Josh Thomson is feeling on edge.
An actor first, comedian second, he hasn't performed stand-up in three years - until now.
The 41-year-old is on tour with 7 Days Live, including a stop at Tauranga's Trustpower Baypark on June 19.
"I get bad stage fright," he confides, recalling he once "blanked" at a show, forgetting his set in front of 1500 people, before friends gestured prompts.
"This is weird, but jokes aren't really my strength," he says of not being a traditional punch-line comic.
"I don't really think of myself as a comedian, I'm just a dude."
A modest dude.
As well as a comedic improviser, he's a presenter on Three's The Project; director; writer; editor; and he has a new movie out.
He plays the role of cleaner/furniture removals guy/stripper and gigolo Ben, in Australian comedy How to Please a Woman, alongside ex-Tauranga resident Erik Thomson (Packed to the Rafters, 800 Words); and English actress Sally Phillips of Bridget Jones' Diary fame.
It was an uplifting experience, he says of the film, which is more thought-provoking than it is racy - the opposite of 7 Days Live.
The show is half stand-up, half structured format, where Thomson, host Jeremy Corbett, and comedians Paul Ego, Dai Henwood, Justine Smith, Ben Hurley and Laura Daniel, poke fun at the week's best news stories.
Despite current affairs being an integral part of the show, Thomson, who lives in Auckland with his wife Liz and two children, isn't a news junkie.
"Ever since I was a kid it was my least favourite part of the night when we'd switch over to the news.
"Even though I work in the news now, nothing's changed," he laughs. "But I at least keep track of it, that's the main thing."
Of Kiwi-Tongan descent, he grew up in Timaru and recalls being at a barbecue at age 5, mimicking parents and teachers talking about taxes and roading, which they found hilarious.
"I just repeated stuff (they were saying), then went back to my friends and said 'see, their humour is so boring'. That was the first time I understood different types of comedy because we were wanting to watch people fall over or make a fart noise. I always have, without realising it, been a performer," he says, adding the news can be heavy and sometimes you need someone to "pop the balloon and let some gas out".
The live version of 7 Days sees the comedians do a six-minute stand-up set each, followed by the panel format of the TV show, which is a "quick version" of the taping.
Normally, it takes three hours to record conversations, arguments and gags for TV, which are then edited down to an episode.
"We do it so that they can cut out the rubbish jokes and dirty stuff. The live show feels exciting and electric because you don't know what's going to happen. We'll go to some pretty strange places. You'll get seven people who come up with a comedic idea and then start biffing it around on stage."
All the comedians have different strengths, which is what also makes the show good, alongside the fact they're tight friends.
"There's a real safety net there. Sometimes we see someone go down a dodgy path and we'll correct them, but in a funny way. Pull them back from the brink. The entire thing is feeding off each other, and we're trying to find a way to get the ball going and once it is, we're all just running after it."
Seven Days celebrates its 13th birthday this year, having started with humble beginnings in an underground music venue as a low-budget spinoff from a radio show by production company The DownLow Concept.
Three commissioned the show and 7 Days took off. It's now filmed in a custom-built studio in Auckland.
Thomson joined a few years after it began, initially working behind the scenes, sometimes doing a "paper edit" picking out the best jokes.
"You've got to be really cold. It's quite awful because they're your friends."
Over the years the format hasn't changed. There's a series of set pieces, like Caption That when comics create pretend captions for strange photos, or My Kid Could Draw That, where school kids draw pictures relating to the week's biggest news articles.
After they finish taping on a Thursday, an editor works through the night to pull together an episode. It then gets fine-tuned throughout Friday and approved by a lawyer, before going to air that night.
Over recent years, New Zealanders have embraced comedians after a period of hiatus, Thomson reckons.
"There was Billy T, McPhail and Gadsby, and then there was a cultural cringe where we couldn't stand ourselves. In the 1990s our comedy was done by sportspeople who were fantastic personalities, but that was about it. If you said you were a comedian in the 90s or the early 2000s, people would hate you because of our tall poppy syndrome. To say you're funny is another way of saying that you're arrogant."
7 Days provided a training ground at its live space the Classic Comedy Club to go on to join the show's rotating cast of regulars who showed that you could make a job out of comedy.
"It became a beacon for them to aim for, train for, and to get. If you can get a few spots on 7 Days you can start to grow a profile and it's amazing to be part of something that helped shape cultural identity. It's now not arrogant to say you're a comedian," Thomson said, adding comedy is also no longer male-dominated.
If you can get a few spots on 7 Days you can start to grow a profile and it's amazing to be part of something that helped shape cultural identity. It's now not arrogant to say you're a comedian.
He believes the show's longevity is because of its refreshing topicality.
"It's at its freshest, sharpest, and strongest when you watch it live, and that way it becomes an event."
As far as a post-show ritual, Thomson says it used to be raucous but has dulled as the panellists age.
"We generally have a drink and then go to bed. Every now and then someone will have a blowout, but if you have a blowout in front of six other comedians, you better be ready the next morning to take the heat."
He rarely watches the show back, fearing he'll disagree with editing or focus too much on his appearance.
"Often I'm just looking at my hair or going 'look at that double chin'. You know when you look at a bad photo of yourself? (Well), this is 360 degrees of your head."
But for the fans - it's a belly-laugh must-watch.
"People would message me and say 'I had a rough day at work and it was cool to come home and have a glass of beer or wine with my partner, sit down and have a laugh'. Even though we're telling jokes about bums or whatever. To be part of someone's ritual of chilling out and relaxing is such a privilege."
For tickets to 7 Days Live go to ticketek.co.nz
