Dave Courtney, London “gangster” and the self-proclaimed “most dangerous man in Britain,” was not just any criminal. He was a man who lived large in both life and myth, a figure whose notoriety transcended his criminal exploits and slipped, often uncomfortably, into the limelight. The man who once walked the dark streets of London’s criminal underworld later came to embody the role of a larger-than-life media personality, a man both adored and derided for his unapologetic bravado and his claim to a personal code of honour. But more than anything, Dave Courtney’s legacy is inextricably tied to Camelot Castle, the sprawling, bizarre, frankly ridiculous, mansion he called home. This was no ordinary residence—Camelot Castle was, in Courtney’s own words, both a sanctuary and a fortress, a place where the mythology of knights and chivalry collided with the reality of a man who had spent much of his life outside the law.
The House That Dave Built
If Dave Courtney had one thing in abundance, it was ego. A rare and potent brew of charisma, bravado, and ruthless self-belief, this same ego would build him an unlikely celebrity, but also draw constant fire from critics. In the 1990s, after achieving a certain notoriety as a gangster, he would purchase a property in Plumstead, South East London, and turn it into his own “castle”.
Camelot Castle, with its mock medieval architecture and outlandish style, reflected Dave Courtney’s desire for both grandeur and contradiction. The name itself is, of course, a reference to the legendary court of King Arthur—a symbol of nobility, honour, and chivalry. Whether this was a self-aggrandising gesture, a serious tribute, or just the mark of a man with a taste for the flamboyant, one could never quite say. But what is certain is that Camelot Castle quickly became as much a part of his persona as his celebrity autobiography, Dodgy Dave, or his television appearances. Courtney built himself a kingdom—literally—where he could be both the king and the fool.
A blue plaque on the wall reads: “David J Courtney born 17.2.1959 amusing raconteur, prolific author and infamous f***er resides here.”
The suburban house turned with its OTT castle glow-up was a curious sight for anyone driving down the South East London street. Inside, the aesthetic was pure Dave: a mishmash of medieval knighthood and gangster chic. The house was peppered with swords, shields, and suits of armour, fake guns, numerous pictures of the late Queen, gold lion paintings, a jacuzzi, a pool table and cinema room/private nightclub.
“Do you know what I’ve got in this house?” Courtney once boasted to a reporter. “I’ve got more swords than any knight you’ve ever seen. And I’ve got a bloody lot of them.”
Everything was designed to create the illusion of grandeur, of a man who had outgrown the tough streets of South London and now lived in a fairy-tale world of his own making.
Yet, amid the pageantry and medieval trappings, the house contained many reminders of Dave Courtney’s real past. A wall of photos and criminal memorabilia served as a testament to his years spent in the underworld. The apparent tension between these two worlds—Camelot’s fantasy and the gritty reality of Courtney’s life—was never far from the surface. And this tension, in many ways, would define the man himself: a person who wanted to escape the harshness of his past but couldn’t quite shake it.
The Mural
The mural on the wall of Camelot Castle is one of its most striking features—a sprawling work of “art” that seems to encapsulate both the grandeur and contradictions of its owner, Dave Courtney. In typical Courtney fashion, the mural isn’t simply a piece of decoration; it’s a symbol of the man himself: bold, over-the-top, undeniably self-referential and frankly more than a little bit ridiculous.
The mural stretches across an entire wall mixing elements of medieval fantasy with Courtney’s personal mythology. Courtney sits on a gold knuckle duster throne surround on either side by notorious names from the criminal underworld: the Kray twins, Lenny McLean, Joey Pyle, Charlie Richardson, Ronnie Biggs, John Gotti, Roy Shaw, Freddie Foreman, Howard Marks and Al Capone.
“And I’m stuck right in the middle of it, me and a bunch of mates,” he said.
A Man of Honour?
Courtney’s self-image was always tied to the concept of “honour.” In his book and interviews, he often referred to himself as a man who adhered to a strict personal code, one that governed his life in crime, as well as his later years in the public eye. Whether this was true or merely a fabrication of self-promotion is, of course, a matter of debate. His frequent proclamations of loyalty—both to his friends and to the criminal code—were certainly convincing. “I’ve never grassed anyone in my life,” he would insist, and many of his followers would take these words at face value.
But like many figures in the world of crime, Courtney was dogged by suspicion, particularly in later years, when the whispers of betrayal began to surface. There were those who suggested that, in his younger days, Courtney had been a “grass” — a term used in the criminal world to describe a person who betrays their associates to the police. Courtney denied these allegations with the kind of forceful rhetoric that could only come from someone who believed the myth of themselves. “I’ve been through hell to build my name, and I’m not going to have it tarnished by anyone,” he would say in one particularly defiant interview. But such was the nature of the underworld that the rumours could never fully be eradicated.
His transition into celebrity did nothing to quiet the speculation. After all, in the criminal world, there’s no more shameful label than being a “rat.” Whether or not Courtney had ever lived up to the label, it was a stain that would follow him around—until the end, when his life was tragically cut short.
The Castle as Fortress
For all its ostentation, Camelot Castle also served as a fortress. Courtney was a man who lived with a certain paranoia, born of his criminal past and the threats it had generated. The very structure of the house—complete with high gates, thick stone walls, and reinforced security—gave the sense that Camelot was more than just a lavish home; it was a place where Dave could retreat from the dangers of the world. A self-made king, surrounded by his armour, his swords, and his memories.
In interviews, he would talk about how Camelot Castle was his “sanctuary,” a place where he could escape the pressures of fame, or the dangers of his former life. “The world outside can be a jungle,” he would say. “But in here, I control everything. It’s my kingdom.” The contradictions of the man were never more evident than in his relationship with Camelot. A house that reflected his ambition, but also his fear. A home built not just on the desire for luxury, but on the need for protection—both from enemies and from himself.
The End of the Story: A Tragic Legacy
On November 23, 2023, Dave Courtney was found dead at Camelot Castle. The cause of death was confirmed as suicide. It was a tragic and unexpected end for a man who had, for so long, walked the line between myth and reality. In the months leading up to his passing, Courtney had publicly revealed that he had been diagnosed with cancer, which he described as a significant personal challenge. His death was officially confirmed as being linked to complications from the disease, with his family and close associates stating that he had taken his own life. The cancer he had been fighting was believed to have been a major factor in his decision, as he had reportedly been suffering from extreme pain and emotional distress as a result of his declining health.
Camelot Castle, his grand creation, now stands not only as a reflection of Dave Courtney’s ambition but as a reminder of the fragility of myth. In the end, Camelot—like its namesake—was both a place of grandeur and a place of tragedy. And Dave Courtney, a man who once claimed to live by the code of kings and knights, will forever be remembered as a figure whose own story was as murky and convoluted as the life of the man who built it.
As Courtney himself once said: “The world’s full of people who want to put you down. But it’s your own word that matters. And I’ll stand by mine, for better or worse.” His death, and the story of Camelot Castle, is a fitting epitaph to that word—one that remains, even in death, full of contradictions.
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