From Paramilitary Hecklers to Five-Star Crowds: The Comedy Cellar Wasn’t Always This Easy

Comedy looks easy… now.

Seven nights a week, I host The Comedy Cellar Edinburgh – a five-star rated, underground comedy experience right off the Royal Mile. Tourists pack the place out, locals come for the late-night chaos, and every laugh feels effortless.

But trust me — it wasn’t always like this.

Let me take you back.

Before the Edinburgh Fringe, before the five-star Google reviews, before “The Good, The Bad & The Irish” became a comedy brand — I ran my very first show in a divided city, in a tense little bar in

Northern Ireland.

I'm from the Cityside of Derry, a Catholic area. I was asked to organise a comedy night in the Waterside — the Protestant side. Now, if you don’t know Northern Ireland’s history, all I’ll say is: people don’t exactly cross that river for the craic.

But I was young, hungry, Irish, and mad enough to do it.

The gig was at The Icon Bar & Restaurant, and on paper, it was perfect:

• Free keg from Diageo

• £500 a month to book acts

• A manager who loved comedy

We launched strong — three sold-out shows, headlined by none other than Joe Rooney  (yep, Father Damo from Father Ted).

It felt like we were building something powerful — comedy bridging the divide.

The FIRST poster!

Until gig number four.

I advertised it in the Londonderry Sentinel — a name that still sends shivers down my spine. The night came. The room filled up. And in the corner? Ten lads. Crossed arms. Ice-cold stares.

The compère, a rising Belfast comic (now a household name), hit the stage… but every time he got near a punchline, one of them growled:

“Careful what you say next, boy.”

To an outsider, it sounds like heckling. But if you're from the North, you know.These weren’t punters. These were UVF-affiliated hard lads, there to remind us — a Catholic crew running gigs in Protestant territory — that comedy had its limits.

The air in that room could’ve cut steel. I’ve done gigs with no mics, in bars where the lights went out, for stag dos who only came for the pints — but I’ve never seen comedians more terrified for their lives.

And I wasn’t even on stage that night.

We finished the show. We planned the next one. But that tension? It came back.

That experience gave a whole new meaning to “dying on stage.”

Fast forward to now — The Comedy Cellar, tucked beneath The Canons’ Gait on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile, feels like a different world. No threats. No politics. Just belly laughs from people from all over the world.

I’ve gone from watching comedians fear for their lives… to helping them launch careers in the comedy capital of the UK.

That’s why I built The Comedy Cellar — so the next generation of Irish, Scottish, English and international comics could have a stage where it’s about the jokes, not the postcode.

So if you’ve ever thought comedy looked easy, just know — we bled for this.

And if you want to see the good stuff — the raw, the real, the unapologetic alternative to safe, mainstream comedy — you’ll find it underground, 7 nights a week, at The Comedy Cellar Edinburgh.

Before The Comedy Cellar, Irish comedian Michael Porter survived gigs with paramilitary hecklers in Northern Ireland. A raw story behind Edinburgh’s top underground comedy club.

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subscibe below part 2 coming soon

To be continued...