Television success is often about novelty, the great Terry Wogan once said, contrasting it with the familiarity and repetition that underpin the most cherished radio.
When I heard the late broadcaster say this, in an interview in 2012, it stayed with me. Television was, at the time, still a perennial zeitgeist chaser, with executives constantly seeking to “refresh” their line-ups, pension off presenters and let off as many fireworks as possible.
But since an announcement from the BBC about the future of The Graham Norton Show popped up this week, I’ve been wondering if that first part of Wogan’s wisdom is still true, and whether anyone should want it to be. Is it television that has changed or is it me?
There are exceptions – The Traitors is the obvious example – but most of the properly valuable entertainment properties on linear television channels in 2025 are shows that, were they to find human form, would be old enough to vote.
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When I saw that BBC update about a new three-year contract for Norton’s show, starting in 2026, I felt momentary panic, first about the already averted possibility that this deal might not have been sealed, then about what might happen in 2029.
[ Graham Norton agrees three-series deal with BBC for flagship chat showOpens in new window ]
If you’re getting from this that I love The Graham Norton Show, you would be correct. I love everything about it: Norton’s deadpan jokes at the start, the choreography of the arrivals on to the sofa, the palate-cleansing recap of previous encounters, the efficiency with which the promotion of wares begins, his guests’ ease in his company and the tension-diffusing impression that everyone understands the assignment.
I’m also fond of the starry-eyed couch cameos from musical guests, the red-chair stories from members of the public, the even better apologies about there being “no time for the red chair” and the bit where he announces who’s on next week, the star-wattage of the names increasing as he goes along.
Some people want chatshows to be televised therapy sessions, hate laughter and/or think pre-recording and editing programmes is somehow cheating. I’m not one of them. I think Norton’s capacity to warmly get the best out of guarded A-listers without jettisoning his innate drollness is a special skill that isn’t talked about enough.
But my attachment to The Graham Norton Show is not just about the 50 minutes of chatshow alchemy delivered with such aplomb by So Television, the ITV Studios-backed production company he founded with Graham Stuart, his executive producer.
It’s also about not wanting the Norton era to end, because that would mark the closing of a brilliant chapter of television history and because the next thing that comes along – if anything comparable ever does – will inevitably be useless and I will be 100 per cent against it in advance.
In recent years it has felt like a possibility that Norton might opt to walk away. That’s because since 2021 he has chosen to cut back on the number of episodes he makes each year – the show’s April-June editions are no more – and made other adjustments to his workload.
So the statement assuring that The Graham Norton Show is with us for at least another three years, that both the BBC and the presenter are “thrilled” and that, in Stuart’s words, Norton and So Television “have never felt like stopping” is a relief.
Time being a funny thing that only gets funnier the more of it you experience, the show seems like both a TV upstart and an enduring fixture.
Technically, if it was a person it would only just be old enough to vote. The Graham Norton Show started on the BBC in 2007, although at first it bounced around the schedules, initially on BBC Two. The show only began its Friday-night reign on BBC One in 2010, after the incumbent slot holder, Jonathan Ross, left the BBC.
But what Stuart dubbed “the Norton talkshow journey” really dates back to 1998, when So Graham Norton began on Channel 4. It was pure novelty then, propelled by hyper audience-participation segments, occasionally risqué wheezes and untapped reserves of gay icons for guests. A gay Irish man was triumphing in his domain on screen, and this felt new.
That show was born in the internet age, but our host became part of television tradition, eventually sidling into the mainstream and reshaping it in his image.
His BBC show doesn’t strive for controlled chaos like its Channel 4 predecessor. It offers a gimmick-free, tried-and-tested package that has proven resilient to changes in celebrity culture. That’s its superpower.
It’s also a lesson for television powers that be more generally. Leave the experimentation to YouTube. Let the TikTokers get on with their thing – on TikTok.
Sit back, embrace maturity and just be glad for the consistency of Norton presiding over his show with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and the confidence of someone who knows what he’s doing.
