Mitchell & Webb are making a return. There’s a sold-out Smack the Pony reunion at this year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe. And everybody’s gossiping about SNL’s move to conquer the UK. Welcome to the 2025 sketch comedy renaissance!
I write this as someone who’s a tiny (but enthusiastic) participant in this new wave. My sketch-show special Good For Her comes to BBC Scotland and iPlayer this month and I couldn’t be happier that sketch is back in vogue. It’s about time.
When I was growing up in the 90s and early 2000s, our TV screens were awash with exciting, experimental sketch shows that launched careers and pushed boundaries. The subversive impact of seeing an all-woman cast being hilarious in Smack the Pony cannot be overstated. At school, Chewin’ the Fat’s ‘gonnae no dae that!’ echoed through the playground. Later, I discovered the genius of Limmy: first his online videos, then Limmy’s Show, the likes of which Scottish TV had never seen before.
Back then, as well as making us laugh, sketch shows had an important function: giving emerging writers and performers the freedom to find their voice, outside the confines of a traditional sitcom. New characters were born. Without Chewin’ the Fat, there would be no Still Game. Rab C Nesbitt was a spin off from Naked Video, which also nurtured future weel-kent faces like Elaine C. Smith and Jonathan Watson. Rab Florence and Iain Connell proved their worth with Burnistoun before getting the green light for The Scotts. The comedy industry’s sketch-show-to-sitcom pipeline was well established.
Until it wasn’t.
By the 2010s, sketch shows were out and panel shows were in. And budgets were shrinking. Sketch shows – which typically necessitate multiple characters, costumes, sets, and locations – became a tough sell to risk-averse commissioners. Sketch seemed to all but disappear from mainstream culture.
All that remained were recycled memes (‘are we the baddies?’) as pixelated ghosts of a golden comedy era gone by.
But while Jimmy Carr and his panel-show buddies were dominating the prime time, something interesting was happening online. First on Facebook, YouTube, and Vine (RIP). And finally, the game-changer: TikTok.
I downloaded TikTok during the pandemic. Locked down alone and driven to distraction, I started consuming and making comedy videos. I quickly discovered a raft of new talent, including people from communities who are rarely represented in a comedy club, let alone on telly. In the absence of TV opportunities, sketch comics were making their own fun. The DIY scene was absolutely thriving.
The lockdown TikTok boom introduced me to Munya Chawawa, Caitlin Reilly, Michael Fry, and Grace Kuhlenschmidt. In Scotland, the likes of Paul Black, Eleanor Morton, Kim Blythe, James Gardner, and Sophie Rose McCabe gained viral hits.
TikTok has become a comedy incubator, giving performers space to test new ideas with full creative control. There’s no nepotism or auditions required to break into the industry here: the only gatekeeper is the algorithm. We can speak directly to audiences, build loyal followings, and in some cases, transition these to live shows (I’m excited – and terrified – to make my Fringe debut this year).
Of course, being an online comic isn’t all rosy. Putting yourself out there on the internet comes with its own challenges, particularly if you’re a woman. Sadly, trolls come with the territory. But misogyny lurks in all corners of the comedy scene, whether it’s real life or digital. At least on the internet, the ‘block’ button will silence the worst offenders.
If TikTok is the new home of sketch, why bother with TV? After all, younger audiences seem to have abandoned legacy media. But how much of this apparent disinterest is about representation? The first time I watched HBO’s Girls, I couldn’t believe I was seeing a fellow 26-year-old’s misadventures in dating, unpaid internships, and female friendships, soundtracked by Robyn. I devoured every episode; I hadn’t seen millennial experiences portrayed on screen before. It was refreshing.
Which is why I think it’s time – at last – to make way for some new faces, and sketch shows are the perfect vehicle for this. Commissioning comedy has never been so low-risk, with comics able to demonstrate their audience appeal through online success. Without my viral Glasgow-west-end-mum character, Aileen, I’m not sure I’d ever have found myself in the same room as a commissioner.
It’s hard to quantify the huge impact that working with a professional TV crew has had on me. Collaborating with experts in camera and sound, plus an art department, editor, and production has been an immense privilege and allowed me to do things that would never have been possible on my own, with a phone.
It turns out that we’re not, as critics call us, ‘TikTok comedians’: we’re sketch comics, hungry for the same opportunities that were enjoyed by our comedy heroes not so long ago.
Vive la renaissance!
Good For Her comes to BBC Scotland and iPlayer on Monday 14th July, starring Zara Gladman, Kim Blythe, Stuart Cromarty, Sophie Rose McCabe, and surprise guests.
Main Photo Credit Chriss Watt Photography
