Ivo Graham on his new book, stand-up show and campaigning projects

Ivo Graham publishes his memoir, Yardsticks For Failure, later this month, as well as bringing his acclaimed theatre show Carousel to the Soho Theatre. Statistically one of Taskmaster's worst-ever contestants, he also returns to the Fringe this year with his stand-up show, Orange Crush and the work-in-progress theatre piece, Graham Back In The Green, while again hosting Comedians' DJ Battles. Jay Richardson spoke to him about all of that, with the comedian wearing a very vivid outfit…

Morning Ivo. Wow, that's orange.

[Gesticulating] I've just taken delivery of this chair, in which I'm pushing Rosie Jones around the Leeds Marathon. It's from one of the finest mobility sport companies and they've gone all out to make it as orange as possible. Apologies, but I'll be enjoying the novelty of wheeling myself back and forth in this interview.

The Rosie Jones Foundation has its own colour scheme, which I respect. But I'm running for the MS Society and will be in their full orange. Longer term, I'm also promoting my Edinburgh Fringe show, Orange Crush, and plan to wear as much orange as possible throughout.

You mention the marathon in the book. But because it's coming out late, I wasn't sure if the race had happened already [it’s actually this Sunday]

The book's contents are invariably liable to be questioned, because, in a deliciously on-brand manoeuvre, publication was delayed. Did you notice the factual errors?

The odd typo.

We tried to be vigorous. The book has dominated the last year and a half of my life. I've obsessed and put so much time into it, going over some chapters so many times. But Josh Widdicombe warned me that recording the audiobook, saying it out loud, is when you notice all the mistakes. 

I really enjoyed writing about the Edinburgh Fringe because it was a nostalgic experience. But I quite needlessly and self-importantly appointed myself as a Fringe historian.

The day after the audiobook's submission, when I'd been gently but also quite firmly told that I couldn't make any more changes, I went to Sutton United versus Southend with Tim Key and Tim Vine, a great privilege. 

I've enjoyed sending bits to people referenced in the book, ostensibly for fact-checking. But, hopefully, also to have them say 'this is nice'. I printed off the three or four pages mentioning Tim Key on my now beloved orange paper, showing him on the train. And the first paragraph of that chapter says '2009 Edinburgh Comedy Award winner: Tim Key. Edinburgh Comedy Award sponsor: Fosters'. He just winced and went 'nope'. 

Because there was no sponsor in 2009! The Fosters era began in 2010! It's a source of great personal embarrassment and I'm currently writing an email to [awards organiser] Nica Burns.

I doubt Fosters will complain …

No, and neither will lastminute.com, who I said sponsored the 2018 award, even though that, too, was sponsorless. Let's be vulgar, I really want people to buy and enjoy the book. Immediately. But the second edition will be revised.

It sounds challenging for the editors. How did you find writing it?

Well, I think my relationship with my editors is still intact. But we will find out when the time comes to discuss whether a second book should exist. 

Despite these errata, it's the thing that I've taken most pride in. It's not just an autobiography, it's the story of two quite busy and messy years, the biggest and most emotional of my life. It's about my best work, the work I have the most complicated feelings about and the people I care for and miss the most. I'm so happy that we've got my daughter's drawings in it. Because even though that's mushy, it means a lot. 

Taskmaster was the greatest professional opportunity of my career and I loved it, even though I came last. Hopefully, I've done justice to how fun and chaotic that was in the arguably over-long opening chapter. Being best man for my best friend, Alex Kealy, was so important. And I've written about some of my favourite music, really trying to make everything as engaging as possible.

Has it been cathartic?

I've had to confront the awkward reality that, in the midst of quite a lot of chaos, the days when I've often been happiest are those when I've locked myself away and done nothing but write for six or seven hours. Doing nothing else, feeling the flow that comes when you devote yourself to one thing has been so satisfying. 

And while there are a few errors, which I'll have to get past at some point, it is a reflection of hours of dedication. 

Was it hard finding the right tone? Because as you say, it's both a shameless Taskmaster cash-in and a tribute to your family's support when you were going through a tough personal time.

There were points when it was tricky. I felt this with my theatre show, Carousel, too, which overlaps with the book. Even as you become tentatively proud during its evolution, you're still dreading the point where an influential friend, critic or anyone really, says it's a load of self-indulgent nonsense.

Similarly, the delicate things in the book, particularly about my friend Tom, to whom the book is dedicated, those are things I'm pleased with. 

As a community of friends, we've done so much to celebrate and commemorate our friend who left us with so much [Tom died in 2022]. A lot of the book is about the film nights and the bike rides, the stuff done in his memory. But I'm the only one putting it into the public arena. 

I've talked the process through with his wife and parents a lot, checking in at every point, saying 'is it OK if I talk about this Springsteen gig on this podcast?'; 'is it OK if I write this about Philip Seymour Hoffman and is it OK if actually ends up being the main part of the book?' 

I felt very encouraged by them. I like that the books ends with me talking about my friend on Mastermind. Having that alongside frivolous things like Taskmaster, the novels of Steve Bruce or embarrassing myself in a bucket hat at the EFL Awards, is a good balance I hope.

And yes, the book was delayed. But with the extra time my friend went from being one bit of the book to its main thread. And it's not a completely disingenuous time capsule because Tom died two weeks before the Taskmaster studio filming. 

It's so unimportant in the grander scheme of things. But that was the biggest professional appointment of my career. We'd filmed all the tasks, I was thinking about it all summer, building up to that week at the studios. Then suddenly, it didn't matter, I was wondering if the dates would have to be rearranged for the memorial. My head was in two completely different places. And I guess the book is about me having my head, constantly, in a minimum of two, and often more, different places.

Will you keep compartmentalising into comedy, theatre shows, books, a podcast. Or do you think the experience of writing Carousel and this book will now feed into the stand-up?

I'd like it to feed directly into the stand-up. I'd like to learn lessons from Carousel and the book, the two things I've put by far the most effort into. Carousel's script was something I had to really learn and hone, make sure I didn't deviate from. I really loved that if I was having a difficult day in Edinburgh and didn't feel mentally agile enough to do audience interaction, as I often subjected myself to in other shows, I didn't have to. 

Similarly for the book. Even though I've still got too much on and in some ways am not learning my lessons, I'm hoping that I shall bring the same preparation to my main Edinburgh show this year. 

How exactly?

I'm thinking about it a lot. I've read and enjoyed lots of books about stand-up. But my favourite is Frank Skinner's where he talks about going to Edinburgh in 2007, getting that show ready. I'd recommend it to anyone. 

Obviously though, as a comedian, when you know the beats of work-in-progress season, Edinburgh and then tour, it's such a feast. I hope my book is of similar interest to people who love comedy and preparation of shows with regards to my 2023 and 2024 Edinburghs. Because amid my pride in Carousel and some of the larks we had with Comedians' DJ Battles, I regret that both my stand-up shows in those years, particularly 2023, were too chaotic and not up to standard.

So I'm going back, despite saying I wouldn't, in the belief that I can right that wrong a little and do a tighter hour.

One of 2023's delusions was that because I had serious stuff going on in my personal life, and I was trying to write a theatre show which dealt with some of that, I thought my stand-up show should be as silly, interactive and fun as possible. And on good days it really was. It was testament to how much fun I can have in that live, chaos way. 

But doing it just after Taskmaster, when quite a lot of people would have been coming for the first time, it was probably my weakest show. And doing something frivolous didn't relieve the stress of what was happening elsewhere. It wasn't good enough and got quite mixed reviews.

Writing now about the things that matter most to me, I want the shows to be the thing, not just frivolous for the sake of being fun. I want to talk about my family, my hometown and various other concerns in my life in a funny but passionate, engaging way.

You talk about Taskmaster being a public exposure of neurodiversity. How far have you explored that personally?

A lot of comedians talk about this more articulately and more knowledgeably than I have. But I'm very aware that Taskmaster is like an MRI machine. Friends and family saw me floundering and it echoed their experience of me in life. And obviously, people on the internet have an opinion, often accurately and compassionately. It is something I'm investigating. But I'm not far down the line. I'm still in chaos mode. And it's hard. 

There's lots about my life and my head that I would like to resolve. My family would love me to feel calmer. But I've enjoyed so many things in my life and my career as a result of being attracted to chaos. It's brought so much stress and regret but adventure, pride and friendship too. So I will address it but I don't want to overhaul things completely.

What can you reveal about your new stand-up show Orange Crush? 

The MS Society's official colour is orange. And it's the colour of a protest movement I'm involved in against the negligent ownership of Swindon Town Football Club. No one in my family cares as much about them as I do. Still, it's our home. And my mum's multiple sclerosis remains the biggest thing in our lives, around which we're constantly adapting. My mum has also been working for a fantastic refugee charity, The Harbour Project, that's given her a much greater sense of connection to Swindon. We're doing a big fundraising gig for them in September.

Now, conversations about disability and charity can sometimes be delicate. And getting involved with the Swindon Town protest movement, I've felt like I've bitten off more than I can chew a couple of times. The Orange Heads, as we've been referred to, are not universally popular. This hat I'm wearing is a divisive symbol.

The football club may be of dubious interest to audiences. But I'm hoping that the story of trying to get more involved in one's hometown won't be. Particularly due to my guilty posture as a Swindon Town fan who grew up away in boarding schools, without the authentic connection of some. That's occasionally come up. But these are rich themes. And although it sounds an incredibly virtuous and wacky thing to say, it's important to represent your values and those you care about. Using your platform, which is something I feel increasingly strongly about.

I might end up with egg on my face in a few months time, these are niche topics for the post-Taskmaster brand. But showing why they're important is an exciting challenge. I've also enjoyed thinking about the orange theme, buying as many orange clothes as possible, thinking about the gonzo PR we're going to do in Edinburgh with everything orange. I've never been very good with self-promotion or personal branding and having a singular colour for an Edinburgh show is a great delight for me.

I disagree about your branding. You've shifted your posh persona towards this chaos agency, that's kind of your thing now isn't it?

I'm sorry, because broadly, one shouldn't read reviews and it can be depressing when they aren't great. But you wrote: 'Graham has been slowly but surely modifying his brand over the last few years, from gauche Old Etonian to chaotic force of nature, hurling himself pell-mell and last minute into any number of projects, side hustles and relationships.' And I'm afraid to say, I read that and thought I actually can't argue with a single word.

Well, I apologise, that's a bit …

No, not at all. That is what's happening, I'm trying to adapt some of the pell-mellness and make some of the last-minute more penultimate minute. It would bring a lot of relief to a lot of people, even if I'm loath to be quoted as saying anything as self-important or self-obsessed. One of the lines in Carousel though, basically almost the first and last line is: ‘No one lives like you do'.

It was Matt Forde who said that wasn't it?

Fordey is one of the most positive people I've ever met, navigating far tougher things than I have in the last couple of years. We've been sort of Edinburgh neighbours twice now. I've come out of my show and he's been getting ready in the same room. And I can't recommend being on before Fordey at the Fringe enough. However your show has gone, you will meet the nicest, most complimentary man immediately afterwards.

But yeah, that's the origin story of Carousel in 2023. I was running to get a train and he said it. A warning, a caution. But in a world where I'm trying to do fun, engaging things that are hopefully communal and memorable, it's been great to attempt so many in the last few years, even if it's been with mixed success. And there are more to come. I hope the book reflects that and I can do justice to that notion in Edinburgh this year as well.

Why are you so committed to Edinburgh? As your agent says, after performing in the Pleasance Grand you've effectively 'completed' it?

I love the Fringe. This is not a remotely new insight to say that it's exhausting, demoralising and completely addictive all at the same time. And I'm quite lucky that mine has been less demoralising than it has been for some. I've had mixed shows and reviews. Broadly though, I've had good Edinburghs and people keep coming back, which I'm grateful for. 

Still, I was pretty burnt out at the end of last year. And I'd done three on the bounce after Covid. Playing the Grand was an incredible privilege, having done most of the rooms in the Pleasance en route. It was a neat end point for a phase. 

So I had told everyone, through some pretty funny but also quite unambiguous memes I sent to [my agent] Off The Kerb that I wasn't going to do Edinburgh. Mel Gibson as Braveheart was shouting ‘freedom’ back in December.

But in January, I U-turned. I love it too much. I'd miss living with Alfie [Brown] in the same flat we've been in for years, seeing other people's shows, staying in the conversation of what's happening. 

I have loyalty to the Fringe, even though the Fringe is not rewarding acts or audiences and is sleepwalking into irrelevance. It's not worth it for so many. But it's been so good to me and with everything else going on in my life, I need the comfort and target of it.

I've been very rude about acts only doing a fortnight, you know, not committing to the full marathon, the full endurance test. Particularly now that you can get award-nominated for short runs. But, while it's undeniable that it's very convenient for me, I'm going to get as much out of my fortnight as I possibly can.

Where does this instinct to commit, either to the bit or a Fringe run, come from?

Restlessness is the most honest and damning answer. An inability to sit still and a need to set an outlandish challenge. I'm the kid yelling 'time me!' Even as an adult I'll run to the shop for the adrenaline. 

And it's not a convenient, retrospective narrative to say that Tom, who died tragically in a freak accident two and a half years ago, was a journalist and historian, he loved moments and memories. His friends and family cherish that about him. It has hardened my belief that, within reason, showing respect and delicacy where possible, doing the most memorable thing is often the most attractive option.

On stage too?

I've felt this often about stand-up. Obviously, I've been absolutely derailed by hecklers in the past. Carousel wasn't often interrupted. But when it was, I brushed it off impatiently, because I had a script, it was tightly timed and I needed to stick to it.

Yet my experience of doing stand-up for 15 years has been that I'm always very excited to be thrown off my material and given something in the room. To be blunt, I often feel like I'm doing seven out of ten material. But on a good day, I'm an eight or nine out of ten improvisor. 

Having my back against the wall and responding live actually results in me doing something that's probably more intriguing and impressive than stand-up, which often is new material that I haven't honed enough yet or old material I'm already bored of.

Now, of course, everyone's chasing the crowd work clip online, something we've all got to do. But even before every club had a camera in it, my best gigs were often the ones where I was heckled. Because suddenly, I was alive and in the room. 

I'm a runner, I love literally running to a shop during the interval of a gig because I know I'll surprise them with how quickly I can get there and back, then how I can sum it up and tie it all together. I'd like to think that the people who saw those gigs, when I was running off, particularly the Potters Bar Cereal Quest, will find they live long in the memory.

What can you tell me about the new work-in-progress, theatre show you're taking to Edinburgh?

I can't tell you much because I have no idea what it is yet. I don't even feel guilty about saying that. The first iteration of Carousel came together mid-Fringe on a train. But I know that that kind of 48-hour turnaround is not generally feasible. 

I would like the next theatre show to not be Carousel (The Leftovers), though I daresay there will be some overlap. Working with music has been one of the most exhilarating experiences of my career and I'd probably like to explore the same themes of family, memory and death. But I'd also like to try to make more of an actual play with an actual cast. I'd like to work more with my director, Matt Hassall, making something bigger.

This Edinburgh though, it's going to be just me in the Pleasance Green again, sharing, hopefully very excitingly real and relatable things in long, elegant sentences, which I may or may not have learned. 

But whereas in 2023, and, to a lesser extent, 2024, I was trying to do a fun show in my stand-up alongside my serious theatre show, I would like my main show this year, my stand-up show Orange Crush, to be very funny and serious. 

I understand why I've needed to divide the two. Ultimately, it's opened my career and my head up in ways I'm so grateful for. And I enjoy and respect pure, frivolous stand-up so much, artists that are just brilliantly funny. But this is where I'm at, division of mental labour-wise this Fringe. And the good thing about the theatre show being work-in-progress is that that's what it will be. You will see the fruits of it next year.

Taskmaster has created some enduring odd couples, such as Lucy Beaumont and Sam Campbell, who have gone on to make a podcast together. You've talked about hoping to take hallucinogens with Frankie Boyle at some point. Has this been pitched to television?

Not yet. It's something we text about occasionally and I'm very intent on having trips with Frankie in the future, on or off-screen. I was so lucky to get to do Taskmaster with him.

I enjoyed the book, even if it gave me acute anxiety at various points. What's it like waiting for it to come out when you won't receive that normal, immediate response you’re used to as a stand-up,?

That was another thing that Josh said, don't go mad about the publication date. There's a sort of queasy feeling as it comes out. But obviously, at least at first, and possibly forever, nothing happens. 

I completely understand the anxiety, the anxiety is a given. A part of me relishes that and enjoyed making the book as full as possible and, at points, as exhausting as possible. But I hope that fans of LCD Soundsystem and Glastonbury enjoy the music writing, that my mum and the MS Society are proud of how they've been represented. The main dedication is to my friend and his family. But it's also a comedian's book, full of references to comedy in Edinburgh and the comedy industry. I want it to be enjoyed by my peers and my community. 

Writing a book like this means taking a lot of time to think about yourself, which is so self-involved. But it's also a mirror that you stare into. And really, you should be staring into the mirror through therapy. But I'm so excited and nervous about this because it is the purest me in existence.

• Yardsticks For Failure is published on May 22 and is available from Amazon priced £20.24 – or from uk.bookshop.org, below, which supports independent bookstores; Carousel is at the Soho Theatre, London, from May 28 to June 7; Orange Crush  and Graham Back In The Green are at the Pleasance for the second half of the Edinburgh Fringe.

Published: 9 May 2025