The Screaming Faun
So this is how I ended up at the rowdiest poetry night I've ever been to. So me and Wee Little Tom went do the Great Eastern, where the staff were being educated in the tasting of wine. This involved eight Great Eastern staff, five regulars, Daniel Taylor, Alex Poofy, and Lou Carpy, all sipping from a great selection of wines, and tipping wines into a large silver bucket. Why, we shall discover later. So me and Little Wee Tom had a couple of glasses of wine, and Rosanne and Sam made long straws, and drank all the wine from the large silver bucket.
And then we set off to The Fringe Bar, for the launch of Get Lost, the Hammer and Tongue poetry magazine, which features one of my poems. (See 'Dumb and Explicit' for the poem itself). And so various people were there, including Alice (with large child in her womb) and Dom and Elizabeth and her friend Jo and Adam Cohen and Jimmy the Scotsman and a whole host of other people. And so I was performing two sets of poems, and so soon took the stage for the first one, and was greeted by great amounts of drunken heckling, most of which seemed to be coming from my three housemates, Ro-ro El-booshnell and Daniel Taylor shouting at me, and Tom performing on the 'Screaming Fawn', an accurate simulation of the sounds of a fawn in distress. Three poems on, I left the stage, but heckling continued until Jimmy laid down the law.
How does a poetry night become so rowdy? Some would blame the Great Eastern's free wine. I am sad to say that by the time the second set of poems came around I may possibly have also been slightly the worse for drink, as I leant over the mic and ranted poetry into the air. Apparently it went quite well, considering.
I'm in the grand final on Monday the 12th, upstairs at Polar Central, or 'The Lift'. Do come along if you get the chance.
And then we set off to The Fringe Bar, for the launch of Get Lost, the Hammer and Tongue poetry magazine, which features one of my poems. (See 'Dumb and Explicit' for the poem itself). And so various people were there, including Alice (with large child in her womb) and Dom and Elizabeth and her friend Jo and Adam Cohen and Jimmy the Scotsman and a whole host of other people. And so I was performing two sets of poems, and so soon took the stage for the first one, and was greeted by great amounts of drunken heckling, most of which seemed to be coming from my three housemates, Ro-ro El-booshnell and Daniel Taylor shouting at me, and Tom performing on the 'Screaming Fawn', an accurate simulation of the sounds of a fawn in distress. Three poems on, I left the stage, but heckling continued until Jimmy laid down the law.
How does a poetry night become so rowdy? Some would blame the Great Eastern's free wine. I am sad to say that by the time the second set of poems came around I may possibly have also been slightly the worse for drink, as I leant over the mic and ranted poetry into the air. Apparently it went quite well, considering.
I'm in the grand final on Monday the 12th, upstairs at Polar Central, or 'The Lift'. Do come along if you get the chance.
posted by Rufus Moonshine at 9:20 AM
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