When I heard I was to be reviewing Blahblahblah, a spoken word poetry evening, my heart sank. I am ashamed to say that I considered a couple of bad experiences in GCSE English and the odd sepia-tinted recital on YouTube sufficient evidence to consign ‘modern poetry’ to my ‘self-indulgent and annoying’ pile. I confess my bigotry here in the hope that my conversion might give like-minded individuals cause pause for thought. That said, this is Bristol. I’m probably preaching to an already very well-informed choir. If so, you won’t be surprised to hear that I could not have been more wrong.
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