Stand on one leg, please, close your eyes and hum the Marseillaise. Now, without opening your eyes or falling over, your task is to invent a gameshow to sell to 120 countries worldwide. Your time starts . . . now.
Ridiculous as it sounds, that’s what comedian Alex Horne has achieved with Taskmaster, the TV format that began as a half-baked lark for the Edinburgh Fringe 15 years ago and is now set to enjoy its 18th series.
Jack Dee and Rosie Jones are among the latest contestants, in a lineage of more than 100, including Noel Fielding, Shirley Ballas, Katherine Ryan, Bob Mortimer, Adrian Chiles, Mo Farah, Morgana Robinson and Dara O Briain . . . to name just a few of the winners.
In the process, it has turned its creator into one of the richest men in the business. Last year Horne earned £7.5 million from his production company Shakey — an increase of £2 million on the previous year. And that’s before a virtual reality game launches later this year, with a live stage show also promised.
Co-star Greg Davies has also made his fortune on the show, with his Wemboy Productions declaring earnings of £3.7 million earlier this year.
Comedian Alex Home (right) has invented a game show that has been exported to 120 different countries worldwide
Last year Horne earned £7.5 million from his production company Shakey, while co-star Greg Davies declared earnings of £3.7millione earlier this year
The only thing more difficult to comprehend than the rules of the outlandish trials is the appeal of the show itself. Right to left: Johnny Vegas, Greg Davies, Richard Herring, Alex Horne, Katherine Parkinson
Host Alex Horne in a silver dustbin holding the lid and toilet roll
The biggest winners are Channel 4, as Taskmaster can draw primetime audiences of nearly four million — while online, viewers streamed a mind-blowing 2.3 billion minutes of the show last year. It is C4’s most popular programme with the 16-34 age group beloved of advertisers.
‘I anticipate that we’ll ultimately fully take over C4,’ Greg says, ‘and it’ll be the only show on the channel — that all of their daytime and evening programming will be us.’
He may not be being entirely serious but he has a point.
Yet to those who haven’t seen Taskmaster, which first aired on the comedy cable channel Dave in 2015, the only thing more difficult to comprehend than the rules of the outlandish trials it puts contestants through is the appeal of the show itself.
It hardly sounds like compelling viewing. Five contestants are given a catalogue of creatively silly challenges that mostly involve throwing, pushing, breaking, stacking, eating or hiding objects.
All of that is done without a script — the players have no idea what they’ll face and they have to improvise.
Then they’re brought back onto a theatre stage with a live audience to bicker and wheedle with chief judge Davies, as points are awarded. Horne, as the Taskmaster’s assistant and underling, keeps score.
At the end of each series, whoever has the most points wins a gold-plated bust that vaguely resembles Greg’s head.
Given the madcap nature of the show, perhaps it’s no surprise that it took years for Horne to get any broadcaster to commission even a pilot. It began as a stage show at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2010, when Horne sent a challenge to 20 chums on the comedy circuit: ‘Put money into my bank account — most money wins.’
Five contestants are given a catalogue of creatively silly challenges that mostly involve throwing, pushing, breaking, stacking, eating or hiding objects – all done without a script
Julian Clary on Taskmaster. Given its madcap nature, it’s no surprise it took five years to clinch a TV deal.
A contestant receives a task. The challenges are wilfully low budget. Many episodes appear to have been staged for less than the cost of a children’s party
No one deposited more than a fiver . . . except stand-up comic Mark Watson, who gave £200. When Horne revealed the results, the audience howled.
That encapsulates the secret of Taskmaster: it’s hilarious to see how far people will go in order to win.
Despite its Fringe success, it took five years to clinch a TV deal, with the Dave channel taking the plunge in 2015. It was an instant hit, the broadcaster’s biggest. Small wonder C4 muscled in and snatched it away from Dave four years later.
For nine years, this chaotic gameshow has been bringing out the most savage will-to-win in its players — goading them into degrading, embarrassing and humiliating displays for a worthless prize and the satisfaction of beating their peers.
Yet the challenges are wilfully low budget. Many episodes appear to have been staged for less than the cost of a children’s party.
One of the most obscenely funny featured people stuffing their faces with watermelon. The challenge was to eat as much as possible in four minutes. Richard Herring and Daisy May Cooper force-fed each other, ripping the melon into pieces and rubbing it into each other’s mouths.
Another involved catapulting a shoe into a bath. Johnny Vegas managed to fall off a stepladder while attempting that.
I was as bemused as anyone when I reviewed the first series in my daily TV column. The cast included Frank Skinner and Romesh Ranganathan, as well as Josh Widdicombe — an ever-present on panel games — and two contenders who were obviously friends of the presenters: Tim Key and Roisin Conaty. They were tasked with oddities such as filling an egg cup with their own tears. Key watched E.T. on video while peeling onions.
I didn’t fully appreciate the psychological appeal of the format until the second series, and a challenge that involved transporting shopping across a stream in a supermarket trolley, via a distant bridge. Richard Osman (then the boffin on Pointless, and not yet the mega-selling author) picked his trolley up and hurled it into the water in a fit of exasperation.
Any show that can provoke the calmly charming Osman into behaving like a drunken yob in a shopping precinct on a Friday night must have invisible effects on its players — shredding their nerves and straining their composure to breaking point. Anticipating the explosion is part of the enjoyment of watching.
Another aspect of its appeal is that Taskmaster is as much a sitcom as a gameshow. The same faces return week after week, building up a rapport with the audience. It translates well into any language, too: in Sweden it’s called Best In Test; in Belgium it’s The Brightest Bulb; in Norway it’s The King Commands.
It can be very funny hearing Greg calling his 6ft 2in co-host Alex (pictured) ‘Little Alex Horne’
A contestant moves red wellies attached to wires as part of a trial
Taskmaster is as much a sitcom as a gameshow, with the same faces returning week after week
During lockdown, Horne and Davies set 20 tasks for fans to attempt in their own homes. People sent in their own videos, with the funniest being uploaded to the Taskmaster YouTube channel.
A constant in-joke on the show, the sadistic tormenting of Alex Horne, began with a game in the second episode. Contestants were asked to discover the contents of five pies without cutting, biting or otherwise breaking the pastry themselves.
Conaty ordered Horne to eat the pies and report what he discovered. One contained molten hot toothpaste.
Bullying Alex serves a variety of purposes. It can be very funny, especially when Greg (who is 6ft 8in) calls his 6ft 2in co-host ‘Little Alex Horne’. The disparity in their status is emphasised by their chairs — one a giant throne, the other barely more than a stool.
But it also gives the players a target when venting their frustration. As the competition heats up, some contestants fall behind despite trying their hardest. James Acaster revealed a furious temper, throwing weekly tantrums when he felt the judging was unfair or his rivals were cheating.
After team-mate Rhod Gilbert let him down in a co-operative challenge, Acaster seemed in danger of bursting a blood vessel. ‘I can’t believe this s***!’ he snarled at Davies, accusing him of favouritism — because Gilbert is another friend of the presenter.
Gilbert achieved perhaps the most obsessive win of any episode. Challenged to do ‘the creepiest thing possible’, he went round to Greg’s house for drinks one night and, instead of leaving, hid in a bedroom cupboard.
During the small hours, he emerged and filmed Davies as he slept . . . then presented the video as a surprise during the show’s live segment. Greg looked aghast, impressed and horrified in equal measure.
All those telly execs who turned down Taskmaster must feel exactly the same way.
