This is awkward. We are at BATS Studio, the small third-storey room is not half full. I am about to be told a story I know well, a story where the stereotype I belong to is the problem. And the Dad jokes! Aue, they are next level lame. He tells us about his half Australian Aboriginal cousin – Boomerangi. Buh-dum tssss! Brooking is challenging us to laugh/not laugh, giving us a long stare with a sparkle in the eyes, an awkward mix of pathos and intimidation.

Kajun Brooking was born in Hastings, within a Mormon and gang-dominated community. Now he lives in a million-dollar Whanganui property he owns, with his wāhine of twenty years’ marriage and their three tamariki.

Challenging stereotypes isn’t simple, unlike the stereotypes themselves. I have said enough already for you to understand that Brooking has broken a mould. This show helps us understand how complicated that is for all of us, especially Brooking.

He describes community-level depression. When so many people, together, are at a point where only drug dealers (legal and illegal) and strong religion show an interest in you, escape is rare. Stereotypes come from truth. Otherwise there would be no mould to break, there would be no story here.

Brooking tells us when he first came to this realisation at age seven, visiting a Pākehā friend’s house. In his words it was when he realised he was living in deprivation. This was when he lost his self-confidence, he felt shame, known in Māori as whakamā. The stereotype unfolded, later came drugs, unemployment, robbery, jail. The stereotype rooted in whakamā.

Then, somehow, even though after jail he was resisting employment and living high, he turned a corner. He was in a new environment – Whanganui. He promised his dying Nan he would not join the Mob. He got pushed into a graphic design course by a Work and Income case worker. Despite living high (on drugs), he sticks at it, wins honours. He meets his future wife, does stand-up on a dare and wins a local award. Now he is many years clean and holding down a mortgage. He has nothing to be ashamed of.

He never really tells us exactly what changed in his mind or exactly when. The implication is, it’s complicated. There probably was no one big decision that changed his way of life. There is a hint of another influence, though, when he briefly mentions how much he enjoyed the 2022 protests. He enjoyed the diversity and inclusiveness at the camp. Challenging. Hints only, Brooking is not telling us the whole story. Awkward.

The show is a painful redemption story woven into a stream of painful, pun-driven dad jokes. Some are one-liners, some are shaggy dogs. Some are so niche that I am not the only audience member not to get it. I love dad jokes, I love puns, I would like to see what else Brooking can come up with though. There are a few Tiktok videos which are the stand out comedic successes of the set, as is Brooking’s singing and brief acting bits – melodramatic though they are. He can definitely script comedy, edit, act and sing. I hope he has an agent.

The narrative is jumpy. We get switched hard between dead-serious tragedy and farce many times. I wonder if the jokes would be funnier with a different approach to telling the story. I am also half-convinced the hard juxtapositions are deliberate. Like Henry Yan last week, Brooking is leaning into the awkwardness, but in this case he is challenging both Māori and Pākehā in particular with the truths behind their respective stereotypes.

I definitely want to see how Brooking’s story continues to unfold. He escaped the ’hood and landed in middle class bliss. Now he faces the challenges of middle-class anti-climax and first-world problems, how will he cope?

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