The Fringe Bar is predictably packed to the gunnels for the preview to the annual Comedy Festival. I am squashed in at the back and can’t see to write. Luckily, my companion Badeos offers his phone to light my way to a review.

MC Samantha Hannah ramps things up. She’s from Scotland, and has found her way to New Zealand with the help of Tinder. She’s got a line-up of comedians to offer us, so here goes.

First up is Li’I Alaimoana. His theme is friends and how they need to be better – a theme worth elaborating on I reckon. He mentions the emotions experienced by the comedian before going on – a salutary reminder to us that comedians are human beings, and they aim to please.

He is followed by Alayne Dick. She is lesbian and spends her time making jokes via the internet, with perhaps predictable consequences. That’s a risky business. You wouldn’t think that being a librarian is though, but telling stories to pre-schoolers can be an activity with sometimes unpredictable consequences.  

Now we meet Hoani Hotene. He has done an immersion course in Te Reo where he encountered lots of syllables, makes interesting references to whales and complains about a dental problem. Can anybody help? He concludes with a card trick to the great amusement of those in the front row.

Viki Moananu is next. He has suffered mental illness – yes, it’s a thing – but has given up therapy in favour of listening to podcasts about, you’ve guessed it, comedy. He introduces ostensibly serious themes of war and religion.

Destiny’s Cousin turns out to be four women – Catriona, Estella, Cassidy and Renata – who offer a recommendation for the Church of Mathematology and give us a musical number about survival. Inaudibility is a problem, probably because only one mic is provided.

Anna McLean and Lesa MacLeod-Whiting provide an impressive piece of political satire. It’s set in the Koru Lounge. “What I say to you is …” is immediately recognisable. So are references to safety demonstrations, tightening seat belts and political turbulence. This piece is promisingly relevant. 

Kajun Brooking tells us he’s been four years in comedy. He’s from Kapiti, home, he says, to Jurassic Pakeha. He’s in a WINZ WINZ war, and he’s got a tattoo that’s had him cancelled from the marae. Watch out – this guy’s got a wicked wit.

Krystene Nation has mental health issues and five kids. Having kids is a hobby she asserts. She ventures into one of the standbys for a comedian – a send-up of body parts. Hers is particularly graphic. Not a show for the fastidious.

Now we get Jak Darling. Outlandishly tall, clad in a full-length lemon-yellow frock, offset with a moustache, their outlandishness extends to a description of an identical twin brother and where you’d be likely to find him. Jak has stopped looking for a relationship, but if there’s anyone out there who’s also stopped looking for a relationship, perhaps they could meet up?

Jerome Chandrahasen concludes the evening. He’s from Naenae, a place he says that suffers from couches. Apparently, they’re everywhere. He needs to buy one, and objects when the salesperson says they’ve got none in. “But I’m looking at one,” says our man. Of such stuff is comedy made.

The Comedy Festival is a smorgasbord. Come along and sample.

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