This Welsh-Samoan youngster from New Zealand living in London has a unique position on race relations and cultural perceptions around the world. He seems to be playing up the Samoan angle for us Kiwis – which is great because there are enough comics in the festival who are going to be slagging off London (not that it isn’t funny to do so) and in my experience the funniest thing anyone’s ever said about Welsh people is that they like cheese on toast – a lot.

The 25-year-old bounces onto the stage with the fashion sense of a tacky game show host (yes, James, when you asked if anyone liked your shirt I was the lone voice in a sea of stunned mullets that piped up "Nah" – I have to agree the velcro is pretty cool though) and after a courteous welcome, launches into some Samoan-style crooning "to get the energy up" – i.e. playing the ladies’ man to the acute embarrassment of a few singled-out audience members and everyone else’s glad-it’s-not-me mirth.

Mid-song, in a camp display of passion, a ‘strip-tease’ rids him of the most offending articles of clothing, managing in the process to embarrass an obviously straight bloke near the front. There are a few costume changes. Now in T and black hoodie, he divulges his own bizarre theories on how come domestic violence is a problem in Samoa, and ridicules ‘reverse’ racism in New Zealand politics.

The Classic Studio in my opinion doesn’t do a performer any favours. Jammed in the corner of a small, tucked away room, they invariably look like cornered prey even before they’ve got past the sympathetic applause.

Despite the ‘Studio Syndrome’, Nokise’s initially nervous energy quickly becomes the fuel for cleverly delivered songs and conversational repartee on: being beige ("the features are right but the skin is white"), childhood anecdotes, government politics, the KFC god, teenage pregnancy. He’s in his element on the subject of Samoan culture in New Zealand. On the other hand, some of his political commentary, though shrewd, has intense moments where you forget you’re watching comedy and it feels instead like talkback radio.

Being a pasty part-Samoan who’s spent a fair amount of time in London, Nokise wields a unique flavour of street smarts – a bit nancy, but sharp as a tack, self-assured, and able to switch personas from English toff to London lout to south Auckland wannabe gangsta as suddenly as he changes outfits.

There are times when Nokise loses faith in the direction of a joke and lets it fizzle, moving quickly to something else and, while I commend the self-awareness to know when he’s not connecting with us, it comes across as faltering confidence. This is part of his charm though – a self-conscious youthful enthusiasm that sometimes has him getting ahead of himself, stumbling on words and saying ‘like’ a lot. 

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