Joe Lycett: ‘Part of me thinks: we've had so many prime ministers, why not give the bin a go?’

Doting dad Joe Lycett couldn't be prouder of his son, nicknamed "the Punisher". Not just because the 18-month-old toddler is cute and clever but because he recently uttered one of his first words – and it was to call Reform UK’s deputy leader, Richard Tice, a bastard. Out of the mouths of babes and all that. 

“I'm trying to swear less because the Punisher is parroting things in an alarming way,” says Lycett. “But this was wonderful. Richard Tice was in Birmingham, canvassing for Reform. It was the day an article had been published about how he'd allegedly failed to pay almost £100,000 in corporation tax. We happened to drive past him, so I wound down the window and shouted ‘Pay your tax, you silly bastard!’ And in the back of the car, the Punisher said ‘Bastard!’ One of his first words. Proud of him.”

If it’s not too clunking a segue, the 38-year-old comedian, presenter, artist and proud Brummie is about to unveil another of his babies: the first major solo exhibition of his paintings. Titled Every Thing Must Go, it celebrates nostalgia, grief and loss by exploring the theme of “things that are no longer with us”.

The Nerve caught up with Lycett to discuss art as therapy and what’s missing from contemporary comedy – plus parenthood, politics and his participation in the eagerly awaited new series of blockbuster BBC hit The Celebrity Traitors. 

In bed at 4am, which is when all my ideas come. I've experienced a little bit of loss and grief over the last few years – some positive, losing things that I'm quite happy about, and other things that I’m much less happy about. It felt like an open door from a creative point of view. An exciting, liberating theme. 

Two of the paintings are of my friends Andrew Weatherall, the legendary house DJ, and David, who was the common link between us. David would bring Andrew along to my standup shows and we'd have dinners together. Andrew was such a deep thinker, very witty and would send me novels that he'd read. They died in quite quick succession and it was important for me to have them both there. They’re hung next to each other, underneath a towering Creme Egg. Which is controversial because you might say the Creme Egg is still with us, but not the original and best recipe, before Kraft took over Cadbury and destroyed it for everyone.

There are extinct animals. I did loads of research into all the weird and wonderful creatures that have lived over the millennia. Josie Long told me a statistic which blew my mind. Since 1970, we've lost 73% of our wildlife population. It’s done in a silly, jolly way but I hope that’s one of the things that people will take away – all the things we’ll never see again because of what we've done to the planet. There are deceased celebrities that I’ve loved or maybe not loved; Margaret Thatcher – I couldn’t possibly comment which category she falls into – and Cilla Black. She’s become this fascinating cultural figure, used a lot by Cold War Steve in his artworks. She’s sort of the original hun. And there are Birmingham landmarks, like the Electric cinema. Until it closed down two years ago, it was the UK’s oldest working cinema. I’m channelling my anger at the way developers treat our cultural institutions.

Salon-style with loads of art everywhere. There’s a giant sculpture in the middle of the room, plus lightboxes, taxidermy, stained glass, all sorts. I wanted it to be a bit overwhelming when you first enter. It’s very much inspired by the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition. I’d love to set up a Birmingham equivalent someday. 

Because my son was born, I could procrastinate more. But I only have three days of childcare per week, so I have to knuckle down. Also I feel sad if I’m not making something – whether it’s art, TV or writing jokes. It’s an important part of my mental health. Was it Picasso who said “inspiration exists but it needs to find you working”? That’s very true. 

It’s always been therapeutic. I started painting properly when I was at Edinburgh festival in 2013, doing a bad show and having a terrible time. I've been painting ever since. Some of my favourite work in this exhibition was done when I was filming The Celebrity Traitors. I'm NDA'd up to my tits and can’t say anything about it. 

Loved it. It was an amazing group of people and it’ll make extraordinary, funny, gripping television. Nice try but I can’t say more than that.

I’m bracing myself and absolutely terrified, but I will. If they're nice about it, I'll shout to the rooftops. If they're not, I'll slag them off and say that they're stuffy, sneery old wankers. It’s a tale as old as time.

“Shit off” is a great one. There was a teacher at school called Miss Wood and one of the kids graffitied “Shit off, Wood” on a wall. I still find that funny. 

God, I wish. Hang on, let’s be mysterious. Conversations might have happened but I can't say anything yet. I did musical theatre at school, so I love singing. I’m Sorry, I Haven’t a Clue is perfect – showing off while not taking yourself too seriously. Listening to that show as a kid was the first thing that got me into comedy, so I love going on it now. If they asked me to do it every week, I would.

Chaotic and unprofessional. Actually, after I've finished this interview, I'm going to fill in my application for my alcohol licence. I wanted to send a cake with my application, just to see if it would get it over the line quicker, but that would be classed as a bribe. Instead I've had the form printed out onto a cake and I'm going to fill it out in icing sugar to see if that breaks the rules. I thought it'd be fun to sign my name with a piping bag, basically. I want to start each episode with a musical number, like Cilla on Surprise Surprise. You don’t see TV hosts singing the theme tune these days. This is why we’re in Broken Britain. I’m hoping to revive that tradition. I’d love it if Victoria Derbyshire started Newsnight with a big number.

It’s called “Do You Really Lycett? Is It, Is It Wicked? We’re Lovin’ It, Lovin’ It, Lovin’ It. We’re Lovin’ It Lycett.” When I run out of Lycett puns, that’s the time to stop touring. It will be the universe saying “you've got nothing left”.

Completely. Chemically, I feel changed. I'm more tired. Definitely more cautious. I’m like a health and safety inspector whenever I enter a room, constantly looking for hazards. Parenthood has also revived my love of silly noises and daft accents. I'm 15 different characters every day while playing and reading him stories.

People keep messaging me asking: “Are you Binface?” Which is an honour, frankly. He's very funny. It’s a good bit of business. It's an extraordinarily politically dumb thing that Farage has done, allowing himself into a situation where he's got to spend the summer having moral arguments with a bin. Besides, some of the bin’s policies are great. Part of me thinks we've had so many prime ministers over the last decade, why not give the bin a go? How different are any of them to bins, really?

There's so much to be enraged about, it’s crippling. But the main thing is climate change and we’ve somehow veered away from it. It almost feels nostalgic. Like, do you remember when we cared about global warming? Now we're just sort of resigned to it. But we are all cooking and knowingly doing it to ourselves. There doesn’t seem to be any political appetite to unravel it. It makes me angry, scared and ultimately sad. We’d rather buy a new jacket every five days than preserve the awe-inspiring world around us.

Community. Public spaces. People looking after each other. Having a child means I'm engaging with much more of my local community now. Despite my despair at global warming, I’m probably the most hopeful I've ever been. I feel very hashtag blessed. Hashtag live, laugh, love. Just preferably not in 40-plus degrees, please.

I think Bob Monkhouse is one of the all-time greats of gag-writing. One of my favourites is: “My father only hit me once but it was with a Volvo.” Also: “My wife calls me Spider-Man. Not because I’m agile but because I can't get out of the bath unaided.”

Joe Lycett’s Every Thing Must Go is at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery from 29 July to 21 February 2027. Admission is free. Joe tours the UK from April 2027, for details see joelycett.com