What began as playful banter turned into a brutal, unfiltered roast as Gutfeld shredded Schiff’s carefully curated image — from his impeachment theatrics to his Senate aspirations — exposing what many believe is the performance of a lifetime… without a script, or a shred of credibility left.

In a segment that felt more like a Comedy Central roast than cable news, Greg Gutfeld tore into Congressman Adam Schiff with the kind of no-mercy satire that left viewers stunned—and laughing. What began as commentary on Schiff’s long, theatrical career in Washington quickly unraveled into one of the most brutal takedowns in live TV history.

“Schiff isn’t a politician,” Gutfeld quipped. “He’s a walking press release trying to audition for a Netflix series no one asked for.” That set the tone for what followed—a relentless, expertly delivered barrage of jokes, jabs, and one-liners that exposed what Gutfeld described as a career built on melodrama, misinformation, and mirrors.

At the heart of Gutfeld’s critique was the years-long spectacle surrounding the Trump-Russia collusion narrative. “Three years,” he said, “of chasing ghosts while the real world burned.” Gutfeld pointed to the irony of Schiff pushing impeachment hearings while COVID-19 was rapidly spreading, calling it “one of the greatest misallocations of attention in modern political history.”

But it wasn’t just about bad priorities—it was about presentation. Gutfeld mocked Schiff’s delivery style as “narrating a disaster documentary that never ends,” and his facial expressions as “startled owl in a courtroom.” Schiff, he said, didn’t speak to the public—he performed at them, like a “substitute teacher who thinks he’s single-handedly saving democracy with a PowerPoint.”

Gutfeld’s roast hit its stride when he focused on Schiff’s habit of declaring he had “evidence” that never surfaced. “It’s like waiting for fireworks and getting a soggy sparkler,” he joked. “Schiff would promise explosive revelations, and we’d get long pauses, dramatic stares, and nothing else. The man could turn a parking ticket into a constitutional crisis.”

As the House officially voted to censure Schiff—only the 26th time in history—Gutfeld celebrated with biting humor: “Pop their dentures when Schiff finally gets censured. The man with the zombie eyes finally meets accountability.” He continued to mock Schiff’s Senate ambitions, noting that “his announcement boosted U-Haul rentals to Texas.”

Perhaps the most brutal moment came when Gutfeld compared Schiff to a malfunctioning government-issued AI. “He walks around like he’s been trained on outdated spy thrillers and recycled CNN scripts,” he said. “Every sentence sounds like it was rehearsed in a mirror and still flops like a wet towel.”

But it wasn’t all style and satire. Gutfeld reminded viewers of the deeper consequences: Schiff’s role in spreading disinformation while ironically presenting himself as democracy’s last line of defense. “He warned America about fake news while peddling it like Halloween candy,” Gutfeld said. “He didn’t lie—he hosted lies like Airbnb guests. Gave them a place to stay, breakfast, and a press tour.”

In Gutfeld’s world, Schiff isn’t just a misguided figure. He’s a performance artist—drenched in drama, perpetually gasping “this is bigger than we thought,” and pivoting from one fake crisis to another. “He’s the only guy who could lose every hand in political poker and still try to bluff with a UNO card,” Gutfeld jabbed.

The segment wrapped with a scathing mental image: Adam Schiff alone on a dimly lit stage, whispering lines from declassified documents to an empty room, convinced he’s saving the nation. “He thinks he’s Churchill,” Gutfeld said. “But he’s more like the narrator of a Ken Burns documentary no one asked for.”

As Schiff now leans into a Senate run, clinging to the same themes of crisis and conspiracy, Gutfeld issued one final punch: “He’s not being silenced—he’s being fact-checked. And finally, someone changed the channel.”

In a media landscape often afraid to laugh at power, Gutfeld gave viewers what they didn’t know they needed: A no-filter breakdown of political theater, starring a man who thought he was the hero, but never realized he was the joke.