument and compromise and humility. It's all been 'Who can shout the loudest?'
"And that's what we saw: one girl, egged on by two other girls, turn on a slightly haughty, upper-middle-class, very graceful woman, by and large out of jealousy."
There's nothing cynical about O'Leary, and he's in it for the long haul. He'd love a chat show by the age of 40 but admits he needs more life experience: "My only problem might be I'm very happy. There really isn't that much mystery."
Let's hope he manages to balance the blockbusters with more quirky, indie projects. But first there's BB8. "When I eventually walk away, or it does finish, it's a great thing for me to be able to say, 'You know what? For the best part of 10 years I worked on the most important show on television.'"
