The Best of Scottish is a standing institution at The Stand, a nightly reminder that Scotland’s comedy scene is not only alive and well, but constantly regenerating in the most unexpected and satisfying ways. The premise is simple, but foolproof: pair a powerhouse compère with a hand-picked lineup of the country’s finest comics, stir in a little Fringe unpredictability, and you get a joyful, chaotic symphony of different comedic voices. The roster changes daily, so you never quite know who’s going to take the stage — and that, of course, is half the pleasure.

Holding it all together tonight is the formidable Susan Morrison, a stalwart of these parts and the voice behind BBC Radio Scotland’s Time Travels. Morrison is one of those rare hosts who doesn’t so much warm up a room as ignite it. Tonight, she’s on blistering form — Oasis, trams, the unlikely miracles of the Fringe — each topic handled with a mixture of whip-smart crowd work and laser-sharp timing. From her opening line, she doesn’t merely read the room; she owns it, bending the energy entirely to her will.

Jay Lafferty
One of the finest comics working in the UK today, full stop. Lafferty has that enviable gift for taking the everyday absurdities of modern life and rendering them as miniature comic epics. She’s a mistress of the slow-burn punchline, letting it simmer before suddenly taking a side-step into the brilliantly unexpected. Tonight, she guides us through a menopause odyssey that could give man, animal, or vegetable a hot flush from laughter, before detouring into her drug-dusted memories of the ’90s and the pharmacological reality of now — more pills, chills, and HRT. Wild swimming, body transformations — all delivered with the precision of a comic who knows exactly how far to push before pulling you back in. It’s essentially a “greatest hits” sampler from her current Fringe show, condensed into a perfectly formed masterclass.

Vladimir McTavish
Vlad might be growing older, but mellowing? Not in the slightest — though, truth be told, he’s always been gloriously irascible. His set tonight careens from the silent disco horrors of modern nightlife to the sheer pointlessness of Dry January, pausing only to take a few choice swipes at the ghost tours haunting his beloved Edinburgh. There’s a literary, almost beat-poet rhythm to his rants, giving the sense of a Scottish William Burroughs cutting through the clutter. Out-of-towners howl; locals nod knowingly. He’s still delightfully unfiltered, still gloriously “insane in the membrane” — and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rosco McClelland
McClelland is one of the best Scottish comedians around, towering over all and sundry, mining the overlooked corners of working life, job interviews, the hilarious satisfaction of flipping plastic bottle caps, the peculiar social politics of plumbing jobs.  It’s an unshowy, generous kind of comedy — and in the final stretch of the night, it’s quietly devastating in its precision.

All told, The Best of Scottish remains one of the most consistently rewarding compilation shows : big laughs, deft hosting, and a sense of occasion that somehow feels both loose and perfectly in control. Well worth a ticket — and perhaps a return visit.