Saturday night on Queen Street and the square is teeming with Comedy Fest goers and the like, out with the same intention as I: to have a laugh and see what the night will bring.

At the busy street front entrance to the Wallace Trust Gallery, home to the Comedy Underground, a queue is patiently waiting to gain entrance into Trikes, tonight’s showcase of NZ comedy newcomers: Urzila Carlson, winner ‘NZ Comedy Guild Best Newcomer 2008’, and Steven Boyce and Jared Fell, both nominated ‘Best Newcomer 2008’. Trikes is on its last night and the queuing curious are a good indication that this comic sandwich of stand-ups have roused interest from their antics. 

Once inside, our chosen vantage for the show is within my safety parameter; far from threat of humiliation. Comedians can melt your self esteem and leave you wanting a shower, as we are about to see in the misleading baby face visage of Jared Fell.

Fresh faced and athletic, he seems personable and sweet. Hell no! This ‘book’ is ‘Gardening’ on the cover and ‘Porn’ inside. Fell’s stage persona is the antithesis of nice, and throughout his cleverly executed set he gets full dollar use of his props, abusing them in more ways than one.

Fell’s set is laced with traditional tricks corrupted to his style and quirky jokes. One about Sth Auckland has me laughing, then protesting in earnest (I’m from Otara, we’re not all bad). At random Fell lets off maniacal screeches that startle even those relaxed by a preshow  drink. He’s a sick little puppy (I’m the classic pot calling the kettle black) and I really enjoyed his performance, in a twisted; I’ve gotta check my boundaries kind of way.

Next up – the filling in the sandwich, metaphorically speaking – is the voluptuous Urzila Carlson. Having recently emigrated to NZ from South Africa, she has taken to Kiwi life with aplomb. Despite an abrupt ‘Go Home racist’ encounter while performing in Hamilton, Carlson, in her distinctive accent, revisits her garrulous first encounters on settling into to her new life.

She touches on personal relationship choices and her foray into the NZ comedy scene, whilst treating the audience to funny accounts of food sins and loves. I’m endeared to Urzila because she has a voracious and self deprecating humour that thrives on bad habits that most women stress about.

Steven Boyce, last up, is a rosy cheeked 19yr old Uni student, with razor wit and ‘you went too far that time’ candour. I understand his bravado; when in my late teens I had the uncanny knack of being completely without a sense of social propriety and Boyce is no different. His humour dances around his child-to-adult life so far and the attached experiences of working in inner city Auckland.

A light-hearted comment grazes perilously close to offence; a two second quip he employs in his set about sexual assault wins only nervous chuckles. While I can excuse this as naiveté. I hope Boyce will exclude this quip from his routine.  The subject of sex is cool in comedy as long as the sex is consensual.

Faux pas aside, I am livened by Boyce’s realisation he’s just revealed he has taken drugs while his Dad is in the audience. It’s funny to watch as he tries hopelessly to dilute the story and his part in it. I don’t know if it’s part of his gag but he looks nervous enough. As an anti climax, somehow the blame falls back onto South Auckland where the aforementioned drugs come from. Every city has a fall guy.

All in all, they’re a tour de force these three, and if tonight’s performances are a gauge of their comic future then their only way is further up.

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