In the ever-shifting landscape of digital video, few creators have carved out a niche quite like Max Fosh. With a YouTube following in the millions and a career built on inventive stunts, sharp social experiments and a well-honed sense of silliness, Fosh is a modern content polymath – part satirist, part prankster, part presenter. But at the heart of it all lies a serious creative discipline and a sharp understanding of how social video really works.
From humble beginnings recording drunken vox pops on Newcastle’s Bigg Market, to launching a fake airline and training a horse to place bets at the bookies, Fosh has taken the concept of the “YouTube creator” and blown it up into something altogether more ambitious. “It’s never been linear,” he tells me. “It’s a constant zigzag, pushing boundaries, seeing what works, and learning from what doesn’t.”
The breakout moment came in 2019, when a fashion week prank involving a makeshift designer outfit made from Primark bags and packing tape exploded online. The video, posted on a friend’s channel, amassed over 30 million views and catapulted Fosh from 800 subscribers to over 100,000 in a matter of weeks. But it was no accident. “I’d spent three years doing radio, learning how to present, edit, tell stories. I had 18 months of YouTube videos behind me, so when the moment came, I had a back catalogue to keep people interested.”
Since then, Fosh has built a lean but tightly run production company, employing a small team of editors, producers and freelance comedy writers. He prefers ideation sessions over spreadsheets, bringing together theatre directors and comedy writers in classic writers’ room fashion to brainstorm the next outlandish idea. “My biggest bottleneck is always the idea,” he says. “The execution I can manage – but that one-line concept? That’s where the gold is.”
It’s all very YouTube-first. While Fosh has built sizeable audiences on TikTok and Instagram, he’s clear that long-form YouTube remains the engine room – creatively and financially. “Short form is discovery, but long form is where the business is. You can’t build a sustainable company from TikTok alone.”
That sustainability has come, in part, from diversification. His global comedy tour – 75 shows across 14 countries – sold out in cities from Sydney to San Francisco. Brand partnerships, from Amazon Prime to gaming platforms, fund some of the more elaborate videos. But Fosh is careful. “People need to believe I’d do this stuff anyway. I don’t want my channel to feel like a billboard.”
He’s equally sceptical about the lure of traditional media. Offers have come, but often with strings attached. “TV often says, ‘Do what you do online – but on our terms, with our red tape, and half the control.’ Why would I?” That said, the pull of legacy still appeals. “I grew up watching TV. I’d love my gran to see me on it. But the creative freedom of online is unbeatable.”
Fosh’s DIY ethos belies a sharp strategic mind. He sees YouTube in almost architectural terms: the thumbnail is the shop window; the first 30 seconds, the welcome pitch. “What, how, why. That’s the formula,” he says. “The title tells you what, the thumbnail hints how, the first 30 seconds explains why.”
He’s no stranger to creator burnout, either. He uploads every two weeks – ambitious, but not self-defeating. “If I make a promise to the audience I can’t keep, the trust is broken. Better to be consistent, but realistic.”
Now 30, Fosh is thinking longer term. “I’m exploring formats, maybe short-run series, content that’s more structured but still mine.” His recent attempt to track down a woman born in the same hospital on the same day as him – and actually finding her – is a case in point. “There’s something beautiful in a story that unfolds over time. It doesn’t have to be fast to be compelling.”
He remains modest about his business credentials. “I’m not a CEO in the MrBeast mould. I just want to make weird stuff and make people laugh.” But there’s no denying the machine he’s quietly built: lean, global, profitable – and, crucially, fun.
As host of the inaugural TellyCast Digital Video Awards on June 5th, Fosh will be standing shoulder to shoulder with the very industry he’s often been seen to disrupt. “I’m thrilled to be hosting,” he says. “Though I can only assume Amelia Dimoldenberg said no.”
If he has a message for emerging creators, it’s simple: publish, learn, repeat. “Make stuff. Put it out there. Don’t wait for permission. The audience is there. They just need to find you.”
And as for what’s next? “A YouTube series. Something with scale, ambition, and just the right amount of stupidity.”
Max Fosh, it turns out, is not just a YouTuber. He’s a blueprint for how to thrive in the digital-first future—one perfectly framed thumbnail at a time.
