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Posted On: August 31st 2026, 05:10 pm
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Faces of the Fringe: Ollie Horn
I first came to the Fringe in 2015. I’d heard about it loads on podcasts and I slept on a friend’s kitchen floor on a Lilo and tried to get spots. I did my 45-minute show in 2018 and it’s continued to grow since, but the growth hasn’t been linear. It’s not like every year it’s got bigger and bigger. Everyone is good at sharing their successes, and that can give you a warped perception of how well everyone’s doing. I think what’s hard is remembering why you came and what success means to you. It’s very easy to look at other people and go, I want what they’re having, or I wish I was selling their number of tickets. Particularly as a new act, you want everything all at once and it’s very hard not to get a sense that everyone’s doing way, way, way better than you. They’re not. They’re just not. I try not to think too ambitiously too often because I think that can make you forget that what you’ve got is already brilliant. If all of this was in order to get on Live at the Apollo, I think I’d be quite sad. I say this to my friends at the Fringe all the time: we were literally dreaming of this. A friend got offered £50 to do a spot and went, “I’m not sure.” You have to check yourself and go, 10 years ago, you were sending emails to this person and they were ignoring you. Now they’re coming to you and offering you money to do something you once dreamed of being able to do.
We’ve got to make sure that we remember we are quite literally living our dream. Ten years ago, I was in a coffee shop at the Fringe with a friend who was already established in comedy. The barista recognised him and said, “I’m a big fan. I loved your show.” I remember thinking, that’s so cool. To be walking around town not knowing whether someone you meet has watched your show and loved it. A bunch of people have a little secret about you, and that secret is they love your work. I remember thinking, God, I’d love that to happen one day. Yesterday I was walking with my agent and someone came up and went, “Oh, Ollie.” She asked if that happens very often. I’d sort of forgotten about that memory until this guy said he loved the show. Now it’s happened.
I first came to the Fringe in 2015. I’d heard about it loads on podcasts and I slept on a friend’s kitchen floor on a Lilo and tried to get spots. I did my 45-minute show in 2018 and it’s continued to grow since, but the growth hasn’t been linear. It’s not like every year it’s got bigger and bigger. Everyone is good at sharing their successes, and that can give you a warped perception of how well everyone’s doing. I think what’s hard is remembering why you came and what success means to you. It’s very easy to look at other people and go, I want what they’re having, or I wish I was selling their number of tickets. Particularly as a new act, you want everything all at once and it’s very hard not to get a sense that everyone’s doing way, way, way better than you. They’re not. They’re just not. I try not to think too ambitiously too often because I think that can make you forget that what you’ve got is already brilliant. If all of this was in order to get on Live at the Apollo, I think I’d be quite sad. I say this to my friends at the Fringe all the time: we were literally dreaming of this. A friend got offered £50 to do a spot and went, “I’m not sure.” You have to check yourself and go, 10 years ago, you were sending emails to this person and they were ignoring you. Now they’re coming to you and offering you money to do something you once dreamed of being able to do.
We’ve got to make sure that we remember we are quite literally living our dream. Ten years ago, I was in a coffee shop at the Fringe with a friend who was already established in comedy. The barista recognised him and said, “I’m a big fan. I loved your show.” I remember thinking, that’s so cool. To be walking around town not knowing whether someone you meet has watched your show and loved it. A bunch of people have a little secret about you, and that secret is they love your work. I remember thinking, God, I’d love that to happen one day. Yesterday I was walking with my agent and someone came up and went, “Oh, Ollie.” She asked if that happens very often. I’d sort of forgotten about that memory until this guy said he loved the show. Now it’s happened.
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