Joe Daymond’s 2026 Comedy Mixtape review: Pacific rising stars, crowd chaos and comedy heavy hitters

Last weekend, I sat in Auckland’s Q Theatre laughing my ass off, trying to top up my weekly dose of endorphins, and Joe Daymond’s Comedy Mixtape is still replaying in my head. If the goal of the 2026 mixtape was to leave audiences gasping for air between laughs, it delivered again after last year's mixtape.

Fast, loud and stacked with talent, Daymond’s handpicked line-up felt less like a comedy show and more like a playlist of bangers, with each comedian bringing a completely different energy.

Daymond’s role extended beyond being the host. Between acts, he and Randy Sjafrie turned transition periods into part of the entertainment. With Sjafrie on the decks controlling the mood, Daymond worked the crowd, pulling unsuspecting audience members into conversation, from New World and Pak’nSave employees to tourists visiting Aotearoa for the first time.

A group from Tennessee in the USA, who had landed in New Zealand that same day, became part of the show’s banter after Daymond asked where they should visit while in Auckland.

The crowd’s response was South Auckland (humour at its finest). Forget the Sky Tower or Waiheke, audience members were throwing out places like Ōtara and Manurewa as must-see destinations. Someone even threw Timaru and Stewart Island into the mix.

Daymond, riffing off Sjafrie, made the breaks feel less like downtime and more like another act entirely, keeping the room warm before the next comedian took the stage. Daymond also dipped briefly into more vulnerable territory, joking about masculinity, mental health and when men actually talk about depression. Of course, those moments quickly swung back into absurdity, including how much money it would take to perform questionable acts. Daymond’s answer: $1.5 million.

Promotional artwork for Joe Daymond’s Comedy Mixtape 2026 at Q Theatre. Photo/NZ Comedy Festival Instagram

Richie Fa’avesi remained exactly what audiences have come to expect: loud, filthy and unapologetically himself. His stories about relationships and bedroom antics spiralled into increasingly outrageous territory. The humour was crude, but deliberate, and the crowd loved every second of it.

Jonjon brought sass and chaos in the best way possible. Declaring her taste in Tongan men and teasing stories from her own material, she left the audience wanting more.

Then came an unexpected flash from Angela Dravid. Not advertised on the line-up, Dravid walked on, dropped a brutally awkward observation about assumptions people make about fat women, had the crowd simultaneously shocked and crying with laughter, then disappeared almost as quickly as she arrived. A comedy drive-by.

Ama opened with South Auckland pride, proudly repping Māngere and joking about where the lazy hoes still meet today. Equal parts cheeky and charming, she leaned into family dynamics, relationships and local humour, even pulling black rubbish bags into her set in a funeral-related joke that landed with the crowd.

Tesi Naufahu made one thing clear immediately: he had absolutely no involvement with Jonjon despite whatever rumours the audience had invented. The Tongan comic leaned into masculinity, dating and perceptions of toughness, comparing gang culture overseas to New Zealand in a way that was both uncomfortable and hilarious.

Uce Gang brought physical comedy with his Michael Jackson dance moves before pivoting into stories about his weight loss journey. He told the audience he’d lost 4kg from walking. The twist? The 4kg was his dog.

Closing the show was Bubbah, who managed to command attention even after time had technically run out. There was an audible disappointment when she told the audience she was “sad they cut my set”, still pushing time limits right to the end. By then, the audience was eating out of the palm of her hand because, well, it’s Bubbah, and audiences have missed her since moving to Samoa.

A mic-drop moment, comedian Bubbah announces her pregnancy to the audience while wrapping up her set at Joe Daymond’s Comedy Mixtape 2026. Photo/PMN News/Taelegaolo'u Mary Afemata

Wrapping up the night, Bubbah asked Daymond to read a note to the audience: “Bubbah is pregnant.” The room erupted. A mic-drop moment and a wholesome way to end the show. Aww, Tina from Turners is having her own little bubbah. Time ran out, and somehow it still went too fast.

This was my second Comedy Mixtape, and what stands out each time is Daymond’s ability to curate a line-up that reflects what is actually happening in New Zealand comedy right now. Established names, rising acts, Pacific humour, awkward observations, family stories and chaos all squeezed into one night.

If this is Daymond’s playlist of the best of the festival, I’ll keep pressing play.

Rating: 4.5/5
Loud, messy, heartfelt and unmistakably Kiwi.