Today is ‘Red Nose Day’. A date that has, not surprisingly, wormed its way into a British social calendar. A date when, historically, normal, sane, rationale thinking individuals complete bizarre acts of sheer folly, or behave in a manner whereby on any of the other 364 days of the year they would find themselves at best - arrested or, at worst - sectioned, and left facing years of therapy and ridicule from friends and family.
Men dressing as women. Women dressing as men. Strangers snogging for nothing more tangible than a verbal pledge of financial benevolence. People doing crazy or darn right stupid acts of tomfoolery much to the annoyance of the sane minority.
If that sounds all too familiar, then you must already be aware of the world of performance poetry. Performance poetry inside public houses. Performance poetry at Wigan’s inimitable Tudor House.
The good people of Wigan rarely need an excuse to don curly wigs or get naked, just as much as the town’s bad people seldom need an excuse to demand money with menaces. Afterall, the town’s council has done the latter for years. Which is just as well, because this all makes for essential viewing at Write Out Loud’s poetry night held inside the bowels of the Tudor. Bowels that have, on the odd occasion, been the venue for irritable performers - Karate poets and their like. Not last night. No Sir - ee. Last night would qualify as a comparative to last month’s event, an event that I think I described as simply ‘good’.
Last night was better. Better in terms of that all important atmosphere. Better in terms of attendance. Better in terms of the number of poets performing. And better simply because Russ, the pub’s highly animated licensee, had finally replaced that horrific liquid that once nestled in an upside down bottle and sold under the guise of Vodka. He’s replaced it with a much smoother tasting fluid. No, not brake fluid - Smirnoff. Which rather worryingly spells ‘poisoned’ on predictive text but that’s another story - as they say.

Anyway, the poetry. Yes, the poetry. It was fired at an attentive and significant audience made up of poets and vagrants alike. The odd council employee, and a sprinkling of determined drinkers. This porridge of cliéntal was the baby bear’s bowl - just right. We had a loquacious compére in Pete Crompton. We had gentle thought provocation in Stevie Turner. Stuff and nonsense (yet skilfully crafted) in Dermot Glennon and we had complete gibberish in Rob Goodier. What more can a night have?
Well, it had brand new ‘ fresh out the box’ readers. Readers such as Steve Reegan from New Brighton (with the world’s largest Dictaphone) who regaled us with poetry inspired by his time spent living in Wigan. And as if that wasn’t enough, we had others demonstrating just ‘how to perform your first poems on stage bereft of nervousness'.

John Derby and Christine Yates contributed to the night in their self-assured styles and deliveries, honed through relatively few previous performances. Melanie Rees now shows no sign of nerves and her poetry flowed like hot air should flow from a hand-drying vent. Neither of which worked in the gent’s toilet, Russ? This complex issue of finding somewhere suitable to dry my hands forced me to miss Nat Clare’s performance, but judging by the ferocity of the applauds - he was good. Either that, or the pies had arrived.

Wigan’s a great venue but everybody knows that I have a bias towards the town and its people. I’m not even a real Wiganer and I live in Wigan so other people don’t have to. How noble is that? I live in Wigan because it has real people. Real men and women. It bothers me not that some members of its town think that all poets are gay. This amoeba level of mentality is not unique to Wigan but if I’d have thought for one minute that that person would be able to decipher irony or sarcasm, I would’ve struck him with Loretta’s handbag had she been sitting there.

John Togher did his best to include the incident in a poem, a poem that was especially written on the night by John himself. A poem that also included a sleight dig at yours truly. Touché Togher.
I read a poem by Billy Collins titled ‘Forgetfulness’ and another I’d written - the title, you guessed it, I can’t remember.

Jefferama sent us all bananaramas with his poetry. Jeffo has a great stage presence and it appears that there is little subject matter that he would shy away from. What his poetry may lack in page quality, is balanced by his animation and natural sense of performance - and he’s a genuine Bolton lad.

Gus Jonsson too has that presence. His reading sits comfortably at every WOL venue and he adapts his choice of poem both skilfully and carefully. He’s very risqué - and we love him.

Geraldine, Isabella and Kate boosted the female contribution with their own unique poems and delivery. However, at various points in the evening I had to recharge my glass with the new contents of Russ’s bar and the inevitable trips to the toilet that this promotes. Getting the hand-driers to work proved as difficult as getting Paul Blackburn to read a selection of his work. He complained bitterly that he’d nothing new to read but not half as bitterly as some poets did when he intimated that he may actually read something - something we’d all heard previously.

Suffice to say that Pete Crompton read and performed his poems with an enthusiasm reserved for manic performers who immediately grab your attention - and keep it.
He’s performing again in Bolton tonight. Me? I’d be in bed for days after a performance like that.

Those of you who chose to remain at home missed a good night and with the clocks going forward in a couple of weeks time - that means that it’s an hour less to wait before next month's event. If you can’t wait that long before your next fill of poetry - The Blue Boar in Bolton tonight? The Howcroft on Sunday? Bloody Hell - best get on eBay and see how much a new liver costs..?

Now, where's that book 'How to make friends..?'

Good Afternoon Darren

Stick to Guinness...full of tucan shit

A wonderful and entertaining account as usual and thank you for the kind words pertaining to myself.

PS Gus Jonsson not Johnson he's a little more polished than me.
Once again many thanks, hope to see you soon.
Gus.

.

Thanks Darren
I'm sorry I forgot to mention Pauls new cutting edge performance/drama piece


called 'whooooop'

Im hoping he will now join this discussion and explain this super new direction.

For a successful night the lack of response is frustrating.
You can beat the Tudor house
especially now they fixed the Vodka.
I have started to notice the difference between performance poetry and page poetry.

A pattern has emerged.
I also noticed that a common denominator in performance poets is they are quite extravagant and debauchic. (I made that word up BTW)

the love life in the fast lane a lot of the time.
this does not exclude page poets, but always includes performance ones.

I think that's why the tudor has 'the tudor club' a kind of collective. I think it has its own energy force unique on the circuit, clique? no its just the night lends to the extra mile, goes that one step further, not as stale or stuffy as a library reading (nothing wrong with Library readings)

What i'm saying is I enjoy
the wild side and the 'out there' mental side of it all, makes me feel like someone, like I'm alive and making the most of the world, getting up there, getting out there, drinking, reading , ranting, watching poets throw themselves into performance an drama (take Gus J's December show with the Priest outfit, Baz alders bed scene, etc).

It seems an injustice that this night gets so little exposure. Its better than embryo ( a drama/poetry/music night in Salford) a lot of the time.

however theres been times when its bombed and that is criminal, if pushed this night could be monster all the time.

there were 16 poets reading.
all confident and complete, all running on time and doing great work.
a few new recruits too.

I repat this night CAN be built on.

I have few ideas and I'll prob compere this again soon if John wants me too, I may bring the projections and candles, and spice it up with a few more ideas.

People want fun, why not.
lifes too short to not muck around. Mucking about makes you live longer n all.

I'm scared i'll end up covered in cobwebs in say a chorlton library.

i enjoyed the night , the half i stayed for :) yes when it works the tudor is wonderful , a veritable three ring circus of audience and poets .

soon be light nights , then the tudor becomes its whole self

Great night at the mighty Tudor!

Great performances!

Great compere!

Great chips and tomato sauce!

From John Darby and sister Christine

I've been inspired by the lunacy at Thursday's Tudor to also change my name from plain "john" to my name of choice,"Jonboy Walton"!

Photos from the Tudor are now up in galleries

Hi y'all. I enjoyed the Tudor session and have just written it up on my Liv Echo blog. Here's some of what I've said...
"I thought the Tudor night was commendably left field - sticking two fingers up at contemporary popular culture (dominated as that is by crap telly, and people paying through the nose to see vapid pop tarts such as Girls Aloud prance around on video screens at regional arenas).
The Wigan poetry was organised by the magisterial and mufflered John Togher, who read a penned-on-the-night poem that referenced: New Brighton (thanks); pies (always of great philosophical importance in Wigan); and the subject of whether poets are all gay (how VERY dare he!).
The MC last Thursday was the poet Pete Crompton who has infectious energy and style."
There's more... visit
http://steveregan.merseyblogs.co.uk/
or just put 'steve regan's last resort' into Google
Keep the faith!




http://steveregan.merseyblogs.co.uk/

When you have been and read Steve's high class blog email the Echo and moan about their objectionable pop up ads which are a bloody pest.

This Thursday (9th April) at the Tudor House, Wigan

Those lazy simmer days are due, sitting in the Tudor garden with a Guinness and a cigarette listening to poets mingle, but it is only Spring, the nights are getting lighter though and on this evening Write Out Loud, NXNW and the Tudor give you a light Spring eve of words, rants, stanzas and rhymes.


The last few events have been full of joviality and friendly atmosphere and again we ride on the back of that Great European Hare staring out from the stage, sharing reason and rhyme through a haze of drunkenness.

Comments:
'A rollicking good night'
'Once again the Tudor sets the standard for Performance Poetry'
'Loved seeing everyone perform and meeting so many friendly faces'
'Wigan is the ideal place to begin, develop and ultimately enjoy both your own poetry and that of other like minded people'

All welcome.


*Normally a shy animal, the European Brown Hare changes its behaviour in spring, when hares can be seen in broad daylight chasing one another around meadows; this appears to be competition between males to attain dominance (and hence more access to breeding females)

Hare, hare!
I'll be there!
(Hopefully)

Compère wanted. Anyone fancy it?