“I watched the news, but I think I’m at the age now to know not to believe everything. I have friends out here that have been very happy with their lives, and I’m glad that I made the choice to come and perform.”

And what he found on ground only reinforced that decision.

“The shows have been full, and the audience have been very receptive,” he adds.

In moments when the world feels divided or uncertain, people still show up for comedy, for connection, for a shared laugh in a dark room. And Collins understands exactly what that means.

“They’re trying to escape what’s happening out there… you want to let people go home feeling better about life,” he says.

That philosophy defines both his stage presence and his personality. He isn’t interested in tearing people down or pushing boundaries just to get a reaction. If anything, he’s far more thoughtful about the people sitting in front of him.

“You don’t know what’s going on with the person in the audience… that could be the only reason to escape their life,” he explains.

It’s his empathetic and grounded perspective that feels increasingly rare among comedians.

That’s not to say he avoids difficult topics. Collins is candid about navigating today’s hyper-sensitive cultural landscape, where a joke can easily be taken the wrong way.

“Wokeness has a good side… but then I also think that people have become a bit too sensitive, where you’re almost preventing yourself from having fun,” he says.

But even here, there’s no bitterness. No rant. Just observation — and a clear intent to keep the room together rather than divide it.

That instinct serves him well in Dubai, a city where audiences are as diverse as they come.

“The thing about being out here is that there are nationalities from everywhere… you feel like you’re performing to the world,” he says.

And yet, what seems to have left the biggest impression on him isn’t the diversity or even the crowds, it’s the sense of safety in Dubai.

“The amount of phones I’ve seen laying around on tables… sometimes I feel like robbing somebody because I’m like, you guys are taking advantage,” he jokes.

It’s a throwaway line, but it lands because it comes from a place of genuine surprise. For Collins, that everyday security feels almost surreal, a stark contrast to what many in other parts of the world experience.

Off stage, he’s just as disarmingly honest. Ask him what he loves most about touring, and he doesn’t give you a grand answer about sold-out arenas or roaring applause.

“What I love about touring mostly is that I don’t have to make up my bed,” he says, laughing.

The bar, clearly, is delightfully low.

But beneath the humour is a comic who understands people across cultures, across borders.

“The more you travel, the more you realise human beings are going through the same thing… we’re way more similar than you think,” he says.

And maybe that’s why his comedy works, especially now.

There’s also a certain humility in how he views his own journey, one that doesn’t shy away from calling luck what it is. His big break, he says, came down to timing as much as talent, when Trevor Noah happened to walk into a club just as Collins was about to perform.

“My relationship with Trevor is strictly luck,” he admits.

It was a chance encounter that led to tours across South Africa and beyond, the kind of story that sounds almost too cinematic to be true.

But Collins doesn’t over-romanticise it. If anything, he simplifies it: show up, do the work, and let life do the rest.

And right now, that philosophy has brought him to Dubai where, even in uncertain times, the rooms are full, the laughter is loud, and the connection feels real.

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