Christopher Macarthur-Boyd

He steps up to the microphone looking like he wandered into the wrong lecture hall, clutching a can of Irn-Bru, and speaks in a soft Glasgow drawl that sounds relaxed right up until the panic sets in. A bit might start with buying skinny jeans in a dying Topman or sitting alone in an empty dining room. He lays out the premise in an easy conversational tone, gathers small oddities, and then spikes his voice when the humiliation catches up to him. He never forces a tag. When a room gets quiet, he tends to pause, blink, and drop a dry muttered remark into the silence.

Around Scotland he has moved from Edinburgh Fringe word-of-mouth favourite to touring mid-sized rooms and opening for arena headliners, though he still feels like a comic other comics go out of their way to watch. He sits in an unusual lane: too eccentric and shaggy for mainstream panel shows, but too sharp to remain just a local secret.

His specials, Oh No and Scary Times, work because the self-deprecation never feels like a posture. He talks about anxiety, relationships, and terrible jobs without trying to resolve them into neat life lessons. The material only sags when he drifts toward well-worn Scottish territory, like comparing Glasgow to Edinburgh, where his phrasing can slip into predictable club rhythms.

Co-hosting the Here Comes The Guillotine podcast alongside Frankie Boyle brought his dry sensibility to a broader audience, but Glasgow remains the foundation of his act. Rather than adopting the swagger typical of the local circuit, he built his comedy around being the softest target in the room.