Edd Rivera is appearing at BATS studio and he attracts a full house. A large, bearded, cheerful-seeming figure looms before us. His T-shirt reads “I can eat tacos”. This is Edd? Well, Eduardo.

He’s been in New Zealand for four years – working in Mexican joints, managing to stay in employment despite advising customers, “This isn’t a real burrito.” He’s amazed at the self-check-out system we’ve got here and disarmingly informs us he can’t be trusted with it. 

But wait! There’s more. There’s two of them. An even larger Mexican appears in place of his introducer: the Edd of the main bill. “I’m brown – soccer brown not rugby brown” – and we’re off.

Edd hails from Auckland, though originally Tonala, Jalisco, and he’s popped down (if that’s the word) for the festival. He’s new to Wellington and he’s appreciating having his own personal air conditioning.

Self-deprecation is a hallmark of this performance and the principal reason for Edd’s success. I’m getting hints of Billy T James. He works in construction – making tunnels – but doesn’t enter them any more. On flights, the attendants take one look at him and reseat him in business class. On deciding to emigrate to New Zealand, he thinks that means he’ll be able to visit London.  

As well as digs at immigration, there’s riskier territory and I find myself wondering why it is that someone from another country can get away with a joke about one of our dearest-held laws. If a New Zealander made such a joke, he/she/they would be greeted with a stony silence. What’s going on?

I hope I’m doing sufficient justice to a show emanating the kind of confidence – even joy – that characterises its creator. We feel at ease in his presence, and free to laugh even when perhaps we shouldn’t. But that’s the thing isn’t it? We laugh, wrote Joe Bennett once, not because something’s funny, but because it’s true.

There’s a lot of truth in Edd Riviera’s story. Go hear it – and laugh your head off.

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