Despite rail strikes and the inherent sadness of buses, Christopher Macarthur-Boyd makes the commute from Glasgow to Edinburgh to deliver a solid hour of stand-up, the job he loves (aka his octopus). He notes his perplexity that the routine he considers to be ‘an existential scream of despair’ was described by one critic as ‘breezy’. But, to give that reviewer their due, MacArthur-Boyd does have a warmly nonchalant and uplifting presence even when recounting dark times, breakdowns and pessimism for the future. 

At 5ft 3”, and never the ‘fuckboy’ his mum once imagined, Macarthur-Boyd is the first to disclaim any sort of machismo. If challenged, however, he’s always ready to spit back with his obstinate, coolly rational intellect. This and a friendly charm are his greatest comic weapons. 

Whether identifying analogical flaws in the ‘sheep’ insult, being vindicated by the fact that, etymologically, the word ‘nonce’ does indeed come from ‘nonsense person’, or pointing out that his mum can’t exactly punish him if he kills himself, Macarthur-Boyd is a fair player who’ll take a hit only if the arguments are sound. Although rarely inspiring riotous laughter here, he’s a cool comedy pro with a brilliant persona that you can’t help but admire.

Reviewed at Monkey Barrel as part of Edinburgh Fringe.