As an American comedian living in Scotland, I’m often asked: “Krystal, why don’t you talk about Trump more on stage? I’ll bet that subject is rife for comedy!” Yesterday he was in Washington, today the schedule says Scotland. I know this visit isn’t a personal attack on me, but woo boy, it sure does feel like it. I live in Edinburgh. But I didn’t come to Scotland so I could be around the most annoying, unhinged, rich Americans in existence.
There are many reasons I don’t tend to talk about Donald Trump that much on stage. For one, that 10 to 20 seconds in the morning before I remember who occupies the position of president of the United States is honestly the best part of my day. And those few precious moments I savour will not be present for me over the next four days, because the aura of Trump’s presence will permeate my consciousness, not to mention all the major news outlets, with everyone giving their very strong opinions on this man who has managed to inflame humanity more than anyone in all of our collective living memory. And what’s more, he doesn’t seem to care.
But it sure does feel like he wants Scotland to love him, doesn’t it? He desperately wants to be embraced as Scottish. His mother was born on the Isle of Lewis, so I suppose that’s something.
But the truth is, he’s just like any other American who comes to Scotland on holiday. I love asking American tourists what brings them to Scotland, because they always say the same thing. “Well, actually you see … I’m Scottish. And I’m tracing my roots.” And I always say to them: “Wow. You should definitely tell every Scottish person you meet that. Watch out, because you’re going to be so popular.”
If I had to find an upside to Trump visiting, and there aren’t many, I’d say at least it makes me look good in comparison. It’s the same reason I love having English people at Scottish gigs. I once dated a Scottish guy who said to me: “Don’t worry Krystal, I hate the English way more than I hate the Americans.” What an absolute sweetheart.
And the thing is, as much as I hate to admit it, I know where Trump is coming from when he expresses a small need for Scotland to accept him. Because I feel the same. I love Scotland. I’ve had my kids here (and not just because it’s free and I can’t pass up a deal). I will always live here. I just know it. I’ve never lived anywhere longer than I’ve lived in Scotland. I have a lot in common with many Scots I encounter. I’ve been drinking heavily my entire life and yet for some reason, still can’t hold my liquor. I buy those weird little flat barbecues and burn a hole in the grass right under the “no barbecuing” sign. I’ve even accidentally said “aye” unironically more than once.
Why don’t I talk about Trump more in my comedy? Honestly, I’ve lived here so long I know more about Nicola Sturgeon and the reintroduction of wolves than any of Trump’s day-to-day blunders.
So he’s here, and nearly every person I’ve told that I’m writing this article has warned me that I’ll probably be monitored and put on some government list of scary, threatening comedians and writers who are flagged as they try to enter the US for saying unfavourable things about Trump. I guess we’ll just have to see how that goes.
It’s difficult to put into words the way his visit truly makes me feel, but I know who could. Nine years ago, during another visit by Trump, the late comedian Janey Godley knew exactly what to do. A one-woman protest, with a very very sweary sign making clear her absolute disdain for the would-be president. Humour and rebellion. Mutiny. Her act of defiance went around the world.
With Trump in Scotland, on his golf course at Turnberry, Godley knew that no long, flowery language was needed. No 1,000-word opinion pieces. (Though she could smash those, too.)
Mr President, you probably don’t even know who Janey Godley is. Which is one of the many reasons you will never, ever be Scottish. But she crafted those beautiful four sweary words saying exactly what she thought of you. She expressed in perfect, poignant prose what so many of us feel down to the marrow of our bones. I won’t quote her directly, of course, but we all know it.
I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here, protected by Scottish police and security. Playing golf and speaking with other powerful men. Enjoying the delicious Scottish tap water. And you’re allowed to do that, I guess. But we don’t have to like it.
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Krystal Evans is an American comedian who lives in Scotland. Her latest show, A Star is Burnt, is at the Edinburgh festival fringe 2025