The 5 Star Comedy Preview 2010, SkyCity Theatre

British comedian Carey Marx. Photo / Supplied

A comic genius is a guy who can skulk onto the stage and tell a joke about not being allowed to open his hotel window and have everyone giggling and writhing. That's British comedian Carey Marx for you. His hilarious retelling of that rather mundane hotel experience was the highlights of the 5 Star Comedy Preview, the opening show of the Auckland International Comedy Festival.

Not to be mistaken for the Comedy Gala (which is on tonight), this smaller show hosted by clever Australian yobbo Wil Anderson is a chance to get a taste of some of the big name international acts performing at the festival. Three of them - Tom Wrigglesworth, Miles Jupp and Jarlath Regan - didn't make it in time because of the Iceland volcano so Geordie comic and three-time Auckland visitor Jason Cook stepped in as a replacement.

Host Anderson is another festival returnee. While his masturbation jokes scrape the bottom of the barrel there's no denying the brilliance of his notion that if women were in charge of finding weapons of mass destruction they'd find them easily: "They're right where you left them ... along with your undies and the remote."

Marx is also back after being the hit of last year's festival - and you can see why. He looks likes he's drunk, and with his cheeky nasally mumble he sounds like he's drunk, but he's got a devilish glint in his eye (when they open wide enough to see it) and the guy is sharp.

First up though was the likeable and friendly Cook. These days he looks a little more portly and has cut off his long dank locks, but he's still flying off on effortless tangents while exploring everything from his fear of Bats to how he loves intrepid Kiwi travellers ("You're like thrush, you get around.")

Chris Cox, the cocky young Brit billed as the mind reader who can't read minds, was up against it because his show doesn't suit the quick fire of a preview show. As well as muttering "tough crowd" a few times, he spent most of his slot selecting which audience member he was going to get up on stage.

The find of the show - and one to see at the festival - was Terry Alderton, a madcap sound effects, accents and impressions extraordinaire. He can moonwalk like Michael Jackson, yabber away to dat rap-jungle music like Dizzee Rascal, and does a pretty good imitation of a young, headphone-wearing bad-arse on the London tube who was "singing at me like a livestock auctioneer".

Then came "metal head" Andrew O'Neill - who was dressed in black with long thick black hair - whose random outbursts of song and wisdom ("Oh house brick where would we be without you? Outside.") took some adjusting to. But eventually his kooky metal charm sinks in, especially after recounting how his long hair scared him like a sea monster when he was snorkelling in Australia.

But the star of the show was Marx whose formula is simple. He's up there telling funny stories about things like his beef with a Jehovah Witness, and why he hates being told off all the time. But it's where he takes these simple situations and subjects that makes it inspired and mischievous comedy. A must see.