Honestly, I was nervous. In the past when New Zealand has attempted to make Kiwi versions of big TV shows from overseas, the mere hint of the show's promotion has made my stomach churn.
Seeing Rose Matafeo - someone I have admired from a distance playing her part as eye-roller-at-lame-jokes on Jono and Ben - and her lady pals pulling faces in Funny Girls' promo shots, I didn't expect much. I knew it was a sketch show, but their dumbfounded expressions paired with the show's name made me imagine some kind of New Zealand version of Girls. Maybe Matafeo would be our Lena Dunham, and Kimberly Crossman would be Adam's sister with the admirable eyebrows who almost gives birth in a bathtub.
Were we going to laugh out of pity at our comediennes, like we laugh at the sad excuse for talent on X Factor?
No, because Funny Girls is brilliant, not just because it's funny and has girls in it.
Funny Girls works in two parts. Matafeo is highly entertaining as she works to front an all-female sketch show while battling a large group of interfering bros in suits with bad ideas in a sort of "behind-the-scenes" narrative. Separately, she, Laura Daniel and co take part in clever sketches and their comedic timing is pretty much on point.
Worth a mention are Joseph Moore, who I am always glad to see, and Jackie van Beek, who plays the show's producer, Pauline. Hired by the bros in suits "as a joke" she has no experience in television but Pauline's enthusiasm for Tit Time's (let's call it a working title) potential merchandise is nothing short of infectious.
The meta-show format is a success, tying together witty observations about a media patriarchy and embracing the role of a social commentary without shoving anything down our throats.
The show's first episode is meticulously constructed and well-written, with a distinct New Zealand dryness that is instantly relatable.
When I say well-written I mean the Funny Girls sketches have a pretty high hit rate - which is what you want from a sketch comedy show - but it had some misses. I don't want to know about the bland girls who say "That's annoying," about their shitty boyfriends. And then there were the others with so much junk in their handbags they can't find pens. The show was travelling just fine, it didn't need to fall back on stereotypes and pettiness.
I do want to know about everything else, though, especially Big Dee (a cameo by Urzila Carlson) who is accused of dabbling in performance enhancing crystals to strengthen her chakras at a yoga class full of ladies who take themselves more seriously than Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson when he did WWE.
If I had a dollar for the number of times I have wanted to throw a coffee cup at an idiot in a suit, I would be a very rich lady. Watching Matafeo doing it on television for all the world to see, was infinitely more satisfying than I ever imagined.
It might sound strange, Rose and your writers, but I think we're meant to be best friends.