Here’s some of the lines I’ve been dishing out to punters at Shunt this week, to varying effects.

The brief was to perform poetry “When no-one is listening” and to also be inspired by Shunt’s unusual setting, history and other art installations.

So I’ve been wearing a wireless head-mic and approaching customers in the bar, asking them, “Do you want a line?” and then offering up some of the following:

Style 7 Content 6

Style 5 Content 3

Before I set off for London I pack my stuff into boxes. I’m behind on my rent, so there’s always the chance I could be thrown out before I get back, so I figure it will be easier on the landlord if it’s all ready to go. I chuck some clothes into a bag and I’m ready. I also pack my chaos-magnet. It’s like my MacGuffin in the sense that it doesn’t have any real existence or meaning beyond its function to drive the plot forward. Like the briefcase in Pulp Fiction.

I’m at Hull Station and the magnet kicks into life and the train to Doncaster is late, which means I miss my connection. Eventually, after waiting around for an hour, I get the London train.

I’m sat next to a little old lady with a beard comparable to my own. She’s approximately 158 years old. We get chatting and our conversation covers everything from the career of Ken Dodd, what makes a good nun, the merits of getting drunk on red wine vs. the merits of gettting drunk on white wine and weather conditions in Uganda. By the end of the journey I feel like we’ve bonded, so I feel an obligation to carry her luggage onto the tube and wave her off. She gives me a pack of biscuits as a token of her appreciation.

After a sweaty jaunt across London I manage to reach Shunt Vault. Amazingly I’m only five minutes late. I meet Byron, Joshua, Helen and Molly and we go for our first discussion/workshop. The Shunt Vault is a unique place. I like the way you can hear the drips of water and the muffled screams floating across from the London Dungeon, but unfortunately these noises cause the chaos-magnet to malfunction and we are set upon by hundreds of flies.

The Shunt experience can be a little jolting to people who aren’t used to it, but the whole process is supposed to be about getting spoken word performers out of their comfort zone. On the first night of performance the chaos-magnet picks up on the other performers nerves and misgivings, so I suggest de-camping to the nearest pub so we can have a chat, and if necessary get blind drunk. I’ve performed at the Shunt before as part of the Incubate process, so I do my best to put the others at ease.

We’re a funny bunch, us spoken word lot. And when you remove the confines and boundaries of the traditonal set, the flapping begins. I try to calm everyone down a bit; it is after all, just an experiment, and if all goes tits up… so what? We’ve tried something new…

As it goes, we all have a laugh with it. My biggest fear for spoken word and performance poetry is that it will become too stale and formulaic, and processes like this, while not always successful, at least try something new with the format. I feel the need to push the boundaries of my performances, both in content and location, whenever I can.  Personally, I like standing on a platform fifteen-foot above a bar shouting abuse thinly disguised as a poem at a bunch of unsuspecting punters. Makes the chaos-magnet go into a frenzy.

I also got see the amazing Oopise Mamushka sting quartet and TdC.

And by far the best thing about these residencies is that you start off with collaborators and leave with friends. And not even the chaos-magnet can disrupt that…

Writer busted for dishing out lines. Readallaboutit!