"I once slept with a guy in the stockroom of a Harvey Norman," recalls Australian comedian Joel Creasey, as if under a deep hypnosis. Being from Perth, the guest member of Henwood's team understandably knows nothing about New Zealand current events so is instead simply remembering things about himself. "I was buying a TV and we hit it off and then we went out the back and banged."
Later in the show Labour MP Grant Robertson wheels out an office chair to sit uncomfortably in between the two teams for a round called 'Yes Minister', where he must attempt to answer a barrage of questions without using the words 'yes' or 'no'. Quite what it is that entices politicians into this type of no-win situation like moths to a carport lightbulb is an eternal mystery.
Blissfully oblivious to our political landscape, Creasey instead quizzes the opposition finance spokesperson on the one thing he does know about: himself. He asks: "Do you think I look a bit like Ellen Degeneres?" Robertson pauses for a beat before opening his mouth and replying: "... a cross between Ellen Degeneres and Caitlyn Jenner." Oh, Grant. That's awful.
That's always been the nature of the show - you've got to endure a black jellybean or two in each episode's pick'n'mix of jokes. But to the show's credit, they do seem to be becoming more of an anomaly - the laughs are increasingly outweighing the groans, and the formula has been tightened into a fast-paced, mostly entertaining half hour.
It's curious, then, that 7 Days of Sport - made by and starring so many of the same people - seems to be stuck firmly back at square one.
Absurdly, episodes are an hour long. It's possibly the longest hour in television - round after uninteresting round, huge yawning gaps between laughs. In last Tuesday's episode one segment involved Dai Henwood facing boxer 'Brown Buttabean' Dave Letele in a skipping competition; the week before that Joe Wheeler had to chuck rugby balls through a tyre. On both occasions you could have been forgiven for thinking the humble telethon had made a comeback.
The pacing of the show isn't helped by the fact that it seemingly doesn't have access to any sports footage from the last 25 years. Instead it relies way too heavily on sports 'banter', going down some ill-advised wormholes like Black Cap Jimmy Neesham's dire locker room chat about Thai prostitutes at Chris Gayle's house in the first episode.
Perhaps most inexplicable is that the show employs a rotating cast of sports personalities to sit behind the host's desk. There's no surer way to kill a joke than to make someone read it off an autocue, and you'll never appreciate the skill of 7 Days ringmaster Jeremy Corbett more than watching a professional sportsperson struggle their way through a show as if they're reading out Hamlet in sixth form English.
That the show has come out of the gates so flat and misguided is surprising, because it has some clear precedents to follow. Despite almost everybody on it being absolutely despicable, Game of Two Halves enjoyed success for almost a decade with a very similar brief.
And now, parent show 7 Days has whittled the format down to a lean and enjoyable product. But for whatever reason, 7 Days of Sport has struck out on its own, and it could be a trying wait for it to find its feet.
* What do you think of 7 Days and 7 Days of Sport? Post your comments below ...
