Mike King

Mike King operated on stage with the energy of a guy who might throw a punch if you looked at him wrong. He wore black jeans, black boots, a leather jacket, and dark sunglasses. He paced constantly, cigarette in hand, delivering punchlines on a strict rhythm. He treated standup like a metronome, building an idea and expecting a laugh every thirty seconds. He didn’t really ask for those laughs so much as demand them.

For a decade spanning the late nineties and early two-thousands, he was the most visible comic in New Zealand. If a local television show needed a standup, they booked him. He anchored the scene, hosting the standup showcase Pulp Comedy and packing large rooms across the country. He was the local act who proved you could make an actual living holding a microphone in Auckland.

His material was intentionally abrasive. He gave crowds a loud, fast breakdown of working-class life, sports, and bad behavior. The jokes were blunt and provocative, delivered by a persona built entirely on attitude. He knew exactly how to play the bad boy, using sheer volume and constant movement to push right through any quiet spots in the room.

He has since walked away from standup entirely. He works full-time as a mental health advocate, speaking plainly about his own past battles with addiction and depression. It makes for a sharp contrast: the guy who once built an act out of refusing to show weakness now spends his time asking people to do exactly that.