Andy Lee Says the Stunt Economy Isn’t the Problem. The Banks and Platforms Are.

Andy Lee, a Dublin-based straight creator, who performs gay-for-pay content under the handle @do_it_like_andy, started OnlyFans during lockdown after tearing his bicep and losing the plumbing and construction work that had been his entire career. “I was in such a low place,” he explained. “I had no job… I didn’t really have any other choice.” A friend suggested he try the platform, offering to run the page while Lee just made the content. “I fell in love with it,” he said. “The ball just kept rolling and rolling, and here we are today.”

What actually pulled him out of that low place, by his own account, wasn’t the money. It was his audience, overwhelmingly gay men who showed up for him daily during the darkest stretch of the pandemic. “I never really believed in depression or anything like that,” he said. “But when lockdown happened and I lost my job, I sat there and I was in a hole… Then I had these people on the internet, strangers, primarily gay men, lifting me up every single day.” That debt of gratitude shapes how Lee talks about the industry now, including his pointed criticism of fellow creator Jake Andrich, known as Jakipz, who’s faced backlash over alleged anti-LGBTQ+ comments he denies making. “Those performers are poisonous for the industry,” Lee said. “They know exactly what they’re doing, and they’re using and taking advantage of people, and it’s not fair.”

But Lee’s sharpest observation isn’t about individual bad actors. It’s about the structural pressure that makes escalating stunt content feel like the rational business move rather than a moral failing. Asked about high-profile stunts from creators like Bonnie Blue, Lily Phillips, or Drake Von’s viral “1000 bottoms” challenge, Lee didn’t just condemn them. He explained them. “Sex workers are being attacked every single day by social media, by banks,” he said. “We don’t do anything illegal, but banks shut us down, social media shuts us down. Same with OnlyFans, you can get banned on these websites so easy by AI bots or whatever.” His ultimate opinion on these stunts? He believes that creators understand that rage-bait gets shared, and shares convert into new subscribers, so when every other channel for organic growth is unreliable or actively hostile, escalation becomes one of the few marketing levers still guaranteed to work. “I understand why these guys are doing these crazy stunts to market themselves,” he said, “but these people do go too far.”

That’s what makes Lee’s takes stand out compared to the usual “stunts are bad for the industry” take. Creators operating carefully, ethically, within every platform’s stated rules, are still routinely deplatformed by automated moderation systems, still lose banking access purely because of their industry, still get lumped into the same reputational bucket as the creators making headlines for the most extreme content. “You have these creators in the industry who are ‘ethical’… and they get painted with the same brush,” Lee said. In other words, the platforms and financial institutions that claim to police this industry aren’t actually distinguishing between careful, boundary-respecting creators and viral shock stunts. They’re applying the same blunt suspicion to everyone, which removes any incentive to stay in the “careful” category in the first place.

Lee’s now trying to model a different path through his academy, teaching new creators that the “get rich quick” fantasy of six-pack abs, feet pics, and instant success doesn’t reflect reality. His actual advice is almost boring: build genuine rapport, let your personality carry the content, understand that most people in this industry don’t get rich, and prepare for the fact that friends, family, and future employers will eventually see what you’ve made. “You could save the Pope and people will still find something to talk about,” he said, a fairly accurate summary of what awaits any adult creator regardless of how carefully they build their brand.

Lee sees his own future moving behind the camera eventually, into documentary work aimed at reshaping how the public understands sex work and the people who turn to it. For now, though, he remains in front of the camera, being, by his own description, “the stunt d***” while trying to demonstrate that sustainable, respectful content creation is possible, even while the industry’s own infrastructure keeps making the louder, riskier alternative look like the only reliable way to survive.