Christopher Macarthur-Boyd and Rosco McClelland on Friendship and Comedy

"I didn't like Rosco when I first met him," says Christopher Macarthur-Boyd. "Rosco has this thing where his eyes widen and I always thought he was being sarcastic. One night, we were doing a gig at a pharmaceutical company's social club: I did terribly, he did really well. But, he gave me a cigarette afterwards and I thought, well... he's ok."

For Rosco McClelland, the dislike of fellow comedians on the bill was better than always being asked for a favour. He used to be a plumber, but also sold ecstasy on the side. "After gigs, I would either get, can you sell me drugs, or can you fix my toilet?"

The pair have emerged on the local comedy scene in parallel. There's a sharpness and confidence to Macarthur-Boyd's delivery of stand-up, which recalls American comedians, while his ability to spin a yarn seems more homegrown. He was the bassist in punk band Gunfinger ("The Skinny called us 'surprisingly accessible'") and trained as a journalist before going into comedy. When we're struggling to describe McClelland's comedic style, it's Macarthur-Boyd who offers an apt turn of phrase: "He does 'psychedelic parlour tricks'."

Despite their contrasting styles, the pair have built up to their debut Fringe hours in tandem too. Back when Macarthur-Boyd first tried a long-form show, at the 2016 Glasgow Comedy Festival, McClelland opened for him. He only needed to provide his friend with a conventional warm-up set, but instead brought out the 'parlour tricks'. "I was furious about it," says Macarthur-Boyd. "I mean it was my first solo show and it was absolutely rammed."

McClelland came on with what looked like a tin. The audience were curious, quizzically looking at each other: this is a professional comedian, surely that can't be 'snakes in a tin'?

"It was snakes in a tin," says McClelland.

"Do you remember I did three gigs in an Australian accent?" he adds, about their shared hour at The Counting House later in the year.

"Yes," says Macarthur-Boyd, with both affection and despair flashing across his face. "And I remember last year you made somebody cry."

"It was about the heart thing that I've got," says McClelland. "I was talking about all these things I've done, and how I'm still going, despite the condition. A woman started crying and walked out the room... A guy explained she had two kids who'd died of the same thing." With her friends leaving at the same time, it left just two people at the gig. "I asked, 'Do you want me to keep going?', but they said, 'No, it'll be too awkward'. So that was that – show over – early finish for me you know."

Both comedians have signed with big agencies in the last year. Macarthur-Boyd impressed Off the Kerb performing in the appropriately named Gravesend: "They said if you can do well there you can do well anywhere."

Meanwhile, McClelland lured Gag Reflex's agents in a car park, with a less orthodox approach. "I was going to do Late'n'Live for the first time. I said I'm driving down that way, do you want a lift? Great! And they got in my car. I then reversed into another car and drove away laughing. I think at the very least they were quite terrified."

McClelland's show, 29, is likely to be more of a coming-of-age tale than his more prop-based sets suggest: "I do want to make this year's show nice and fun; I mean I have a bit about jumping off bridges, but that was just the way narrative goes."

Macarthur-Boyd's debut is set closer to home and is as much personal as political: "The show last year was about the rise of fascism, and this year it's about living with my mum and dad. There is a crossover though because my mum and dad are quite racist."