Britain’s first euthanasia influencer says he’s about to end his life and charges followers £130 to have a ‘Last Supper’. Now CLARA GASPAR reveals troubling ‘grift’ questions… and why all may not be as it seems…

‘Hi, I’m Joseph. I’m bipolar. And I moved to the Netherlands to legally end my life.’ It was with these extraordinary words that British-Ghanaian artist Joseph Awuah-Darko tearfully began a video posted to his Instagram page on December 6 last year.

The clip went viral almost instantly. Awuah-Darko – a rising star of the contemporary art world and an outspoken mental-health advocate – had already spent years cultivating a loyal following online, where he shared candid accounts of living with what he described as ‘treatment-resistant bipolar disorder’.

But this particular post struck a nerve. Thousands of viewers, many grappling with their own mental-health battles, flooded the 28-year-old with messages of support.

Within 48 hours, Awuah-Darko – who also goes by the name Okuntakinte, a nod to Kunta Kinte, the main character in Alex Hailey’s best-selling slavery novel Roots – was back on Instagram with an announcement. He would spend the remainder of his life travelling through Europe, embarking on a series of intimate ‘farewell dinners’ with strangers. He called it The Last Supper Project.

‘I feel connecting this way around food as a great unifying vessel could be beautiful,’ he wrote.

The number of Awuah-Darko’s followers doubled almost overnight, passing half a million. Among them were celebrities including Hollywood actor Channing Tatum, British music stars Paloma Faith and Stormzy and singers Queen Latifah and SZA.

Within weeks, Awuah-Darko, who lives in the Netherlands, where its liberal assisted-dying laws have become highly controversial in recent years, was one of the most talked-about names on social media. His raw honesty had captured the mental-health zeitgeist and tapped into the hugely topical debate on assisted dying.

He travelled from Amsterdam to Paris, Milan, Brussels and Berlin, breaking bread with strangers in their homes, while basking in a whirlwind of global attention.

In April, his Instagram page was viewed 52million times. Interviews followed with The Times, the BBC and USA Today, and he appeared in dozens of international outlets.

Many hailed the influencer as a radical new voice in the conversation about suicide and mental illness. Others – including me – were more sceptical, however.

The meals, it emerged, weren’t always cheap. Followers who hosted him were often expected to foot the bill – not just for food, but often for flights, trains and any ‘additional expenses’.

As an alternative dining option, followers were soon encouraged to sign up to his supper club, ‘F.U.I.’ – which stands for ‘F***ed-Up Individuals’ – at which he and his best friend, a fashion designer named Illi, co-host dinners for up to eight guests at a ticket price of £130.

There was even a ‘virtual supper’ option for £18, marketed as intimate, one-hour, emotional exchanges online.

Awuah-Darko’s Instagram feed is filled with reflections on each dinner hosted by his followers – he has completed 134 to date – as well as intimate and lengthy updates about his mental torment, sexual experiences and his thoughts on suicide.

Following his social media success, he began charging for subscriptions to his blog on Substack – a media and culture app – charging £3.70 a month for his musings on life, with titles such as Reasons I Would Like To Have A Dutch Boyfriend [At Least Once] Before I Die, and I Made A £200 Order At McDonald’s And Ate It All Alone.

He told the Mail he made ‘about $2,000 [£1,500] per month or less’ from this. So far, so bizarre. But, I can reveal that some people are starting to question whether The Last Supper Project is nothing more than a ploy to make money from his sympathetic followers.

They ask whether the saga bears similarities to the story told in the hit Netflix series Apple Cider Vinegar about Belle Gibson, an Australian blogger who in 2009 claimed she had been diagnosed with a ‘malignant brain cancer’ and been given ‘six weeks, four months tops’ to live.

Gibson, then 20, said she had withdrawn from chemotherapy on a quest to ‘heal naturally’, then launched a best-selling wellness and nutrition app, followed by a cookbook, crediting her diet with curing her – and amassing a fortune. However, it turned out that her cancer story was a lie and she had ruthlessly milked the sympathy of hundreds of thousands of people who had believed her.

It’s important to stress that Awuah-Darko may well be suffering from severe mental-health difficulties – and he might well intend to end his life as he claims.

He strongly refutes any comparisons with Belle Gibson, insisting: ‘I have never lied about my diagnosis when it comes to my neurodivergence. My only source of income is my Substack newsletter and that earns below gross minimum wage in the Netherlands. My Instagram is just a public diary about my lived experience.’

But as we shall see, he is no stranger to controversy.

Born in west London and raised in Ghana, Awuah-Darko is the youngest son of one of the African nation’s wealthiest families.

The family patriarch, Nana Awuah-Darko Ampem, his late grandfather, founded an insurance company in 1975 in Accra – of which Joseph’s father is now a director – and the Awuah–Darkos are worth around £330million.

Awuah-Darko attended Ghana International School and business administration and liberal arts at Ashesi University in Accra, and claims to have studied entrepreneurship at Oxford University. In 2018, he posted a picture on social media of himself alongside his ‘proud’ parents outside the London School of Economics after they watched him address an Africa-related summit.

Last year, he hosted a solo exhibition, How’s Your Day Going?, highlighting his struggles with bipolar disorder, at a trendy gallery in Shoreditch, east London.

Despite his privileged background, Awuah-Darko claims that ‘he does not have access’ to financial support from his family and that he is ‘a homeless immigrant’. Upon his arrival last year in the Netherlands he claims he slept in ‘public toilets’ and ‘parking lots’, until his friend Illi took him in.

Doubtless, Awuah-Darko faced hardship as a gay man in Ghana – but, as followers pointed out, his Instagram feed features pictures of him sporting designer outfits and luxury handbags, which seems at odds with his claims of destitution. Users who questioned him about it have been blocked.

Then there is his former life as a curator and art dealer in Ghana, where he stands accused of leaving several artists out of pocket by hundreds of thousands of pounds.

Early last year, several Ghanaian artists who worked with Awuah-Darko accused him of failing to pay them. Awuah-Darko sold their works for a 40 per cent commission, but the artists claim he withheld much of their money.

‘I have been waiting for my money for two years,’ said artist Foster Sakyiamah. ‘Joseph kept saying there was a problem with the bank and that he would pay soon – but they were all lies.’

Last June, Sakyiamah issued a court claim against Awuah-Darko, who sold more than 70 of his works. ‘My client is still owed $266,527 [£195,000] by Joseph,’ said his lawyer, Joachim Bazaeng. ‘We are negotiating a settlement, but if nothing comes of that we will pursue the lawsuit.’

Awuah-Darko has filed a defence and vehemently denies Sakyiamah’s claims.

Ghanaian Ishmael Armarh, says he is owed more than £45,000 by Awuah-Darko. ‘It is very difficult to survive as an artist in Africa,’ he told the Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant. ‘Joseph has sold several of my works without paying me.’

He says Awuah-Darko made excuses when asked for the money, telling the artist: ‘Last night I considered suicide.’

On another occasion Awuah-Darko sent a photo of an injured man, with the words: ‘My roommate had a bike accident so I’m in the hospital with him right now.’

‘He has new excuses every time,’ said Armarh. ‘Earlier, he came up with the story that his bank account was blocked.’

Awuah-Darko told the Mail: ‘I cannot speak to the validity of these messages, but I am deeply saddened that this artist has chosen to target me through the press in this way.’ 

This episode coincided with another development. In May last year, Awuah-Darko accused world-renowned US artist Kehinde Wiley – who painted Barack Obama’s portrait – of sexual assault. Awuah-Darko claimed Wiley assaulted him twice at a dinner on June 9, 2021.

In the post, he claimed he was ‘inappropriately groped’ by Wiley, in front of another guest, and that the action was ‘unwelcome and unprovoked’. He then described a second incident that day as ‘much more severe and violent’.

Wiley, who has been accused of sexual assault by other men and women, hit back. He said: ‘I met my accuser in June 2021 at a dinner hosted at his loft space in Ghana. We were flirting all night. Around 4am, he came to my hotel room. We had a one-time encounter. Everything was consensual. The next day, he left happily, as witnessed by my assistant.’

Awuah-Darko began fundraising on social media for ‘current and projected legal fees’ for a case he feared would be brought against him by Wiley (this never happened) with a target of £146,000. He asked followers to donate, promising an ‘origami horse and a signed Post-It’ to all donors.

He has not yet filed a legal complaint against Wiley and tells the Mail that he raised less than £1,500 in total, which he spent on ‘miscellaneous costs related to food and shelter’.

Asked why he did not file a police report about the incident, Awuah-Darko has said: ‘In Ghana, homosexuality is forbidden. It is not legally possible to rape a man there. I did not have grounds to take my rapist to court.’

So, what is the truth about Awuah-Darko – and the status of his euthanasia claims?

Despite insisting he lives in the Netherlands so he can be euthanised, in an interview with The Times in February, he admitted he had not applied to start the process. He admitted it ‘could take up to four years’ and involves a full psychological review and evaluation of all treatment options.

But matters could go on even longer than that. Non-residents are generally not eligible for euthanasia in the Netherlands, as it requires a long-standing relationship with a Dutch physician and thorough assessments that are not feasible for short-term visitors. Awuah-Darko says he is claiming asylum in the Netherlands – which can take many months – to gain eligibility.

In addition, the rules for euthanasia on mental-health grounds are strict. A patient must be shown to have exhausted treatment options and to have been declared ‘beyond treatment’ by a psychiatrist.

Awuah-Darko admitted when interviewed by Dutch journalists that, despite telling Instagram followers that he has ‘treatment-resistant bipolar’, he has never received a ‘beyond-treatment’ diagnosis.

He has also said that he does not take medication for his mental-health conditions, adding: ‘About three years ago in Ghana, I was last seen by a psychiatrist, and he prescribed lithium. That did not have the desired effect.’

Many of his once-supportive followers are now less sympathetic.

This week, the Mail spoke to one Amsterdam woman who hosted him for a supper. Charlotte – not her real name – who has suffered from borderline personality disorder and ADHD, felt they could have meaningful conversations about mental health.

She and her partner contacted him, and he replied quickly to arrange a date that week. On the day, he claimed to have been injured and couldn’t walk, and asked Charlotte to pay for taxis to and from her home – costing £50 in total. However, there was no sign of injury when he arrived, which Charlotte felt was a ‘red flag’. ‘He was at our house for four to five hours,’ she said, adding that most of the time he was on the phone. ‘We spoke for about 20 minutes. He only talked about himself and showed no interest in us – and left much of the food we had cooked for him.’ In an Instagram post, Awuah-Darko claimed they had a ‘long and full discussion about death’, whereas Charlotte said they only spent about five minutes on it. ‘I do believe he was struggling with mental-health problems. But I was left with the impression that things weren’t as they seemed on Instagram,’ Charlotte said. ‘He reminded me of Belle Gibson.’

Many of Awuah-Darko’s followers have also queried what he does with the money from his Substack and supper clubs.

Awuah-Darko insists he hasn’t made a profit on the estimated £10,000 he has earned from hosting 15 supper clubs. He also suggested on social media that some proceeds would be donated to Bipolar UK.

The charity said it contacted him to arrange a meeting following his art exhibition in Shoreditch last year. But he failed to show up and ignored follow-up messages.

It added: ‘Unfortunately, The Last Supper Project is no longer representative of the charity’s values and has, in fact, been very triggering for the bipolar community.’

The charity disagrees with Awuah-Darko’s suggestion that euthanasia should be a solution for those suffering from severe mental-health disorders. It said: ‘His beliefs around euthanasia are not shared by Bipolar UK or our clinical advisory panel.’

The group added that it had written to Awuah-Darko, explaining that it would not accept any donations from the project.

How much money Awuah-Darko has raised through The Last Supper Project and his accompanying social media postings in total remains unclear.

What is certain, however, is that his story – once embraced as a radical act of openness and vulnerability – is now being questioned by the very people he claims he is helping.