Strictly Come Dancing Winner Ore Oduba Reveals 30-Year Porn Addiction Battle

When Ore Oduba stood atop the Strictly Come Dancing BBC Television Centre podium in December 2016, holding the glittering trophy with partner Joanne Clifton, few knew the quiet storm he’d been fighting for three decades. On November 4, 2025, the 39-year-old BBC presenter broke his silence on the We Need To Talk podcast, revealing he’d battled a pornography addiction since the age of nine — a secret he carried through award-winning TV roles, fatherhood, and public adoration.

A Childhood Secret, a Lifetime of Shame

Oduba’s addiction didn’t begin with curiosity. It began with trauma. "Nine, that is when my addiction started," he said, describing how early exposure to explicit material became his coping mechanism. "It was the thing I ran to — not out of pleasure, but out of pain." He never told his parents. Not after his sibling was punished for smoking, and their Nigerian-born father warned, "If this happens again, we’ll be sent back to Nigeria." That threat turned Oduba into a "master masker." He smiled on camera, hosted children’s shows like Newsround , and made families feel safe — all while his inner world was crumbling.

"It’s so shameful," he admitted. "We can’t talk about it because there’s a perceived nature to it — everything we hate, everything we despise." The silence wasn’t just cultural; it was self-imposed. He avoided intimacy. He lied about his whereabouts. He withdrew emotionally from his ex-wife, Portia Culmer, and their two children, Roman and Genie. "I was destroying my life from the inside out," he said. "And no one knew. Not even me, fully, until recently."

Breaking the Silence to Save Others

Oduba says he finally broke free a year and a half ago — after years of therapy, support groups, and confronting the root of his trauma. He didn’t do it for fame. He did it so his children wouldn’t have to hide the same pain. "I’m speaking now because I don’t want Roman and Genie to grow up thinking they’re broken for feeling something they can’t name," he told the podcast. "We’re already seeing an epidemic of problems for our young people — and we’re not talking about the real causes." His disclosure sent shockwaves across UK media. Within hours, RTE, The Telegraph, The Independent, and AOL published his story — a rare moment when a celebrity’s vulnerability became national news. What made it resonate wasn’t just the candor, but the context: a man who’d spent 15 years hosting family-friendly programming, who’d danced with grace on national TV, now admitting he’d been trapped in a private hell.

A Legacy Beyond the Dance Floor

Oduba’s career is a tapestry of public trust. He presented The National Lottery Draws , co-hosted the 2016 Summer Olympics coverage on BBC Four, and even competed in Sport Relief: Hell on High Seas , sailing 1,000 miles with celebrities like Alex Jones. His 2019 West End debut in Curtains and his role in the UK tour of Grease further cemented his status as a beloved entertainer.

But behind the lights, the applause, and the childlike enthusiasm he brought to The One Show , he was isolated. "I could make a room laugh," he said, "but I couldn’t tell my own wife what was eating me."

Why This Matters Now

His story arrives at a critical juncture. The UK’s Office for National Statistics reported a 37% rise in online pornography consumption among adolescents aged 12–17 between 2020 and 2024. Mental health charities like Mind and The Mix have warned that shame and silence are fueling a silent crisis — one that leads to anxiety, depression, and relationship breakdowns. Oduba’s openness is a lifeline. "This isn’t about morality," he said. "It’s about survival. And if talking saves even one kid from feeling alone, it’s worth it."

What’s Next?

Oduba is now working with Childline and the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy to develop a public awareness campaign targeting teens and parents. He’s also writing a memoir, tentatively titled Behind the Smile, set for release in early 2026. "I’m not trying to be a hero," he insists. "I’m just trying to be honest."

His journey reminds us: the most polished performers often carry the heaviest burdens. And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do isn’t to dance perfectly — it’s to finally stop pretending.