Simon Woodroffe OBE, is one of Britain’s most successful Entrepreneurs. He is the founder of YO! Sushi, YOTEL and the YO! Company. Amongst many TV and press appearances, Simon was an original dragon in Series One of the popular British TV programme, Dragons’ Den. First working in theatre, rock shows and television, Simon fell into a depression after his divorce from the mother of his daughter, Charlotte Woodroffe. Feeling “desperation” ref he returned to his childhood aim to become a millionaire. He conceived and created YO! Sushi, opening the first restaurant on Poland Street, Soho, in 1997. ref The venture succeeded, creating a chain of restaurants and popularising conveyor belt sushi in Britain. YO! Sushi and YOTEL have become global brands and Simon continues, through the YO! Company, to conceive of new YO! ventures. In 1999 Simon won the Ernst & Young Entrepreneur of the Year Award ref, the Catey Group Restaurateur of the Year Award ref, and many others for his ventures including Retailer of the Year, Outstanding Retail Experience, and Design and Art Direction awards. YO! Sushi now has more than 500 locations in UK restaurants and supermarkets ref, and “close to 100 restaurants all over the planet.” In 2023 YO! Sushi was sold to Zensho Holdings for £494 million. YOTEL has 24 sites worldwide ref and aims to expand to 50 hotels by 2025. For 60 insights from Simon, read the Book of Yo! (free). He also posts his insights on business regularly on Instagram, tiktok and linkedin.
Q: How did your YO! journey begin?
[Simon Woodroffe]: Well, to go back to the beginning, I left school with two ‘O’ levels, which led me into the rock and roll business. Reflecting the other day, I realized I started my first lighting company in 1975—fifty years ago. Over the years, I explored stage design, television distribution, and various other ventures. Half of these were creative businesses, while the other half involved significant time in television, selling rights and handling international contracts. When I look back, I could weave a compelling, rollicking showbiz story. However, it was actually a journey filled with ups and downs, during which I continuously learned and evolved.
By 1995, facing my third or fourth moment of uncertainty—wondering “Oh God, what next?“—I started YO! Sushi, equipped with extensive business experience, though none specifically in restaurants. In hindsight, I recognize I was creatively inclined, as you suggest, but I also possessed a strong business acumen. In that sense, I consider myself very fortunate.
Q: What were those early days like in the late 1990s as you launched quite a unique concept to market?
[Simon Woodroffe]: You’re absolutely right—at that time, Pret a Manger had three locations open and had been operating for two years. Wagamama, started by Alan Yau whom I knew well, had opened roughly a year before me. Modern chain restaurants like Nando’s hadn’t yet arrived, and very few of those newer establishments have survived until today. Instead, the market was dominated by older brands such as Angus Steakhouses and Spaghetti House, and that was the scene when we entered.
I recall reflecting on my experiences with bands and brands, noting how similar those two worlds are. Bands carefully curated their image, aligning album covers with stage attire, creating a cohesive identity. I thought I could introduce a similar concept to restaurants, despite having no prior experience in that industry. At the time, I was down on my luck and searching for something fresh to pursue, determined to bring excitement and a bit of showbiz flair to dining.
Like many who’ve dined out and thought of nothing better to do, I threw myself completely into this new venture. I’m naturally driven and have engaged in numerous businesses throughout my life. For me, it wasn’t about creating a traditional business plan but rather channelling my 1960s mindset—I aimed to amaze and captivate people. I wanted passersby to wonder, “Have you seen that? What’s going on there?” I understood that excellent food would ensure repeat customers, but initially, my primary goal was simply to astonish and differentiate myself radically enough to draw attention. Ultimately, this desire to make an impression has been the connecting thread in everything I’ve undertaken.
Q: What are your views for those who think there is a formula to success?
[Simon Woodroffe]: I remember when I was starting out, entrepreneurs were becoming the new celebrity chefs, featured on a variety of television programmes. I was fortunate enough to appear because I chose not to discuss boring topics—I aimed to be interesting. One such programme was called ‘Mind of a Millionaire,’ aiming to uncover the secret formula behind success – remember that every consultancy firm had tried and failed to identify a definitive method. I first met Duncan Bannatyne in this three-part series, and I recall Renee Carroll, the presenter, being a good guy. Despite extensive analysis, the show discovered little apart from noting many successful entrepreneurs were dyslexic (though I am not) and that participants frequently cheated or came close during tasks meant to probe our minds.
Personally, I don’t believe there’s a universal formula for success—I can only share what worked for me, which was driven by enthusiasm for new ideas. You’re correct; my era preceded the app craze, and had I come along later, perhaps apps would have been my niche. However, I preferred building tangible things. Later, even when I had opportunities to move into the digital world, I deliberately chose to remain radical and stick with physical creations.
You asked how I maintain innovation. Long ago, before YO! Sushi, I attended an Anthony Robbins seminar where he spoke of CANI—constant and never-ending improvement—which I adapted into constant and never-ending innovation. Nothing is entirely new, but innovation has defined my journey, despite its ups and downs. In YO! Sushi’s early days, I continually introduced fresh ideas to delight customers—I wanted to amaze them. Looking back, our first three restaurants were hugely successful, like having a hit record. Money flowed in and swiftly back out, reinvested into new ideas weekly.
What I value most in people is enthusiasm—not passion, which I find overused—but genuine enthusiasm to see opportunities and act upon them. Although I can be controlling, I increasingly aim to empower others. When YO! Sushi grew and professionals like Robin Rowland joined to scale the company, they focused on details like fish sizes, which didn’t interest me. My goal was simply attracting large numbers of customers because mass appeal guarantees profit. I often advised not to obsess over immediate profits but to prioritise popularity. Like Amazon or Apple, success comes from creating something that garners mass recognition and love. That’s why I embraced television exposure—not discussing mundane restaurant features everyone mentions—but telling engaging stories, making journalists’ jobs easier and my brand more memorable.
Q: What is the role of an entrepreneur’s personal brand in the success of a business?
[Simon Woodroffe]: Look, some people analyse things deeply—I tend not to. Some people call it building a personal brand; others see it as simply behaving in ways that draw attention to your projects. I’ve never been entirely comfortable with the idea of a personal brand. Yet, there are undeniably successful individuals who innovate boldly and possess big personalities, and others who quietly reinvent something as simple as a corner shop and achieve remarkable success without any fanfare. Clearly, there are no definitive rules.
However, if you’re the CEO or founder of a company and you’re good on television, authentic, and able to genuinely connect with people, that seems to be today’s magic ingredient. A perfect example from my time was Innocent Drinks—they were charming, incredibly charming, and I genuinely wanted them to succeed. We often hear about identifying gaps in the market, but I’ve never fully subscribed to that. I believe real success comes from genuinely touching and connecting with people.
I recall attending an annual event at the Albert Hall hosted by the Institute of Directors. The chairman, a traditionally analytical and systematic leader, was delivering his farewell speech. He reflected on his initial belief that success came from meticulous business planning and execution. Yet, at 75, he admitted he’d changed his mind—success, he concluded, truly lies in your ability to connect and resonate emotionally with people, thereby inspiring them to action.
Well, perhaps there’s something valuable in looking back. Honestly, it wasn’t planned that way, but you’re absolutely right. In the early days, I was involved in everything. I was seen as an interesting entrepreneur—a bit of a maverick with a showbiz background who could tell engaging stories. That attracted significant attention to the brand. However, the brand itself was vibrant enough to grow independently and became notably successful. There are only around twenty restaurant chains with multiple locations, and we became one of them. I was very fortunate, considering how rare that success is.
Initially, my personality helped draw attention. I recall Robin Rowland coming into my office and saying, “You’re amazing, Simon—I could never have started YO! Sushi as you did. But you constantly change your mind. Now, at around five or six restaurants, we need a systematic approach to running this business properly.” Recognising he was right, I told him, “If you think you can do better, go ahead.” They looked at me sceptically—I was known as a control freak—but I genuinely meant it. I closed my door, stayed in my office, and stepped back entirely for a year. The business initially wobbled, declined slightly, then recovered and grew under their management.
It was similar with YOTEL. Gerard Greene was my early partner before Hubert Viriot took over. Now, YOTEL has become much larger than YO! Sushi. Gerard always says it still embodies my initial innovations—the robots, the moving beds, all my original ideas. I see myself as someone who seeds ideas well, but others execute them far better. I learned this the hard way; if I’d continued running everything, neither business would have survived. So, my approach was simple: spend three years as a controlling megalomaniac, then completely let go. That strategy worked for me, though it may not suit everyone. It helps to recognise your limitations, go with the flow, and resist the urge to control everything.
[Vikas: I’ve learned that as we built and sold businesses too, you have to let go!]
[Simon Woodroffe]: You’ve done better than I have because I’m currently facing the same challenge with my new ventures. It’s tough, but now I’m less inclined to handle the hard work myself. Instead, I prefer delegating. I recall advice from Gerard Green, my early partner in YOTEL, who said that successfully building anything—from construction to business—is about minimising mistakes from start to finish. That principle applies broadly, I think.
What you’re describing—building a business with the aim to sell it within three years—is about creating value quickly so it can attract significant investment and scale effectively. Your goal seems similar to mine: establish a venture quickly, exit within a few years, and then entrust it to someone with deeper resources who can expand it further. Recognising our limitations and knowing when to hand over control can be critical. Understanding and accepting this strategy has served me well, and it sounds like it might work effectively for you, too.
Q: How did you cope with losing ‘your baby’ at exit?
[Simon Woodroffe]: There’s certainly that issue of it being ‘your baby,’ and also the temptation of waiting another year for a higher return—building more units or expanding further, which is always a gamble. I learned from experience, particularly from my first exit with YO! Sushi. Although we looked strong externally, operating five or six restaurants, internally, we were struggling. A mistake in Edinburgh was draining our resources, and cash flow was tight. Initially, we considered selling to 3i but ultimately chose a smaller firm, Primary Capital.
A couple of years ago, I met the principal from that deal and we candidly discussed our thoughts at the time. Neither side fully realised the other’s situation. They didn’t fully grasp how urgently we needed to sell, and I wasn’t certain they’d agree to my unusual demand—a 1% royalty of turnover indefinitely. The principal confessed they accepted my terms fearing I’d walk away if they didn’t. I admitted that I thought I’d gotten away with something rather bold. Whether fully truthful or not, it turned out to be a fantastic deal for me.
This type of agreement allowed me to retain a lasting connection to my business, continuing to receive quarterly royalty payments from YO! Sushi. Unlike Richard Branson, who famously wrote about losing Virgin, I’ve never really lost YO! Sushi. In fact, I’ve probably made as much money as anyone from it, and plenty of others have benefited significantly as well.
Q: How did you keep your tools sharp, mentally, as you transition from small to medium business?
[Simon Woodroffe]: Transitioning from a small business to a medium-sized one involves significant change. The English language has just one word for business, yet it encompasses countless different things. My entire experience has revolved around startups and relatively small ventures, typically those generating between £300,000 and £500,000 turnover. Not enormous enterprises. My approach was straightforward—I simply worked extremely hard. Early on, I discovered a genuine passion for what I was doing. Despite the stress and occasional sleepless nights, I thrived on the challenge. I was committed, working seven days a week, fully immersed in every detail.
When I eventually stepped back from YO! Sushi, closing my office door, I initially felt lost. I vividly remember sitting and playing Scrabble on my Palm Pilot, wondering what on earth I’d do next. This prompted me to reinvent myself and develop new ventures, such as YOTEL, alongside Gerard. He handled much of the demanding work, allowing me to explore other interests. I purchased a sailboat—an expensive hobby I’d caution anyone against unless prepared financially—and sailed from Panama to Australia. I also pursued climbing and embraced a digital nomad lifestyle, working remotely even from the middle of the Pacific.
Unlike many entrepreneurs who become completely consumed by business, neglecting friendships and other interests, I was fortunate to maintain diverse passions like sports, climbing, sailing, and friendships. I balanced these commitments by deliberately avoiding television and movies—topics where I’m still entirely out of my depth. This choice granted me substantial free time. Today, my secret to productivity and maintaining a fulfilling life is simple: I go to bed early; usually between 8 and 9 PM, eat early, rise early, and consistently remain active. Every entrepreneur must find their own rhythm, enabling them to achieve extensive results while still enjoying life.
Jamie Palumbo, who ran Ministry of Sound—his father was a prominent politician—always described running a business as being like warfare. He was incredibly driven. I’m not sure what he’s doing now, but during his Ministry of Sound days, his commitment was relentless. You’d find yourself next to him in the men’s loo, and he’d immediately start questioning you about business details mid-pee. He never switched off.
Another example is Manny Davidson, a Jewish landlord who sadly passed away recently. He was my first landlord at YO! Sushi. Manny was utterly consumed by work. Although he had a family, things didn’t turn out well, as work was all he knew. His story is a cautionary tale about work-life balance.
I often share a personal philosophy you may have heard me mention: on one shoulder, I’m intensely serious and wholly committed to excelling in whatever I undertake. On the other shoulder, I genuinely don’t care, recognising that my career, YO! Sushi, and similar pursuits ultimately aren’t crucial in life’s broader perspective. When the seriousness becomes overwhelming, I remind myself to embrace the carefree side. It’s essential to maintain seriousness and detachment simultaneously.
Q: How can early stage businesses show credibility to entrepreneurs?
[Simon Woodroffe]: I haven’t invested extensively in others, although I have done a bit, and admittedly I’ve not found the same success investing in other people as I have with my own ventures. On Dragon’s Den, one key point we often made was that demonstrating even small-scale sales—like selling just 100 units to family and friends—is very convincing. Successfully producing something tangible and managing to sell it, however modestly, carries significant weight.
If you’ve begun scaling your idea and you’re actively running the business, it greatly enhances your credibility. Equally crucial is someone who has their own resources on the line, who is fully committed, and who already has experience in business—even including past failures. Commitment and experience count heavily. Your point about building a dedicated team also resonates strongly.
Having genuine stakes in your own venture is vital. There was something else important I intended to add, but it escapes me for now. I’ll tell you if it comes to me.
Q: What does legacy mean to you?
[Simon Woodroffe]: Regarding legacy after I’m gone—I try not to dwell on it too much, as it can easily become an ego-driven concern. Yet here I am, having just written an autobiography, actively engaging with you, building my social media presence, and staying involved. After taking a 15-year break, I was fortunate not to care about fame during that period. However, I do enjoy the visibility now; it facilitates opportunities and invitations to engage in exciting projects.
Legacy itself isn’t my main focus, although I’ve already planned my gravestone, inspired by Spike Milligan’s famous epitaph, “I told you I was ill.” Mine humorously reads “YO Below,” adding a playful element of legacy. In fact, we’re currently living in an era of digital legacies—I’m already speaking with AI experts about creating a digital version of my voice, allowing me to mentor others even after my death. This isn’t so much about eternal recognition, but rather exploring something fascinating and genuinely cool.
I often recall the amusing story of a talent agent in New York who worried about losing income when his artist died, only to realise he could finally license the artist’s recordings without any further hassle. Perhaps that’s the ideal approach to legacy—continuing influence without the complications of being physically present.