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Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

Pop CultureJanuary 15, 2024

Our people today: The evolution of New Zealand’s 7pm current affairs shows

Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

Summer reissue: Following the news that The Project NZ was coming to an end, Alex Casey looked back at the fascinating history of 7pm current affairs shows in Aotearoa.

First published on November 1, 2023.

It may seem like a modern idea, but we’ve been craving a delicious chaser to follow the shot that is the daily news bulletin before a man even walked on the moon. As early as 1965, we were experimenting with ways to make the news more palatable, beginning with nightly current affairs show called Town and Around. Airing at 7.50pm (when!) after The News at 7.33pm (what!), the regional magazine series had location-specific presenters and stories which serviced Wellington, Auckland, Christchurch and Dunedin (where!). 

As Robert Boyd-Bell wrote in New Zealand Television: The First 25 Years, Town and Around was “free from the more rigid structure of the news bulletin, able to do much more free wheeling in its approach to issues and personalities.” Sound familiar? What if I told you that the show included everything from “slapstick, to parish pump, to the occasional studio confrontation”? Or that its most famous episode included a joke story about a turkey wearing gumboots? How much has really changed?

Town and Around in the 60s would pave the way for a veritable buffet of current affairs shows in the 70s and 80s (including Top Half, The Mainland Touch, The South Tonight, Today Tonight and… Tonight), before a crooner named Paul Holmes heralded the modern era of personality-led, headline-grabbing 7pm current affairs. Following the recent news that Three’s 7pm show The Project NZ is set to be axed by the end of the year, it seems like an appropriate time to look back at how the genre has evolved – and how it’s stayed the same. 

Holmes (TV One, 1989-2004)

Paul Holmes was the first but certainly not the last 7pm host who was already notorious for his opinionated and provocative breakfast radio slot. The very first episode of Holmes, in April 1989, included a now infamous interview with America’s Cup skipper Dennis Conner, who was in town to promote a board game. Holmes quickly honed in on the recent Cup loss (“did you cry?”) before turning to Conner’s poor sportsmanship and playing a clip where Conner called New Zealand yacht designer Bruce Farr “full of shit”. 



Conner took his leave from the interview early, telling the host “I have to run now”, picking up his briefcase and swiftly storming out of the studio. This moment would join a litany of other unforgettable interviews from Holmes’ 15 year reign, including the Ingham Twins, the Ingham Twins again, and when he got a bollocking from celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay. In 2003 Paul Holmes came under fire for calling UN secretary-general Kofi Annan a “cheeky darkie” on his radio show, causing public outcry that led to key sponsors fleeing the Holmes show. The final episode of Holmes aired less than a year later in 2004. 

Close Up (TV One, 2004-2012)

Replacing Holmes was Close Up, fronted by Susan Wood and Mark Sainsbury. Promising a view of “New Zealand, close up”, the nightly current affairs show was a classic mix of hard hitting news and lifestyle stories. A promo from 2005 features a terrific one-two punch: a special investigation into the Ron Jorgensen mystery (“He was declared dead… but is he still alive?”) promptly followed by John Cleese winking suggestively on a bed beside Susan Wood. The show took an even more shocking turn in 2010, when an ancient curse left host Mark Sainsbury trapped inside a muppet.

Towards the end of 2012, it was revealed that Close Up would be no more. TVNZ’s Ross Dagan said the decision was a proactive response to feedback that viewers were looking for something fresh and different in early evening current affairs. Bill Ralston criticised the move, saying that scrapping Close Up would be “a disaster” and that would likely be replaced by something lighter and “more like Breakfast.” Host Mark Sainsbury was slightly less maudlin about the news on Twitter: “Picked a bad week to give up smoking!” he posted from his @SAINSO account. 

Paul Holmes (Prime, 2005-2006) 

After leaving TVNZ for Prime, the first episode of the inventively-named Paul Holmes premiered in February 2005 on with a Seussian-style tongue twister. “It was One Tree Hill and then it was None Tree Hill and yesterday it was One Tree Hill again, briefly, and then today None Tree Hill again. Well, now it’s One beautiful Tree Hill again, because I planted a tree up there today.” Later on, Brian Tamaki gets roasted by a caller named Miri for wearing designer clothes instead of putting the money towards his parish. “Can’t a man of god be spunky?” mused Holmes. 

Despite securing a exclusive and extremely long interview with Cher in 2005, Paul Holmes received “poor early reviews” and failed to bring in the numbers to Prime. After just six months it was announced that it would be axed entirely. “While we were unable to change viewing habits to the extent we would have liked, we are very proud of the programme and its achievements,” Prime chief executive Chris Taylor said at the time. Paul Holmes would go on to host a short-lived weekly chat show on Prime, before devoting some much-needed time to his Paso Doble.

Campbell Live (TV3, 2005-2014) 

Three’s Campbell Live began in March 2005 and quickly became known for its emotive advocacy journalism and the general marvellousness and mischief of host John Campbell (who opened the very first episode by saying “G’day youse fellas”). “Ever since Little Paul got the humpty and went to Prime, the battle for the all-important 7pm slot has been heating up,” reviewer Gordon Brown wrote at the time. “Nowadays current affairs on television has to do more than inform. It also has to entertain. Campbell Live manages that quite nicely.”




Whether it was the extensive coverage of the Christchurch quakes, lunchboxes in low decile schools or teaching rescue dogs how to drive, Campbell Live told New Zealand stories at 7pm for over a decade. In May 2015, after a six week review of Campbell Live which saw ratings soar and a passionate public campaign reach over 80,000 signatures, Mediaworks announced that the show would be ending and John Campbell would be leaving TV3. Hilary Barry cried on the news, tributes flowed, and the final episode was the highest rating in the show’s history.

Seven Sharp 1.0 (TV One, 2013-2014) 

Replacing Close Up on TVNZ came Seven Sharp, originally fronted by Jessie Mulligan, Ali Mau and Greg Boyed. Encouraging a much more conversational, interactive and youthful tone than its predecessor, Seven Sharp wholeheartedly embraced platforms like Twitter and Facebook, much to some viewers’ chagrin. “Viewers don’t need social media foisted on them during every transition,” a reviewer wrote at the time. “If you ain’t got an iPad don’t bother tuning in,” wrote another. Rewatching the first episode earlier this year, our own Stewart Sowman-Lund admitted the social media integration was “janky” at best. 

Within just weeks of the premiere, Campbell Live began to beat Seven Sharp in the ratings, heralding the first time in history that TV3 had ever been ahead of TVNZ in the 7pm time slot since the channel began in 1989. Reports of crisis meetings at TVNZ began to emerge, with host Ali Mau later revealing she learned of her pending dumping through media reports. The Seven Sharp 1.0 hosting trio was disbanded towards the end of 2013, and the show prepared to enter a new era the following year. 

Seven Sharp 2.0 (TV One, 2014-2017)

Seven Sharp returned in January 2014 with Mike Hosking, Toni Street and Jesse Mulligan at the helm – Mulligan would later describe an “awkward” third wheel dynamic that eventually saw him leave the show after a few months. Duo Hosking and Street would host the show for the next four years, with memorable moments including Mike Hosking’s crestfallen face after the 2017 election, Mike Hosking trying on a Chewbacca mask and Toni Street trying to get a word in.

In their second to last episode for the year in 2017, it was announced that both Street and Hosking would be leaving Seven Sharp imminently. “We’re off, we’re done, we’re finishing. Tomorrow night it is over,” Hosking casually revealed. “These are long hours and hard days. And so we thought, what better thing can you possibly do than call it a day and go out on a high.” The next day, he would be crying while holding a Sol3 Mio Christmas CD.

Story (TV3, 2015-2016)

Replacing Campbell Live on TV3 and attempting to vanquish the might of Hosking and his Chewbacca mask came Story in 2015. Hosted by Heather du Plessis-Allan and Duncan Garner, the series was touted as a smart, fun and thought-provoking show that will lead the way in daily current affairs. The first episode featured iPads, du Plessis-Allan door stopping real estate agents, Garner speaking to whistleblowers from a security company, and a video of a bullet being shot underwater. 

Reviewing the first episode, Duncan Greive noted “instantly we’re a world away from the set-bound lectures of Seven Sharp. Our hosts are out in the community, getting ordered off properties. And getting scalps.” Other notable moments included cutting an ‘uncuttable’ ankle bracelet live on air, and when du Plessis-Allan bought a gun. Despite receiving praise for “agenda-setting journalism”, the series was axed at the end of 2016.

Seven Sharp 3.0 (TVNZ1, 2018-present)

Before Hosking had even been able to use his Sol3 Mio CD to dry his eyes, Hilary Barry and former Hosking impersonator Jeremy Wells were announced as the news hosts of the TVNZ mainstay. The pair debuted on Seven Sharp in February 2018 and received mixed reviews – fellow broadcaster Dom Harvey said that Wells was “wooden” and former newsreader Jennie Goodwin was put off by Barry’s top blending into the background. 

This was far from the last time Barry would be criticised for her wardrobe. Aside from bare shoulders, other “scandals” include the grotesque Jacinda Ardern lolly cake made by comedian Laura Daniel and the time that Anika Moa clapped back at viewers that didn’t like her tattoos. Wells and Barry celebrated 1000 episodes together last year by rewatching the very first episode, and revealing that they are secretly a couple of old cockroaches

The Project NZ (Three, 2017-2023)

Announcing itself with an unforgettable La La Land-inspired musical number, complete with Josh Thomson doing a backflip and a dubstep dance break, The Project NZ premiered on Three in February 2017. A local iteration of the hugely successful Australian format, The Project NZ promised an “informative and very funny half-hour mix of the stories that matter from New Zealand and around the world” and would feature hosts Kanoa Lloyd, Jesse Mulligan and Josh Thomson joined by rotating line-up of comedians, journalists and TV personalities. 

Since then, The Project NZ has delivered moments including as Kanoa Lloyd wiping off her makeup live on air following a story about beauty standards, an entire episode delivered in te reo Māori and the inimitable “come box” blunder. On October 26, 2023, it was announced that The Project NZ will be axed by the end of the year. “Audience behaviour has changed dramatically” said Sarah Bristow, head of news for Newshub, “We will design a redefined news show in the 7pm timeslot as part of the broader Newshub proposition.”

After taking a night off to process the news, The Project NZ returned with a message for its audience last Friday. “We still have plenty more great shows to come before the end of the year,” said Mulligan. “And then stay tuned for my Onlyfans.”

‘Help keep The Spinoff funny, smart, tall and handsome – become a member today.’
Gabi Lardies
— Staff writer
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A stressed out adult. Image: Whitebait Media (additional design by Archi Banal)
A stressed out adult. Image: Whitebait Media (additional design by Archi Banal)

Pop CultureJanuary 13, 2024

I went on a kids’ quiz show and it was a deeply humbling experience

A stressed out adult. Image: Whitebait Media (additional design by Archi Banal)
A stressed out adult. Image: Whitebait Media (additional design by Archi Banal)

Summer reissue: Alex Casey spends a day getting owned on the set of TVNZ’s Brain Busters, the longest-running kids’ game show in Aotearoa. Warning: includes video. 

First published on July 8, 2023.

Sweat is dripping down my neck and my turtleneck has cut off the blood supply to my head. My flyaways are standing to attention, just like everyone else in the studio, waiting to hear what the hell is going to come out of my mouth next. Hours, days, years seem to pass as I stare at Brain Busters host Chris Kirk and he stares back, pityingly. This was just supposed to be a simple warm-up question: where would you wear a mouthguard?

Where would you wear a mouthguard? A monkey is crashing cymbals behind my eyes. Where, on god’s greenest earth, would you wear a mouthguard? You’ve got your mouthguard, so where would you be wearing it? The bright lights sear a hole into my already empty skull. “The… field?!!??!?!” I plead, sticking the landing with the highest terminal rise ever uttered from Cape Reinga to Bluff. My podium flushes red, along with my face, as the universal noise for WRONG rings throughout the Brain Busters area.

“The mouth,” Chris replies gently. “You would wear a mouthguard in your mouth.” 

Mouthguard panic ensues. (Photo: Whitebait Media)

I’ve never been great at quizzes. I don’t like the tension, I don’t like the creeping doubt, I don’t like the puffed chests of those who bring Mr Spock energy. I’m also bad under pressure, and the only fact I know with total confidence is that Glorafilia by Zed was named after the guitarist’s Mum’s needlepoint book. At the last pub quiz I went to, my main contribution was knowing the two colours of Freddy Kruger’s jumper, and even then I changed my mind at the last minute from “red and green” to “red and brown” and lost us the point anyway. I haven’t slept since. 

With all of this neurosis in mind, I am about the single worst person you could recruit to go on a quiz show. And yet, there I was on the set of Brain Busters, New Zealand’s most successful and longest running kids’ game show. Airing weekdays on TVNZ2 since 2020, the series takes our country’s brightest young minds through a series of mental and physical challenges to win up to $750 cash. Part Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, part Mastermind and part Ninja Warrior, Brain Busters has already given away $250,000 to over 2,400 New Zealand kids over three years.

For this 31-year-old, my first test of intelligence begins before I’ve even set foot inside the studio. It’s clearly a busy day in the concrete industrial Christchurch suburb of Middleton, and I can only find two free car parks near the Whitebait studio. One is a 24/7 towaway outside an empty-looking nearby cafe, the other is a beautiful tree lined space right outside the Whitebait entryway. The catch? It is founder Jason Gunn’s carpark. It’s a money or the bag situation: risk getting towed, or risk angering a national treasure? A patriot, I take the towaway risk. 

“Good choice,” says producer Reuben Davidson at the door. “Plus, it will be good for the story if you get towed.” These bastards are messing with me already. As we walk through the hallowed halls of Whitebait, Jason “Farty” Fa’afoi and co smiling down upon us, Davidson tells me about the genesis of Brain Busters, first conceived as a kids’ version of The Chase for TVNZ. Hiring some top secret quiz experts to consult (Davidson wouldn’t tell me who, despite repeated requests), they came up with an original format that consists of four distinct rounds. 

The quickfire Mega Memory round is harder than it looks. Image: Whitebait Media

The quiz questions for the first Mega Memory round are written by a panel of 10 teachers and are designed to be closely aligned with the curriculum. I think back to what I learned in year nine, and all my brain comes back with is a rudimentary recipe for hokey pokey from science class, and a reminder that one of the smartest year nines at my school now works at Microsoft. Every question must have at least two supporting resources to prove they are factually correct. “One comedian suggested we just google the questions on the way in to work,” laughs Davidson. “It’s a little more complex than that.”

Every morning before a Brain Busters shoot, the production team meets to comb through the entire list of quiz questions for the day – each one has to be read at least five times. Every set of questions is then sorted and filed away in a hard black plastic case, the sort of case a bomb might be hidden inside in an action film, and then lined up behind a curtain in the studio. “This is serious business,” I remark, gingerly stepping past the question cases as if they might actually explode. Davidson stops in his tracks and turns back to me. “This is a serious show.” 

It may take quizzing seriously, but Brain Busters isn’t interested in cutting anyone down. “This is not The Weakest Link,” Davidson explains. “The kaupapa is that every player has to leave a little taller than when they arrived.” Watching host Chris Hirk banter gently with the competitors about their hobbies – including one kid who built a functioning robot arm on his own??? – I can only hope that kindness is afforded to dim journalists who still don’t know, even after having it explained to them by a patient friend with a Powerpoint presentation, how tides work.

In a small saving grace, many adults have braved the Brain Busters studio before me and many have performed abysmally. A special celebrity season saw the likes of Simon Bridges, Chlöe Swarbrick and Anita Wigl’it battle it out in the arena, and led to such humiliations as Bridges wrongly asserting that the next colour after red in the rainbow is yellow, and that you can order a deep-fried pineapple ring at Burger King. “We had to give all of them easier questions than we would normally ask our kids,” Davidson laughs. 

Quizzing with the Stars. (Photo: TVNZ)

Wigl’it took out the whole thing, even acing the Ninja-Warrior style obstacle course in full drag. If she can do this, basically backwards and in heels, then surely I’ll be fine?

Any encouraging self-talk was soon pulverised as I watch the Mega Memory quickfire round get underway from the sidelines and realise all these kids are buzzing in within milliseconds. How far from the tryline is halfway in league? In what game would you find “the aether”?? How many s’s are in Mississippi??? I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW MANY S’S ARE IN MY OWN NAME. I am sweating profusely already, the decision to wear a tight black turtleneck to evoke smart woman Elizabeth Holmes was a mistake. Maybe I could go check on my car and just… leave? 

After Mega Memory comes a specialist round, where the remaining kids can choose from a range of categories. Before each kid approaches, a man in black has to run in and manually install the podium for them. “We used to have a hydraulic plinth, but it had to be removed,” Davidson explains quietly. One of the mystery quiz experts kept a spreadsheet with a column dedicated solely to how much time was spent per day watching the hydraulic plinth rise and fall. “It looked cool, but it was just too slow,” sighs Davidson. 

‘Like a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, each member is vital to the whole picture. Join today.’
Calum Henderson
— Production editor

The plinth round wraps up, which means it is now my time to shine. And when I say shine, I mean literally. I can feel sweat dripping down my back and beading on my forehead. “I want a no-prisoners approach from you,” Chris quips as I wobble my way towards the bright lights. “Anything under 100 I will consider a fail.” The three kids I’m facing – Tinka, Heaven and Xander – introduce themselves. They’ve all done Brain Busters before, and have two key pieces of advice for me. Don’t fall off the stage, and keep your hands on the buzzer. 

With their wisdom ringing in my ears, I take a few steps onto the set and nearly fall into one of the gaps between the pods. Once at my station, the lovely floor manager immediately rushes over with some powder for my shiny face, and then back again with some hairspray for my frazzled flyaways. “I grew them myself,” I bark, unable to modulate my voice. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, and get to know my competitors. Tinka, to my right, won her episode. Heaven, on my left, came very close, and is presumably now out for blood. 

The sweat is real. (Photo: Whitebait Media)

Soon enough is the warm-up round and mouthguard-gate, where I find myself demanding that they take the decision upstairs. It’s technically correct, you could wear a mouthguard on the field, the court, the ice rink, no??? Somebody do something, somebody call someone! Everyone ignores my outraged yelps and move onto the next question, almost as if engaging with a beet-red 31-year-old, on the cusp of passing out in a too-tight turtleneck while arguing about semantics in a practice round for a children’s quiz show, is embarrassing. 

Next, we are into the proper round. No time to dwell on my past mistakes, time to bite down on my invisible mouthguard of knowledge in my MOUTH and leave it all on the FIELD. Chris records his normal introduction to the studio and the contestants. Tinka says it’s very cool to be back and she’s feeling “way more confident than last time.” Heaven says she is aiming for at least 100 points. Xander is planning on answering the questions even faster this time. All I can gurgle is that I am “hot and stressed” and something about media studies. 

I wipe my hands on my jeans one last time as things get underway, and immediately I am left in the dust again by Heaven, who is so composed that I am beginning to think she might actually be channeling the divine. Are cheetahs fast or slow? Fast. What lyric comes next in this waiata ‘Tutira Mai Nga–’. Iwi. Waitangi Day is on the sixth of which–? February. I can’t get a single point on the board and am leaning over my podium, hysterical. Nothing will prepare you for the stress and difficulty of listening to a question and pressing a buzzer at the same time. 

We are a third of the way through the 90-second round and I’m terrified I won’t get the chance to answer a single question, humiliating my entire network of friends and family, bringing The Spinoff into disrepute and having my degree rescinded and shredded by the University of Auckland. “True or false, bananas grow underground,” Chris asks as I whack the buzzer with the might of a mouthguard-wearing prop. “What was the question?” I beg. “I need an answer please,” says Chris. “No, they don’t!!” I shriek. “True or false,” presses Chris. 

“FALSE,” I bellow loud enough to awaken even the deepest underground banana. “Correct, you’re on the board.” From there, I get too high on my own supply and let my guard down, and of course Heaven sweeps back in with a run of phenomenal millisecond responses. All is not lost though: in the final seconds I manage to scrape back a few points by asserting that Elmo is red, and that there are 10 pins in tenpin bowling. Although enough to earn me a spot in Mensa, it’s not enough to give me the win. Heaven is ahead with 90, and I am left for dead on 40. 

Next up in my journey is the Brain Buster obstacle course, an enormous Ninja Warrior-style steel apparatus. We are kitted out in harnesses and helmets and a crew member takes us through safety protocols. Heaven, my greatest ally and worst enemy, can tell that I’m nervous. “Don’t worry, it’s really technical,” she whispers. The group of kids rush excitedly from station to station, while I hobble behind to keep up. “Everyone be careful of Alex!” Heaven tells the group. I’ve never felt both so taken care of, and so much like a crumbly old Cruskit, in my entire life. 

Me and Heaven in obstacle hell. (Photo: Whitebait Media)

As the crew members explain some complicated DNA ladder that involves a series of switches, Heaven whispers some more advice. “Don’t forget to breathe,” she says. “If you forget to breathe, your hands will shake and your eyes will go blurry.” I look up the clattering trap doors above, the zipline across the studio, the webbed tunnel of doom. A crew member asks me about my T-shirt – a metal-inspired Gandalf T-shirt – and laughs that I will certainly need magic on my side. Pray for me Heaven, because I am going to need a miracle here. 

As we get clipped into the zipline, she leans over and gives me one final piece of wisdom. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s actually really scary.” 

With that, we are off. I shriek as we careen down the zipline to our first destination, shedding my harness swiftly but also double-checking I didn’t shed my leggings with it. Down a pole we go – probably not the time to show off my pole fitness moves – and then off to plod along some hexagonal steps. “Alex taking her time there…” commentator and Black Fern Tyla Nathan-Wong would later observe. Heaven is already so far in front of me as I scurry around, scared, looking for the keypad that will release a terrifying trapdoor to lead me to the next part of the course. 

It’s when I start slithering through a long, clear tube laced with a thick web of elastic string that I suddenly realise how exhausted I am. I’ve already done a zipline, Magic Mike’d off a harness, slid down a pole and scaled a wall, perhaps this is the perfect time for a kip? As my giant helmeted head fails to find a path through the web, I simply lie there for a moment, laughing hysterically. Gandalf was right, I shall not pass. “Slight hesitation and great facials there Alex,” Nathan-Wong encourages in her commentary. “Keep it up!” 

Heaven has nearly finished the course when I finally free myself from the webbing. As I wobble across some suspended steps, I yell out in a voice I do not recognise, uttering a phrase better suited to the trenches in a war movie than some idiot in a bright orange helmet and a Gandalf T-shirt on a children’s TV show. “Heaven, no!” I howl. “Heaven, wait for me.” She’s already at the finish line when I finally descend the DNA ladder after switching some switches in the right order, now needing to do a series of army crawls to get through the final obstacles. 

At the last hurdle, I can’t go on anymore. I throw one arm out and mouth “help me, Heaven” and she, 12, pulls me, 31, through to the final podium. “You showed her up a bit on the Brain Buster there,” Chris says to Heaven in her post-match interview. “I thought we talked about taking it easy?” “Sorry,” she smiles. At this point in the day, I have nothing but love and light for my fellow competitor, she who destroyed me by quickly asserting that a cheetah is fast, she who protected my geriatric frame from the unruly kids, she who pulled me through to the bitter end. 

Me and Heaven made it through hell. (Photo: Whitebait Media)

Before my time on Brain Busters is up, I’m invited to watch the final round for another episode: the almighty Amygdala. It’s reminiscent of a Who Wants to Be a Millionaire setup, where the final contestant left standing has to answer 10 questions, winning more money with every correct answer. If you get all 10 right, the prize money doubles to a whopping $750 – about a billion kid dollars. I sit in the darkness, aghast, as a clever wee dot takes the jackpot with ease, even getting doused in confetti and confessing that she will use the prize money to buy a dog. 

With that, the confetti was swept up and it was onto the next episode. I stumbled out of the studio and back into the carpark, truly stunned by what intense and thrilling experience I have just been through. Where else could you learn where to find an aether, the number of s’s in Mississippi, and the correct location to wear a mouthguard? Where else could you climb a DNA ladder, get stuck in a webbed tunnel and watch kids win extortionate amounts of money? More importantly, where else would you find a guardian angel in a 12-year-old named Heaven?

I didn’t win Brain Busters, but at least my car was still in the carpark. “Oh yeah,” Davidson adds, delivering one more gentle blow as we say goodbye. “Jason is actually in Australia right now so you would have been fine to park there.” Consider my brain well and truly busted.

Watch Brain Busters at 3.40pm weekdays on TVNZ2, or here on TVNZ+

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