January 18, 2026
January 18, 2026

The curious Catholic comedy of James Donald Forbes McCann

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Two years ago, the majority of people, comedy fans included, would likely not have heard of James Donald Forbes McCann. Now, after touring with Shane Gillis, two appearances on the Joe Rogan Experience, and multiple guest spots on Kill Tony, including a brilliant set on this week’s Netflix airing of the show, the once unknown Australian comic is securing his place as one of the most beloved acts on the circuit.

For those of us with one foot in the comedy podcast world and the other in the Catholic world of online content, we may remember first coming across McCann in 2022, and later again in 2024, on Matt Fradd’s Pints with Aquinas, a channel on which he also had a temporary show of his own. This apparent juxtaposition in McCann’s person, being both a traditional Catholic and a stand up comic, is immediately intriguing and brings to bear some obvious questions around vulgarity and morality. Looking at his sets, there is certainly much that could be criticised from this perspective. Yet, arguably, this discordance between belief and profession has brought about much of what is unique and enjoyable about him as a comedian. As such, one is left pondering where synthesis might be found.

Speaking to Fradd in 2024, McCann addressed the question of how he could square the many moral circles of being a practising Catholic in the comedy scene, with a particular focus on his use of vulgar language. Being candid about his own unease with the subject, McCann states that his wrestling with it led him to the concept of honesty, saying: “I would never say something I couldn’t religiously get behind”. Fradd acknowledges this, citing examples in which McCann shines a light on absurdities found in modern liberal culture, though he maintains his unease about the crude delivery. Curiously, in what seems an attempt to partially justify the jokes, Fradd then labels McCann a “covert Catholic” for his ability to cause secular audiences to laugh at a Catholic critique of the culture. However, while certainly tempting, this seems a mistaken angle. It is one seen through the lens of a Catholic podcaster, writer and speaker whose work requires him to be concerned with the clarity and morality of his speech. On the contrary, this is not the burden of a comedian. Were McCann approaching his comedy as a covert Catholic, seeking to smuggle Catholic truths to a secular audience, his material would surely fail to be funny. As the term itself suggests, the fruit of such comedy would be forced and coercive, neither of which could be said of McCann’s material.

Instead, though simple and undeveloped in the interview, McCann’s own response of honesty carries considerable weight in joining these two worlds. One might explain it as McCann’s Catholicism not being the end of his art form, but the lens through which he sees the world. As such, he is freed from the burden of having to catechise an audience and instead acts, like all good comedians, as a prophetic jester poking holes in the absurd realities our society has constructed. Though loose with his tongue, the underlying substance of his jokes remains grounded in a Catholic experience and view of the world, and therefore in truth.

A perfect example of this can be seen in his YouTube comedy special Black Israelite, which since its release last September has amassed 1.3 million views. Twenty minutes in, McCann closes his set with a number of hilarious takes on Kanye West. Quoting Ye’s song Send It Up, McCann says his favourite Kanye lyric is: “when I go raw I like to leave it in”. Anticipating people’s disgust at its lewdness, he jokes that “it’s one of the few rap lyrics you could play to the Pope”. McCann then doubles down on the point when discussing different methods of contraception, stating: “pulling out is gross and evil, and makes sex bad and lame”. His reasoning is that it prevents people from reaching full intimacy with their partner. The whole bit, which makes up only two minutes of his act, is by far the strangest presentation of the theology of the body most people will ever encounter, and all the more funny for that reason. Moreover, it perfectly demonstrates the strange convergence of his faith and humour before a secular audience who would no doubt disagree with his viewpoint. However, because his sincere objective is not to win them over to an argument but to make them laugh, trust is developed and his perspective is given a fair hearing. This is not covert Catholicism. It is simply good, honest stand up.

That said, I am not ignorant of the fact that “good stand up” is widely subjective. While having gone to an all boys’ school did a superb job of dulling any awkwardness I might have towards crude humour, I still recognise people’s objections and disgust towards it. The teleological perspective that the proximate end of speech is truth, and ultimately the glorification of God, and that the use of base language is therefore not only a distortion of the purpose of speech but undignifying of man, certainly has force. However, when applied solely to words without context, such a framework feels overly rigid and lacks an appreciation for the fluidity of language and communication. Applied to comedy, we see that there is often a finesse to truly good jokes, especially rude ones. Nowhere is this clearer than in the absence of such finesse. In such instances, the punchline relies on rude language and the joke ceases to be funny. The gift of a true comedic artist is not to rely on such language, but to use all language to convey a deeper, more impactful and funnier point. One might even compare it, albeit at a stretch, to the difference between a naked woman in a Renaissance painting and a pornographic image. Where the latter offers nudity as the end, the former uses it as the means.

Viewed in this way, we can begin to see McCann’s style of comedy for what it is. His attempt to remain grounded in honesty demonstrates that regardless of which vocabulary he uses to execute a joke, the broader telos of his speech is still being pursued, if not fully met. Furthermore, the method by which he crafts his jokes shows intentionality in his use of words. They are not there simply to offend, shock or disgust his audience, but to punctuate his comedic commentary. That this will offend, shock and disgust some is inevitable and largely a non factor, particularly in the modern social climate. This is not to suggest a complete moral relativism around language, but rather to promote a holistic method of analysis that asks where, how and why it is being used. In McCann’s case, his distinct humour brings genuine joy and laughter to many. While it would be deeply inappropriate to hear such material from the pulpit, a real good is brought into the world by his act on stage, even in its crude form.

Two years ago, the majority of people, comedy fans included, would likely not have heard of James Donald Forbes McCann. Now, after touring with Shane Gillis, two appearances on the Joe Rogan Experience, and multiple guest spots on Kill Tony, including a brilliant set on this week’s Netflix airing of the show, the once unknown Australian comic is securing his place as one of the most beloved acts on the circuit.

For those of us with one foot in the comedy podcast world and the other in the Catholic world of online content, we may remember first coming across McCann in 2022, and later again in 2024, on Matt Fradd’s Pints with Aquinas, a channel on which he also had a temporary show of his own. This apparent juxtaposition in McCann’s person, being both a traditional Catholic and a stand up comic, is immediately intriguing and brings to bear some obvious questions around vulgarity and morality. Looking at his sets, there is certainly much that could be criticised from this perspective. Yet, arguably, this discordance between belief and profession has brought about much of what is unique and enjoyable about him as a comedian. As such, one is left pondering where synthesis might be found.

Speaking to Fradd in 2024, McCann addressed the question of how he could square the many moral circles of being a practising Catholic in the comedy scene, with a particular focus on his use of vulgar language. Being candid about his own unease with the subject, McCann states that his wrestling with it led him to the concept of honesty, saying: “I would never say something I couldn’t religiously get behind”. Fradd acknowledges this, citing examples in which McCann shines a light on absurdities found in modern liberal culture, though he maintains his unease about the crude delivery. Curiously, in what seems an attempt to partially justify the jokes, Fradd then labels McCann a “covert Catholic” for his ability to cause secular audiences to laugh at a Catholic critique of the culture. However, while certainly tempting, this seems a mistaken angle. It is one seen through the lens of a Catholic podcaster, writer and speaker whose work requires him to be concerned with the clarity and morality of his speech. On the contrary, this is not the burden of a comedian. Were McCann approaching his comedy as a covert Catholic, seeking to smuggle Catholic truths to a secular audience, his material would surely fail to be funny. As the term itself suggests, the fruit of such comedy would be forced and coercive, neither of which could be said of McCann’s material.

Instead, though simple and undeveloped in the interview, McCann’s own response of honesty carries considerable weight in joining these two worlds. One might explain it as McCann’s Catholicism not being the end of his art form, but the lens through which he sees the world. As such, he is freed from the burden of having to catechise an audience and instead acts, like all good comedians, as a prophetic jester poking holes in the absurd realities our society has constructed. Though loose with his tongue, the underlying substance of his jokes remains grounded in a Catholic experience and view of the world, and therefore in truth.

A perfect example of this can be seen in his YouTube comedy special Black Israelite, which since its release last September has amassed 1.3 million views. Twenty minutes in, McCann closes his set with a number of hilarious takes on Kanye West. Quoting Ye’s song Send It Up, McCann says his favourite Kanye lyric is: “when I go raw I like to leave it in”. Anticipating people’s disgust at its lewdness, he jokes that “it’s one of the few rap lyrics you could play to the Pope”. McCann then doubles down on the point when discussing different methods of contraception, stating: “pulling out is gross and evil, and makes sex bad and lame”. His reasoning is that it prevents people from reaching full intimacy with their partner. The whole bit, which makes up only two minutes of his act, is by far the strangest presentation of the theology of the body most people will ever encounter, and all the more funny for that reason. Moreover, it perfectly demonstrates the strange convergence of his faith and humour before a secular audience who would no doubt disagree with his viewpoint. However, because his sincere objective is not to win them over to an argument but to make them laugh, trust is developed and his perspective is given a fair hearing. This is not covert Catholicism. It is simply good, honest stand up.

That said, I am not ignorant of the fact that “good stand up” is widely subjective. While having gone to an all boys’ school did a superb job of dulling any awkwardness I might have towards crude humour, I still recognise people’s objections and disgust towards it. The teleological perspective that the proximate end of speech is truth, and ultimately the glorification of God, and that the use of base language is therefore not only a distortion of the purpose of speech but undignifying of man, certainly has force. However, when applied solely to words without context, such a framework feels overly rigid and lacks an appreciation for the fluidity of language and communication. Applied to comedy, we see that there is often a finesse to truly good jokes, especially rude ones. Nowhere is this clearer than in the absence of such finesse. In such instances, the punchline relies on rude language and the joke ceases to be funny. The gift of a true comedic artist is not to rely on such language, but to use all language to convey a deeper, more impactful and funnier point. One might even compare it, albeit at a stretch, to the difference between a naked woman in a Renaissance painting and a pornographic image. Where the latter offers nudity as the end, the former uses it as the means.

Viewed in this way, we can begin to see McCann’s style of comedy for what it is. His attempt to remain grounded in honesty demonstrates that regardless of which vocabulary he uses to execute a joke, the broader telos of his speech is still being pursued, if not fully met. Furthermore, the method by which he crafts his jokes shows intentionality in his use of words. They are not there simply to offend, shock or disgust his audience, but to punctuate his comedic commentary. That this will offend, shock and disgust some is inevitable and largely a non factor, particularly in the modern social climate. This is not to suggest a complete moral relativism around language, but rather to promote a holistic method of analysis that asks where, how and why it is being used. In McCann’s case, his distinct humour brings genuine joy and laughter to many. While it would be deeply inappropriate to hear such material from the pulpit, a real good is brought into the world by his act on stage, even in its crude form.

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