10:30pm arrived at the Lemon Tree and the man made his entrance. A little
worse for wear I might add. So was I. Thinner than I had imagined and
shorter too. Instantly striking though. The audience consisted of mainly
non-descript people, one punk, a few goth-types and a lot of students.
Shuffling onto the stage with a double whisky in hand and a rucksack over a
shoulder, the audience cheered. Strangely, only about five poems were
recited throughout the performance. The bulk of the material consisted of
extremely funny anecdotes covering numerous subjects such as the Germans,
Jews, drink-driving, his druggy past, ex-wives, etc.
The performance went on for around two hours before the management flashed
the lights to indicate that he should wind up. Which he did, with a
machine-gun recitation of “Evidently Chickentown”. Numerous whiskies caused several trip-ups throughout the poem but it didn't matter. The
audience had been beguiled from start to finish.
As far as my alcohol befuddled mind can remember, the poems recited were
(in no particular order): Health Fanatic, Burnley, The Day My Pad Went Mad, (I Married) A monster from Outer Space, Evidently Chickentown.
There were probably more, but each one was delivered in 100mph style, it was
often hard to keep up. Still, this had been a landmark point in my life and I
had seen Clarkey in the flesh and actually shook his hand afterwards. I can't wait to see him again.
Bruce Vivers