Three twentyish lads, who between them comprise Indian, African, Mâori and Kiwi mongrel, cut their teeth on local turf with a show that entertains, and challenges just a little bit maybe, albeit in the usual sorts of ways.  Confronting racial issues through various related topics – terrorism, politics, charities, advertising, school, etc – the young cocks flourish their tail feathers for the approval of their intended mates, in this instance being the adoring paying public.

A short screening of skits involving the boys up to various forms of mischief, not least dressing up in gorilla suits and accosting innocent folk on the street in a crudely homemade Candid Camera or Trigger Happy TV style, precedes the main live event. 

The chosen emcee on opening night is black-porcupine-headed Masud Milas, a tall, dark, strange ‘Afro-Kiwi’.  I’ve encountered Milas once before, to a much less appreciative crowd whom he practically put to sleep due to his low-vibe, economically worded (like me, no?) infatuation with particularly trivial issues of superficial relevance.  Tonight it’s more effective, the subtlety not so lost, and it goes somewhere.  I won’t say where because you have to be there. 

After his opening bit Milas introduces Ruven Govender, whereupon Nathan Matthews takes the stage, introducing himself and apologising for the emcee’s obvious smoking habits.  You couldn’t write this stuff!  I mean, you could, but who would? 

Matthews has a noticeably more highly strung personality than the disaffectedly non-plussed Masud.  There is a likeable freshness to him which carries his act to a great degree, and he’s respectably honest throughout about how he thinks his gags are going down, or not.  Technically he has a strong performing energy, although his impressions of CCF’s Jeriteech (did I spell that right?), the Islamic terrorist on flight 93, even the angry weetbix, all sort of melded together into a generic kind of hip gangster thing. 

Macud bridges the middle of the show with dissertations on Governor Arnie, World Vision, Wendy’s and really important proper-noun type issues like that.  Then it’s time for the real Ruven Govender, a pocket-sized South African Indian migrant in a white muslin shirt.  He has a more upbeat demeanor than Milas whilst sharing his valiantly laid back attempts at artful understatement.  Riffing on such ethnically topical subjects as naan bread, racism, Indian stereotypes, high school and Howick, his pleasant wit generally has the desired effect. 

All three whippersnappers have their ups and downs, with Matthews being the most apologetic.  Altogether they coped well with a small audience in a huge festival and a few more years of the laborious torture that is jobbing standup should see them up there with the creme de la chocolate.

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