Speed is Emotional
Written and performed by Jo Randerson

Speed is Emotional is exactly what it sounds like: fast, funny, a little chaotic, and completely its own thing.

Written and performed by Jo Randerson, the show dives headfirst into what it feels like to live with ADHD. Randerson invites anyone with a neurodivergent brain, and anyone who loves someone with one, to come along for the ride. The audience laughs their way through the strange, familiar, and sometimes exhausting quirks of an ADHD mind.

If you’ve seen work from Barbarian Productions before, the vibe will feel familiar: chaotic, absurd, playful, a little rough around the edges in the best possible way. The show jumps between stories, analogies, props, and visual gags that explain how an ADHD brain works.

One of the most relatable threads for me was the sense that the world around you is moving… painfully… slowly. The urge to talk faster, move faster, juggle ten things at once. That buzzing internal feeling of why is this taking so long? Randerson captures that pace perfectly. For people with ADHD, it feels like recognition. For everyone else, it’s a window into a completely different operating system.

The set deserves a special shout-out. A giant parachute rigged with pulleys rises and falls with Randerson’s movement, like the set itself is a character in the performance. Combined with visuals that pop up throughout the show, the whole thing feels like an “acid-trip PowerPoint”.

Another highlight is the onstage chemistry between Randerson and Elliot Vaughan, who is a strong contender for Best Supporting Role.  While running the sound cues, Elliot and Jo have continous back-and-forth throughout the performance delivering sharp, well-timed comedy that lifts the performance to another level.

The show is a joyful and affirming experience for neurodivergent audiences. Instead of focusing only on the challenges, it shines a light on the strengths, creativity, and resilience that come with living in a brain wired a little differently.

The final musical moment with the band is a big, celebratory finish.  I think this perhaps runs longer than it needs to. I loved how Jo invites the audience into karaoke at the end and I wonder if this invitation of audience participation could happen earlier with the band.

There’s also room for the show to grow. Much of the story sits within Randerson’s own experience, but there’s a hilarious moment where their sons pop their heads through the set to offer commentary on life with an ADHD parent. It’s a brilliant gag, and expanding that idea by bringing in the perspectives of people who orbit Randerson’s whirlwind brain could open the piece to dive beyond the self-narrative.

For those with sensory sensitivity, at times the show can get loud and intense. Sitting near an aisle or bringing earplugs could help if you need a breather.

Much like people who live with ADHD, Speed is Emotional doesn’t try to tidy things up too neatly. It’s messy, inventive, heartfelt and very funny. A show that feels like spending an hour inside someone else’s brain and discovering it’s a pretty great place to be.

The Royal New Zealand Ballet (co-produced with West Australian Ballet) kicks off its 2026 season with royal escapades turned stylish political horrors in a performance of Macbeth utterly trenchant for our times.

You know the themes of Macbeth; witches spur a desire in Macbeth, and his ambition (and that of his wife) leads him towards murder, and eventually his downfall, in pursuit of the throne.

Here, Macbeth (Branden Reiners) is a political prodigy, spurred on by his wife Lady Macbeth (Ana Gallardo Lobania) and three influencers/media personalities (the aforementioned witches – Kirby Selchow, Ruby Ryburn and Shaun James Kelly) to kill Duncan (Laurynas Vėjalis) and commit a variety of other murders to find his way to the top, before his reign of terror is finally ended by Macduff (Zacharie Dun).

For the most part, this modernisation (dramaturgy by Ruth Little) works excellently well, casting us back to early 2000s vibes of Wall Street elite (plus iPhones), glitterati, where actions don’t have consequences and life’s just one big party.

A prescient take, considering the times we find ourselves in.

The modernisation works to a point, changing twilight stabbings to out-in-the-open poisonings, an assassination at a bar, a formerly off-script suicide staged in a bath right in front of us; secrets made flesh for the viewing audience in a way they just aren’t in the original text, to its benefit.  Business as usual the day after the death of the head of a company? Sounds like a typical 2026 Thursday,

I would perhaps question the death of Macduff’s family – which is implied via fiery projection and seems at odds with what’s printed in the programme, though I do commend not actually showing it – the historical precedent stating as much.

Alice Topp’s utterly inspired choreography is a sight to behold. I know Macbeth very well, have seen more than enough playings, and it’s impressive how distinctly some of the key pieces of verse have been translated to the dance; what we know as ballet colliding slickly with modern dance and various other styles to create something entirely unique.

Lady Macbeth’s “Out, damned spot!” becomes a striking moment of utter despondence, held high on the upper level of the set, and culminates with her downing pills and pouring wine over her head as she settles into her bath to die. A pivotal effort from Gallardo Lobania, taking a role that’s traditionally incredibly hard to find within its ambition and its grief, and utterly flourishing within it.

The sizzling, spicy toxicity between Macbeth and Lady Macbeth is enough to melt our ice creams in the auditorium, every duet between the pair an active struggle for power, two people never quite in the same mind as they leap, hold and eventually crumble apart.

What’s more is that Macbeth and Banquo (Kihiro Kusukami) – his long-time friend, in the case I’m guessing main confidant – have about as many duets as M/LM, the pair initially seeming to dance as ambition of a lighter, less pressured sort before they slip away into toxicity too.

The ensemble, too, is given a lot to do; Macbeth and his fellow politicians fighting for control on a long table at the top of the show, as well as several group numbers that inspire thoughts of The Great Gatsby, and all are performed with the flair you’d expect, not a hair out of place during very technically complicated pieces.

The most impressive staging of a pivotal moment in the work comes with Banquo appearing as a ghost to Macbeth. There’s a variety of ways to portray ghosts on stage, but during a banquet; the long table at the back of the stage clothed in bright red, successful patrons celebrating their wins, Banquo drags himself forth from within the table itself, and he and Macbeth struggle for power in a dance that’s a visceral mirror to those previous, before Macbeth tumbles away, both he and his wife broken, at the end.

I’d also note Banquo’s death itself, staged in a lowered set, giving the vibes of an underground bar, which involves stage combat interwoven within the dance and an actively impressively-staged death as it concludes.

To leave out discussion of the show’s production design would feel utterly bereft. Both the set and lighting design (Jon Buswell) are a spectacle, the stage divided into an upper and lower level, the upper level rising up and down and then tipping at one point to create three distinct playing spaces, with nothing wasted. Industrial, several shades of metal, with bloodied/rusted remnants appearing in the final scene, it truly gives the experience of a cutthroat, unprotected industry.

The costumes (Alesia Jelbart), too, ere on the side of minimalist, all but three predominantly dressed in shades of black, white or grey, with the three influencers dressed in red and green visibly the centre of this tortured world, as much as others try to reach for it.

You can’t talk about this show without mentioning its score (Christopher Gordon, conducted by Hamish McKeith, performed by the NZSO), which wanders into the realm of rock opera at points, Macbeth’s struggle for power literally physically felt in the weight of the music; eerie and visceral string work that haunts the narrative, whilst darting around 40s big band and 70s soul for some of the group scenes.

Never have I wanted a RNZB score to be purchasable at home more than this one; what a treat.

A denouement to remember, Macbeth’s final moments involve him, broken, at the end of his rope, literally climbing up a sloped wall to be put out of his misery, blood slipping down the slope behind him as he falls, a rightful end that is as physically complex as it is incredible to watch. What a show.

Visually and performatively a spectacle, Macbeth lives up to the hype of its stunning production imagery, and sizzles with all the toxic spice you’d hope for. Run, don’t walk to this staging, on across the country now.

Creaking floorboards, howls in the night… just another Wellington storm or is there something spooky hiding in Paramount’s new venue, The Gods?

I’m not entirely sure since I can’t find the place… But a ghostly maze of paths and Fringe staff lead me to the auditorium eventually, where I manage my less than subtle entrance, in time before my favourite line:

“Wait, are we sure that’s a ghost and not a kid that walked in?”

The ghost or kid wasn’t me (or was it?) but a 13-year-old ghost and tiddlywinks fan, Victor (Moe Hawk) who died 136 years ago, and has been confined to this small attic since, yet longs for the real world and real company.

Lucky for Victor, he’s tracked down by tween friends Caleb (Xanthe Curtain) and Billy (Sophie Badrick), who call themselves the Ghost Bros, the name of their YouTube channel which seeks out the supernatural.

Our small audience is treated like their 15 YouTube subscribers as we join their search for ghosts, watch them entertain themselves, argue, and practice their secret handshake. They also try to contact the afterlife through an ineffective Ouija Board, and argue some more over the moral rights of filming their subjects, either dead or alive.

Both the funny and serious moments are emphasised through lighting and sound effects by Tech Operator Michael Trigg. The lighting and soundtrack are well utilised, and I wish there were more effects, since they highlight the catch phrases with effects nicely, and make those without effects seem a lot emptier when there’s so many tricks thrown in throughout the rest of the show.

These effects also help make the 50-minute show go quite fast. Devised by our three actors for the Curtain Call Company, this is the team that brought us Goths Against Classical Music in 2023 and Our Place in 2024.

This show about their friendship describes “the coolest thing that ever happened to us” and answers important questions (important to Victor) like, “do modern people not go to church?”

Caleb and Billy create a safe and fun environment for the audience to join their ghost hunt as if they are searching for treasure, because everything is exciting and meaningful as a young tween, and their excitement is contagious.

It’s lovely to see the acceptance of Victor as he embarks on his own journey (and handshake) to become “one of the bros”.

Whether you’re a bro, a ghost, alive or otherwise, this show is a fun reminder of what was once important to us as kids, and what’s important still. I swear on your afterlife, having the right bros and the right company always makes life better.

[Warning: This piece talks about disease, war and death.]

Matiu / Somes Island is the ever-present spectre looming in Te-Whanganui-a-Tara, one of three islands that the harbour cradles gently within its grasp, and I’ve been meaning to go out there literally ever since I first arrived in the city.

Eleven years later, I finally stopped putting it off.

In 2025 (and 2026, it seems), I’m doing ten things to celebrate living in Pōneke for ten years. There’ll be stories. Pics. Nonsense. Check out the series here.

Matiu has a storied history.

Used as a refuge by pre-Colonial Māori, then acting as a quarantine station for travelers coming into Wellington, as well as an internment camp in both World Wars, the history (both its highlights and its darkness) is palpable the moment you step foot onto the island.

I’d be here all day if I wrote about its many stories, but I do recommend checking out David McGill’s Island of Secrets, and Paddy Richardson’s By the Green of the Spring for more.

The trip to the island isn’t so complicated. Get on the East-by-West ferry down by Master Kong on the Wellington waterfront, drift along on the gentle (or white-capped) waves for 50 minutes as the boat goes to Days Bay to pick up more passengers, and then disembark onto the island after doing a quick quarantine check (as a reserve, DOC doesn’t want foreign ants, seeds or similar on the island, for obvious reasons).

Then, the island is yours to explore. Depending on ferry schedules, you get 1.5-3 hours to wander about at your leisure.

As I’m me and I fundamentally can’t be chill, I used that 1.5 hours to speedrun the entire island, pick up 14 geocaches* and absorb as much information as I could.

The night before, I planned out my route, ensuring I would double back as little as possible. The island isn’t that big, but it is a bit up and down, and I wanted to ensure I had enough time at each spot before I moved onto the next. Route came out to just under 3km, I landed on the island at 10.30 with a deadline of 12.15, and we were off.

First it was off to the easternmost point on the trip, the site of the island’s former degaussing station.

In the Second World War, German forces laid magnetic mines across the entrances of several harbours in Aotearoa – even managing to sink the infamous ship, the RMS Niagara – in Auckland Harbour. As a fun fact, most of the mines in Wellington Harbour haven’t been found. When a ship was degaussed, it became ‘invisible’ to the magnetic mines, and allowed safe passage into the harbour. This process was conducted on Matiu / Somes, by the Wrens.

These days, there’s not much left at the site of the degaussing station, but it’s still a fascinating place to stop off – I definitely didn’t know about Pōneke’s mine-based history, and I will be thinking about the ammo dumps in Wellington Harbour next time I get on a ferry.

Two digital caches safely figured out, I headed back towards the docks and up to the northernmost point of the island, collecting glorious views across to Ngauranga and Petone, before turning south again.

My next stop found me at the memorial cairn.

From 1872, when the immigrant ship ‘England’ arrived with several cases of smallpox on board, Matiu / Somes acted as a quarantine station for those coming into Wellington, both humans and animals; though the island wasn’t used for human quarantine after World War One.

The memorial cairn was placed in the 1970s to remember those buried on the island.

In some places the history is palpable, and on Matiu / Somes it is especially so. Wooden buildings marked with names of animals, cracked concrete splintered through with weeds, and a memorial where the youngest name on it was barely a day old.

Some places are rife with ghosts.

The sadness in some parts of the island is all-encompassing. Though quarantine was more than necessary, the shortcomings – and by extension cruelty – of historical medicine feels staggering.

Smallpox was, and is a horrifying disease.**

I sprinkled my hands and head in water and moved south, following the winding trail, which spat me out at a lookout, before I followed the trail east to the island’s lighthouse, collecting both physical and digital geocaches along the way.

I’m a big fan of lighthouses; my life’s goal is unironically to become a lighthouse keeper, but there’s not a huge amount of them that are accessible to get to in Pōneke. The ones out at Pencarrow are accessible, they’re just interminably dull to travel to, unless you’re a big fan of gravel roads.

This lighthouse is still active, actually. Operated by a keeper from 1866 to 1924, it’s now automated and helps guide ships into Wellington Harbour.

A tramway (pictured below) helped bring goods from the beach up to the lighthouse, and is inaccessible these days – to my disappointment, I adore heritage rail.

Having been pressed against the lighthouse for arguably too many minutes as other people took photos, I scampered away up the hill and up the steepest part of the island to the summit and large anti-aircraft battery on top of it.

These gun emplacements and the nearby command post were built during the Second World War, but much like Wrights Hill Fortress across the harbour, these guns were never fired against an enemy.

As I struggled to reach a geocache at the trig on the summit – much to my chagrin, I continue to only be five foot seven – I shot some pictures for another traveler of them in front of the glorious view and then slid down the hill on my butt on the long dry grass towards the collection of buildings clinging to the hilltop.

These days, Matiu / Somes is a conservation area, having become a reserve for native plants, birds, reptiles and invertebrates including tuatara, kakariki, North Island robin, little blue penguins and wētā.

Historically, these buildings acted as quarantine zones and internment camps. It was surreal to reach the bottom of the hilly slope and come out amongst buildings that had seen so much in the past; to wander through the bumpy terrain and stare off at the former internment barracks*** and animal quarantine barns, ancient weatherboard buildings peeling at the seams.

Eerie. Confronting. An odd place to linger.

Finding more geocaches, I slipped off down towards the wharf again, to eat a muffin and sit in the sun until the Ika Rere showed up to ferry us all back to the city, me at least forever changed.

Matiu / Somes is a deeply strange place. Tranquil in moments, but hard to escape. My thoughts frequent the island now I’ve learned of some of its secrets. Maybe yours will too.

*If you’re a geocacher, you might note there’s not 14+ geocaches on Matiu / Somes – and to that I say – check your AdLabs, there’s another ten in there.

**Matiu / Somes wasn’t just a quarantine zone for smallpox, but for a lot of diseases. One of the most tragic cases is of Kim Lee, who was exiled to “Leper Island” (Mokopuna Island, off Matiu / Somes’ north tip), due fears of leprosy (and likely racial bias.)

I have an interest in epidemiology, and one of the best books I’ve ever read about smallpox is Richard Preston’s The Demon in the Freezer, detailing smallpox and anthrax as biological agents. I’d recommend reading it, but it is harrowing. Also, the phrasing ‘is’ was used as although smallpox is technically eradicated, it still exists in some forms within labs in the world.

***Matiu / Somes Island’s internment history is covered in Paddy Richardson’s novel By The Green of the Spring. 

The wait is over. WITCH Music Theatre is back in town, bringing the candyfloss-sweet hearted magic of Amélie, our new friend at The Hannah (Hannah Playhouse) till Nov 29.

Have you ever opened your favourite childhood story book or movie and wanted to dive right in? Now is your chance to dive into Amélie’s world, which has captured the world’s child-like curiosity since the French motion picture came out in 2001, written by Guillaume Laurant, and Jean-Pierre Jeunet who also directed.

Amélie The Musical is a hop, skip and a song back to the excitement of childhood, where we meet sweet Amélie (Rachel McSweeney) – a curious, spirited 6-year-old with dreams of adventures, and earning the love of her parents (Craig Beardsworth and Gemma Hoskins).

Craig Lucas’s book, and lyrics by Nathan Tysen and Daniel Messé (who also wrote the music) lead us through Amélie’s life and adventures, quickly gaining love from our full house on opening night, with cheers, laughter and applause at the start of each act, not just at the end.

Our tickets welcome us into Amélie’s world in enchanting Paris, where musical director Hayden Taylor’s band bring Parisian street life to Wellington, introducing new friends and characters who support Amélie’s quests alongside finding a proper education, a job, and Elton John (William Duignan) who we adore.

And love? Of course! We all need more love in this world, and this show fills our hearts in every way from the story, music, costumes, set and even puppeteering (James Fisher)  just to really pull on our heartstrings.

I really fall in love with every costume by Polly Crone and Dorothe Olsen,which brings out each character, plus the set by Ben Tucker-Emerson.

The moving lights by Alex “Fish” Fisher are a character themselves that bring this Broadway show to life for us, for a limited time only. The same can be said for the props which would need a team like Courtney Ilton, Scott Maxim, Nick Lerew, Ben and Joshua Tucker-Emerson to stop them running away and help us to follow the story, mysteriously and beautifully mystifying us by the “Mysterious Man” Kevin Orlando.

Being back at Hannah playhouse feels like coming home after its reopening, surrounded by Wellington’s best talent in the audience and onstage – who love this show and pour their souls into it as WITCH always do, led by such genius of our co-directors Maya Nanda-Huff and Nick Lerew who bring a sparkle to everything they touch and everyone in their path.

Amélie takes us further than the world of Paris, to the ultimate escape and joy of childhood where anything is possible, and you should do everything possible not to miss this.

Don’t wait for Christmas, fill the stockings and your heart now with this timeless tale before your time runs out.

Stepping into the Dome stage at Bats on Tuesday night felt almost like intruding. Taking my seat I felt I was brushing past Freya, the character played by writer Tara Weston-Webb, as she sat cross-legged on the floor of her room fastidiously painting brightly coloured icons in a small grid. The approximately 50 minutes of “Messy”, a new play by Weston-Webb, is set in a single flat bedroom adorned in crafted clay mushrooms and dried orange-slice dream catchers that, together with over-stuffed clothes racks, artfully invokes a distinctly-inhabited private space.

In this semi-biographical dark-comedic work the two main actors and co-directors tell a touching story of friendship, self-doubt, and strength. On its surface, Messy is a play about two flatmates figuring out the “what now?” after art school. Gracie (Cayla Louise) works the same retail job she has had for years while she looks for her opportunity to show her paintings. Freya is an accidental drug dealer, improbably yet pleasingly pairing her crafted mushroom sculptures with a “free gift” for those in the know.

The story is told mainly in a series of short conversations between the two friends in that room, with humour that will surprise you and a quick pace to pull you into their relationship in the first few minutes. The intelligent, quipping dialogue is somewhere between Gilmore Girls and an Aaron Sorkin series. Most twenty to thirty somethings will recognise themselves or their friends in these characters, their relationship and experiences. The audience is a third, silent confidant in their rhythmic relationship.

While the story is told in the one room, frequent scene changes keep the narrative moving.  Every transition between scenes was accompanied by a change in costume: Gracie with quick changes in a variety of striking outfits; Freya changing in front of the audience (it is her bedroom after all) in more subtle steps, as if she spends the whole play getting dressed. The constant costume and scene changes contrast with the static staging to give an impression of the self-critical feeling familiar to many including the characters: I’m stuck and everything around me is moving forward. Still, despite the slickness of the scene changes I found myself wishing the co-directors had given us more time to linger with the characters at the end of some of the more tender scenes.

The two main actors and co-directors gave natural and complete performances. The physicality of Louise screaming into a pillow with her whole person was particularly memorable, as were Weston-Webb’s slightly sarcastic direct to audience speeches exposing her character’s anxieties. A short appearance from Sarah Penny as Annie toward the end of the play gave depth and context to the flatmates’ relationship.

“Messy” runs for two more nights at 7pm at Bats and is about 50 minutes long. If you can’t make it, cross your fingers for a reprisal in a future festival.

Learning about it via reading the The Baby-Sitters Club books as a kid and growing up dancing myself, I’ve always wanted to get the chance to experience it, and finally, thanks to this year’s Royal New Zealand Ballet Kiwi twist on a festival classic, I finally got my chance.

RNZB shows are always a spectacle, and this one is no exception. A giant matte painting projection of a classic summer beach landscape greets us as we enter the St James, and the top of the show sets this entire projection in motion; the waves crashing across a distant shore, flowers moving in the breeze, a stylised Buzzy Bee-esque hummingbird-plane fluttering about in the foliage.

There can be challenge in adaptation; some attempts to take overseas works and present them in a ‘Kiwi’ fashion can come off as cloying or insincere, but we open out into an Aotearoa bach in a 1950s-style summer and it feels like coming home.

A giant pōhutakawa tree hangs overhead, and dancers emerge from the water at the back of the stage, carrying snorkels and surfboards. Clara Stahlbaum (Catarina Estévez Collins) and her family and friends are on holiday, about to celebrate Christmas in the most Kiwi of ways. Tchaikovsky’s score (performed by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra) is iconic; you’ve almost certainly heard some of these numbers before, and the fluttering violins set the scene for a perfect summer’s day.

Clara and her family and friends dance joyfully in the sun; couples paired together in similar outfits, but Clara standing out in bright red among them. Clara’s godmother, Auntie Drosselmeyer (Ana Gallardo Lobaina), returned from overseas, is resplendent in shimmering purple and bestows gifts upon the family, including the wooden nutcracker soldier himself to Clara.

A distinct and welcoming interweaving of Mātauranga Māori gifts us with Koro (Taiaroa Royal), Clara’s grandfather, who I adore watching; aside from grounding us a little more in the Aotearoa of this world with wiri and a hongi, the character just reminds me very fondly of the many koro I know from growing up in Gisborne.

Interweaving indigeneity, the Aotearoa landscape and further Kiwi nostalgia of our world helps decentralise the bits of this ballet that haven’t aged so well. This becomes especially apparent when it comes to the series of culinary tableaus later in the piece.

In a moment of deep theatrical magic, pōhutakawa rise up and up above the stage, and we sink down below it, to the roots of the ancient tree where mysterious creatures lurk. The Mouse King (Calum Gray) and his army of vermin leap onto stage with great quadrobic physicality. This antagonist and his friends tend to have regional-specific variations – in New York they tend to use rats, would you believe – but here in Aotearoa the Mouse King’s crew is an army of grey-and-white-furred weasels, stoats and possums.

The creatures encroach upon Clara, but at last! – the titular Nutcracker (Zacharie Dun) leaps to her aid, striding onto stage with his army of soldiers, and an epic sword battle (fight choreo by Nick Shultz) begins. I won’t spoil the demise of the Mouse King, but it too has the same Kiwiana flair.

Ushered away from the beach into Auntie Drosselmeyer’s plane – the same Buzzy Bee-esque one from the opening projection – we fly across Aotearoa and down to the Southern Alps, where a chorus of snowflakes and their Storm Master (Branden Reiners), flit and leap impressively across the stage in clouds and clouds of shimmering snow.

A kid behind me whispers to her mum, in awe, “Is that real snow?” which I guess is what this is all about, isn’t it – and so concludes Act One.

Act Two finds us in the magnificent Land of Sweets, where the Sugar Plum Fairy (Jemima Scott) and the Nutcracker-turned-Prince show Clara and Auntie Drosselmeyer a stunning tableau of sweet treats.

This part of the ballet when done traditionally is quite controversial – it features deeply stereotyped roles such as “Arabian” and “Chinese” dancers – but once more, the power of adaptation has absolutely improved upon this classicism, as these roles are reimagined as Kiwiana treats; a smorgasboard of hokey pokey ice-creams, a group of lolly cakes, two chocolate fish and a trio of pavlovas with dancing inspired by Anna Pavlova herself.

With a collection of flowers, led by the mighty pōhutakawa (Kirby Selchow), bringing a celebratory floral flair to the rest of the Act, Clara flies home, awakening in the morning surrounded by her friends and family.

The Nutcracker is visually spectacular, and at its heart, incredibly charming. Ty King-Wall’s choreography acts as both a reference to the past history of the show and a yearning towards a joyful and magical Aotearoa, with a dose of the saccharine; a true treat for the audience this festive season.

I would perhaps question some of the sightlines, placing some moments to the extreme far left of the stage does mean that those sitting around me are scratching to catch at least one key point in the narrative, but outside of that foible, the show settles itself very charmingly in as one of the RNZB’s best.

It’s PopRox’s Mr Halloween Bachelor at the Hannah Playhouse, a triumphant sequel to last year’s Ms Christmas Bachelorette, and the cast (and some of the audience) are fully costumed for a night of flirty frivolity and some of PopRox’s performance best. It’s hard not to be immediately wooed by the set dressing, featuring a giant tombstone, a massive spider’s web, and a dash too much theatrical haze. All very spooky and absolutely sets the scene for what’s to come.

Our MC for tonight is Satan (Dylan Hutton) – Lucifer, or “Lucy”, as dubbed by one of the contestants later on – who opens with a dance to Meat Loaf’s You Took the Words Right Outta My Mouth; quite camp, pseudo-Rocky Horror, very fun. I note that we’re wearing the same demonic tail and equivalent amounts of body paint. The audience shrieks. It’s a hell (heh) of an opening and suddenly, we’re all in the zone.

Frankenstein (“Franko” – Mo Munn) is our eligible bachelor for tonight, and too coated in a deep layer of green body paint. We meet his potential partners; the “Yummy Mummy” (Nina Hogg) – complete with faux lip filler and an accompanying vocal fry, Dracula (Jed Davies), definitely-a-human-and-not-a-werewolf Wilma (Millie Osborne), Aragog (Lesa McLeod-Whiting) – yes, that one, and Edward Cullen (Austin Harrison), through quick Love Island-style introduction and thus, the party starts.

Through several rounds of game playing and vignettes, Franko grows closer to the contestants. A round of “Behind the Gravestone” leaves Mo guessing the audience-suggested dates, with her pick of “tandem biking” leading to a scene where Franko and Edward bike to the Chocolate Fish Cafe (rest in peace?) with several references to a certain local bike tour guide leaving some of us in the audience giggling as we’re in on the joke, and Nina’s character out of the competition at the end of the first act.

We have an interval, I do not win the costume competition and do not fall down the Hannah’s staircase in my heels; so it goes.

At the top of act two, after some fabulous Phantom dramatic music by Lia Kelly on the keys, we pick the story up several weeks later. Franko is looking for love; though has definitely found lust from a very, very horny Wilma (Millie in her delightful, feral best).

We dart through skydiving, Dracula giving a blood donation, Transformers 2, and Edward Cullen’s fascination for climate change (my notes just read ‘Austin’s banger blood drinking Fortnite emote’ which I’m sure makes sense in some universe), before we come to our second elimination and say farewell to Edward Cullen, who was just too into climate activism to be dateable.

And thus, comes arguably one of PopRox’s most memorable games: “J’Accuzzi” – where the players bring an inflatable paddling pool onto stage, strip down to their characters’ togs, and accuse (j’accuse) each other of lying/various crimes/various hijinks, pouring water over each other’s heads if they’re found guilty. Improvising, combined with the weirdness of being in costume, in a pool, in front of an audience = it’s ridiculous, potentially revealing, but somehow, it works, furthering these characters, and giving us all a good giggle.

Dracula leaves the show after basically being water-tortured (lore-wise, vampires and water, yikes), and we’re left with two contestants for the final segment of the show: the Home Visits.

This segment in particular allows us to see more ridiculous (positive) character work from the PopRox players. As in line with the lore of Aragog, the giant spider from Harry Potter, we visit Hagrid (played with a very impressive impression by Jed) and Fang (the giant hound, played by Austin). The visit goes well, for the most part, and then we find ourselves with Wilma’s mother (played by Nina), who is not keen on Wilma getting with Franko, and encourages murder for… certain reasons.

What’s Halloween if not implying certain taboos really heavily, huh?

The show concludes with Wilma and Aragog singing for Franko’s love; with Wilma winning the overall show. The delightful new (very horny) couple hug, we all celebrate, and thus, this year’s episode of PopRox’s idiosyncratic dating shows is done.

The endearing joy of PopRox is that they’re consistently great. They’re improvisers who so clearly trust each other enough to push bounds and take performative risks, and those skills are no more obvious than in a show like this one, where they’re navigating complex character relationships, games and audience work, alongside complicated costumes.

Their improv never feels stilted or lost, and despite the constant need to play for gags in a delirious Halloween audience, wherever I look on stage there’s tiny little character moments happening, and fabulous one-liners being teed up. It’s sharp, witty, and well-performed work that welcomes in those new to improv, and those of us who’ve been a thousand times.

As their sold-out seasons across the last couple of years would attest, their schtick works, and I hope it’ll continue working for a long while yet.

Firstly, what a brilliant premise for a comedy game show. Being one of those “gifted” kids, I was taken by the name from the start – the nostalgia of a school programme for unconventional thinkers that I realise now were probably all the oddballs and undiagnosed neurospicy types. Honestly, a lot of them must have ended up as comedians and improvisers on stages like this!

But being a Jim Fishwick special, the mastermind behind The Saboteur, and a competitive improv all star, there had to be more to it. And of course, there is.

Spoiler alert, there’s no epic science inventions, chess tournaments or future problem solving. But behind the facade of party tricks and mad skillz, we get to relish the art of deception. How well can the guests shimmy their way through a sham show or decipher another’s bluff? It’s like an epic version of two truths, one lie. And as a genuinely thrilling bonus, the bizarre skills of these well known performers is actually shocking – or as Austin Harrison puts it, “exhilarating”!

On opening night our guest contestants are Austin Harrison, Tara McEntee, and Lily Catastrophe, excellent performers who balance each other’s energies beautifully.

Lily Catastrophie is such an enigma; an infectious comedian who is equal parts sassy and endearing. You can never tell if Lily is grifting because she sounds sarcastic or like she’s lying about her skills every time. Then she busts out a flawless Pikachu portrait or correctly guesses a list of songs after only the first second (while squatting to help her think, which Austin points out is yet another impressive talent). She’s a bit like that player of Mafia who is constantly voted out because they can only sound suspicious. Beguiling and highly watchable, Lily uses her charms to remain firmly in the lead.

Austin Harrison is a fantastic listener, and uses this deviously to play the bully, weaponising his talent for cheeky banter. Tara McEntee is always there to call him out, making these improviser friends a brilliant comedy duo. Tara has delightful fake it till ya make it energy. She also has fabulous sideline sass, one liners and guessing strategy.

Shout out to Tara’s outburst of “scupdate?” after the MCs announce “time for the score update”, which Austin draws attention to so the MCs jump on, talking about “scups” as if it’s very serious sports commentator jargon.

The whole team’s wit and ensemble support is TIGHT, especially MCs Jim Fishwick and Malcolm Morrison, who make an adorable pair of happiness. That’s how you know the team are majority improvisers, because every juicy moment is yes-anded the hell out of. Jim, the primary host, weaves the show together effortlessly. They hold the room with playful lightness winning the audience over instantly – impressive for a Wednesday 9.45pm show!

The colour theme of orange and pink is a stunner that gives life to the late night show, with matching lighting and glitzy AV operated by Em Maguire. Shout out to Tara’s bright pink blazer to suit. I only wish the whole ensemble would join the zesty combination. The AV is very slick, with helpful infographics for the more complex rounds. Jim is a master of game theory theatre combos, and it’s a delight to witness.

Malcolm is Jim’s equally loveable co-host for the evening, who gives hilariously dry recounts during score updates but can’t keep a straight face before contestants are tasked with making him laugh. Malcolm’s trying-not-to-laugh face has the audience in stitches and Jim yelling “pull yourself together”!

At the show’s core is the thrill and satisfaction of giving things a go wholeheartedly. We never know whether the contestants will succeed,  so when they do it’s alarmingly impressive. But sharing in the joy of confident, earnest, glorious failure is an extra special treat. If we threw ourselves at daunting tasks with this much bravery in real life, maybe we’d be “future problem solving” after all.

It’s the sign of an enthralling show when my strongest desire is to be more involved in the action. Are there moments where the audience could have more participation or say? Random audience talent interludes? Jim picks up on an audience discussion (about a contestant’s balloon blowing technique), which I get to share with the room. The fun of this interaction has me wondering what else could be integrated?

However, so much of the fun is watching the action through the other player’s eyes, as they voice what the audience is thinking or highlight the hilarities we hope not to miss.

Is the show empowering niche parlour marvelors or inspiring a generation of disaster artists? Either way, this tight and fresh framing of competitive comedy is deliciously watchable and well worth staying out late for!

Grifted & Talented, presented by Jim Fishwick and guests, is on for one more night, Saturday 10 May at te Auaha, as part of NZ International Comedy Festival. Nab a ticket before the show returns to Australia for the Sydney Comedy Festival.

A Pōneke Easter Experiment.

Do not try this at home. It’s not wholly dangerous, but it is a little foolhardy. Mostly it’s just time consuming and will make your legs ache.

I’ve been scooting ever since I was a kid. I was a big fan of my push scooter when I was younger – much more so than my bike, and these days, I use Pōneke’s escooters every single day.

I’m pretty sure I’m one of the most prolific escooterers in the city – if not the most prolific. That’s based in fact, and science and stuff.

Lime emailed me one year saying “congrats, you’re part of the top 1% of scooter users in the world” which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but I had travelled 35km around Lower Hutt on an escooter in one day that year so they were probably right.

Y’all know me, I love a little quest. I’ve been thinking about this one for a while.

In 2025, I’m doing ten things to celebrate living in Pōneke for ten years. There’ll be stories. Pics. Nonsense. Check out the series here.

How far can you travel on a Flamingo escooter?

As it turns out, further than you might think.

My goal was simple: get a scooter from a drop point with a completely full battery and ride it till it died.

I had three rules:

no stopping

no more than one foot on the ground at a time if slowing/curb jumping

if my life/welfare or someone else’s life/welfare is at risk, stop immediately

That last rule in particular was for me. I’m stubborn and a masochist. I would continue through my dumbassery and injure myself – I’ve done it before. I may have possibly broken my knee in 2022 doing so during my one of four falls in seven years of riding – but we’ll never know.

I also wanted to make sure that my desire to do a quest did not overrule my desire to be mindful and careful of my scooter technique.

The thing is about escooting is that people think it’s lame (valid) and it’s easy (not correct). It’s easy to be okay at it, but it’s a lot harder to be genuinely good at it.

Not to get all arrogant here, but unlike most physical things, I’m good at it. I’ve fallen off four times in seven years of scooting essentially every day. I know how to coax scooters up tricky hills, down challenging slopes and on rough terrain.

No word of a lie, I moved house from Te Aro to Mount Cook last year carrying everything I owned except my bed and my 80L tubs on my back.

I also once scootered from Te Aro to Pukerua Bay because the trains weren’t running.*

It’s a genuinely physical experience.

It burns calories, improves your balance, core and coordination, and is fucking exhausting to do for long periods. As I type this, I desperately want a nap, because like driving, you’re in control of a vehicle, and you’re actively watching for hazards and reacting in real time whilst you do the controlling, whilst absorbing shock through your legs from the ground.

But I digress.

On Easter Sunday I ran an escooter battery down without stopping or touching the ground. Here’s how I did it.

It’s Easter Sunday. I’ve been tossing this idea around in my head since Christmas. I couldn’t do it then cause my chronic fatigue was flaring, but today I feel… passable. The concrete outside my apartment window is wet from overnight rain, but it’s not actively raining.

It’s not perfect conditions, but I’ll be fine.

I pick up a scooter from the drop zone by the Fresh Choice on Abel Smith Street. The roads aren’t super busy, but I know I’ll have to have some luck crossing things like Karo Drive and Brooklyn Road when I get to them.

I’m in luck to cross the motorway, the traffic light is green and I whizz on by. It takes a little effort and timing to get all the way to Brooklyn without stopping, but I manage. When I repeat this same trip on Tuesday night, it’s not nearly as easy. Planning. It works!

Heading down the hill into Happy Valley is no picnic, as it starts to rain again. I briefly consider abandoning the quest, but it’s a quest, rather than a fun little jaunt, so I keep going, getting absolutely drenched but having a decent time regardless.

Ōwhiro Bay’s an odd little place. They’ve been recently campaigning for better bus services (which they need). I mostly know the area from the time I walked six hours and then had to take a disused path from the mountains down into Red Rocks and had to freehand climb down bits of it (0/10 don’t recommend).

Around Ōwhiro Bay, dodging past folk running and the occasional car, I whizz on past Island Bay and straight on towards Houghton. This section is harder as there’s a lot more people about, and roadworks. There’s a bit of work site that’s currently being held up by wooden beams overhead – too high for me standing approx 5 ft 10 on an escooter – but I duck under them all and also don’t fall off at the same time! Win win win.

Bays pass by in quick succession. Princess, Waitaha, Lyall. I’m running at half empty battery-wise – surely there’s not much of my trip left?

Not so.

There’s roadworks on Stewart Duff Drive towards the airport, but fortunately it’s quiet enough that I can duck past two dogs and their owner, and make it into the airport proper. I stare, for a moment, still scootering.

Pretty sure half the golf course hadn’t been turned into a carpark when I was last here… but I’m not sure which is more of an environmental calamity.

It’s at this moment that I realise I’ve not eaten for hours and I am spinny. Quest abandoned for the moment – sue me, I’m more of a hazard if my head’s not on straight, I buy an overexpensive sandwich and continue my quest, less likely to fall off in the middle of the road.

Surely the dang scooter will conk out somewhere in Kilbirnie. Right? Right?

No.

Through the runway tunnel, and down the Kilbirnie bike path. It’s not raining anymore, and this is the easiest bit of the city to scooter, so I’m having a blast. Still haven’t fallen off yet. Yay me.

Up the hill, crossing into Newtown. The scooter’s at 1.5 battery bars left, and I’m wondering if it’ll make it, going slower and slower and slower as it goes… but it does! We slide on downhill, picking up speed, passing people coming out of Easter Sunday church services. The gods, whomever they are, are smiling on me today.

The roads are decently clear through Newtown, and down towards the Basin. I get incredibly lucky with the lights at the corner towards the tunnel, and escape onto Kent Terrace. Home stretch, right?

You’d think.

I’ve been standing for at least an hour now, and my thighs and knees are killing me. Love scootering, but no joke, it does get kind of painful when you’re not really permitted to move.

Luck with the lights a handful more times gets me to the intersection of Majoribanks and Kent Terrace. This time, I have to wait. I do little circles on the scooter as I do to keep my balance, before the lights flick green and off we go again!

Along the path, crossing at Cable Street, and then out onto the wonderful, flat stretch of concrete by Waitangi Park. I’ve totally forgotten it’s Waterfront Market day, and though I’m tempted, I do not stop. We’ve still got a bar left of battery. I can coax more out of this.

Ducking past Circa, around Whareipo Lagoon and crossing Jervois Quay by the park, I follow the Commonwealth Walkway (yes, it has a name) through the carpark, crossing Cable St again, and down through Bond Street, heading south along Lombard.

The scooter slows… ominously.

One bar remaining. A little more… surely…

One cross of Manners St, about ten metres later and the scooter slows to a halt.

I’ve done it! One full escooter battery depleted entirely, without stopping (barring y’know the health thing), falling or putting both feet on the ground at the same time.

What a rush.

I have completed my quest. What did I learn from it? Not a whole lot. Perhaps slightly better scooter control in wet weather. Definitely a lot of practise and care around obstacles. I think I’m a better escooter rider after this quest than I was beforehand.

Leaving the scooter where it is, I walk south down Victoria Street towards my home. It’s been a wild trip, but I’m pleased I made it.

Total distance scootered: 24.53km

Total time taken to scooter that distance: About an hour and a half.

I’m not affiliated with Flamingo, I just really like their scooters! I was very mindful to take utmost care when doing this quest, and only scootered at top speed when I was in completely clear people-less areas that were dry. I was also wearing a helmet and protective gear the entire time.

Don’t try this at home. 

I would also like to note that the amount an escooter battery depletes depends on what you’re doing with it. I could have done this entire quest on the flat ground and got another 5-10km out of the battery, but I think that’s fundamentally unrealistic to the nature of scootering in Pōneke.

Some other escooter highlights

– 46km trip from Auckland CBD to Rosebank and back via Mt Eden

– The one time Google Maps took me down Kio Road in Kio Bay (it has ten switchbacks)

– The one time Google Maps took me down Kaiwharewhara Bridle Track from Khandallah to the CBD in the pitch darkness and I thought I was going to die

– Having to backtrack my way back along a seriously busy road with a dodgy scooter battery cause half of Seaview is no-go zones.

– Scooting the length of the Avon River in Christchurch and then most of the way back too.

Other notes

*Aformentioned airport break.

**Excluding that tiny section of road between Glenside and Takapu Road – you can’t take escooters through there (yet).