Andrew Sleighter

Sleighter steps to the mic with the posture of someone waiting for their turn at the baggage carousel. Hands loose, volume hovering just above a conversational murmur, he never strains to sell a premise. Instead, he lays out a mundane scenario, like realizing nobody checks room keys at a hotel continental breakfast, and lets the logic unravel in slow, measured beats. When the room gets loud, he barely reacts. He tilts his head, waits out the pause, and drops a quiet tag that makes his petty schemes sound completely sensible.

He is an anchor of the club circuit and a staple on clean comedy platforms like Dry Bar, where his special Breakfast Stealer found a massive audience without relying on gimmicks. He has done sets on Conan and The Late Late Show with James Corden, but his rhythm belongs in a brick-walled club, working for crowds who want punchlines without having to brace for vulgarity.

His strongest material circles domestic thrift. Routines about a mother who freezes gallons of milk from Costco or siblings squabbling over streaming passwords work because he avoids theatrical outrage.

He treats cheapness like an inherited condition.

He does not aim for grand personal confessions, keeping the scope of his act firmly inside ordinary domestic headaches. Based in the Pacific Northwest after years in Los Angeles, he also logged time writing for Norm Macdonald on Comedy Central. You can see that background in how he trims his jokes: setups are brief, the tags do the work, and he never rushes to the punchline.