WOL kicked off the New Year with an impressive night of poetry at an unusually quiet Tudor House.

An audience of over thirty were treated to an eclectic mix of poetry from regulars and new comers alike. There were great debuts from Christine Yates, John Derby and Belinda Johnston and you can find photos of the event in Galleries.

I’m not qualified to give reviews, but that doesn’t stop some people, so here goes. I have always enjoyed the Wigan venue -what is it? The Tudor. It provides a dolly mixture of poets’ and drink armed with words and performance and last night was no exception.
Just how Gordon Zola remembers his words baffles me? They jump from his mouth without hesitancy, like Paratroopers jumping from an aeroplane. Each word then pulls its rip cord and gently floats towards your reasoning. Well, except one or two. The ones that hit the ground hard and leave you feeling some sort of discomfort or pain and you’re left rubbing your metaphorical shins. Excellent, as always, Alan.
Mr and Mrs Clays, the stalwarts of performance poetry, furnished the room with a verbal magnolia. Safe and reassuring poetry from the both of them. Gillian Forrester (you may have guessed this is in no particular order) surprised me. She once told me that she couldn’t write poetry. Well, if that’s the case, then who was that charlatan on stage reciting a well crafted and well delivered poem? Humour, irony and a discreet rhyming scheme to boot. Marvellous Gillian.
Mr John Togher provided a list of Schindler like proportion of his ex girlfriends and partners and served this in a soup of confessional broth. If it’s forgiveness you’re after John - two ‘Hail Marys’ and an ‘Our Father’ should see you right! A truly fine poet.
Stevie Turner’s poetry has grown on me. His words are delivered in a well paced and well articulated manner and the contents of his material is both thought provoking and sincere. Bravo.
Melanie. My beautiful, fabulous Melanie. Your words danced on that stage. They were the legs of Michael Flatley. Wonderful - wonderful stuff. And you smelt nice too!
Peter Crompton. While Peter didn’t smell quite as nice as Melanie, unless Swarfega is your thing, his poetry, as ever, was spot on. I have ran out of superlatives with which to marry to Peter’s work. Yes he can rant. Yes he can shout. But his words and feelings are no coincidence. Yes, he can perform poetry. His poetry. Once the words are allowed the time to stop resonating, that’s when his poetry hits you. Splentastic.
Our newcomers - where there any? What happened to the agitated, anxious first timer. Everybody seemed very much at ease and showed no real signs of subjecting themselves to a barrage of wordy rotten fruit. Lara, John, Belinda, Julian and all the others that contributed to the evening, I thank you. Great Stuff.
Ooh - and Dave Morgan turned up too!

One of the most professional nights i have seen.
Louise is a great compere
Everyone seemed so pro.

I enjoyed each and every performance.

So, Darren, if you can't write reviews, who is that charlatan penning a brilliant review of an excellent night? Very funny and well-written, to complement your great poetry on the night itself.

Keep telling Gillian that she is a great poet. Too self-effacing, she is. Superb last poem of hers with some wonderful, clever writing.

So, what IS it about Wigan then? We WERE the pub last night. Poets outnumbering clientele. But why so few ordinary punters? Smoking ban? Weather? More likely the winter flu that has been laying folks low and closing hospital wards across the north West. The Tudor was perhaps the safest place to be.

Louise's only second shot at compering and didn't she do well?

Thank you everyone.

Julien,

I think girls naturally make better comperes.
They are more gentle I think.
They are better organised than men it seems.

Wigan
It builds a reputation.
There are some classic nights at this place.
Always something to write home about.

I just got floored by that bug.
reckon me caught it in the pub there.

You told me you had already got the poetry bug ages ago.

Better comperes? Isn't that an anagram of: Peter Crom Beest? Spooky.

I'm sure I saw that 'bug' in the toilets.It was standing in front of the mirror applying lipstick, wearing fish nets and sling-backs. I didn't get his name, but he looked like he was enjoying the poetry.
Then I saw him with a collection box at the bar and at the Kebab house later before finally getting into a taxi. The driver said that it was just a 'bug going around'.
Mmmmh.
And yes, Louise was a fine compere. Without compare, if I was to plagarise 'Gerry Sinclaire'.