Introductions are important; they set the atmosphere for what’s to follow. So when Ross Sutherland, critically acclaimed, published poet was preceded by a bunch of strangers, shuffling out to recite their work, it was difficult to greet the rest of the evening with much enthusiasm. These ‘poets’ had attended the writing workshop held before the main event and somehow managed to hijack the stage, distressing us with a series of awkward readings, made more so by the fact that they were unintroduced and unexplained: just who were these people?

Well, there was the lady whose voice resembled the tone of those M&S adverts, ever, ever so softly breathing out her words as though staging a polite orgasm. When her second poem was about Tesco, we started to suspect that supermarkets were her thing. Then there was The List Man, who listed things about Even and Odd. And then there was Susie Cronin, whose name I bothered to retain because her luxurious Irish accent, unravelling tales of chilly countryside landscapes was the most sincere thing I’d heard all evening. Finally, finally, Sutherland appeared from nowhere, awakening us from our comatose states with a friendly, ‘Hiya!’ and launching in to a humorous introduction to his poetry. What a relief to hear something that didn’t take itself too seriously, or fall into the trap of thinking all poetry Must Sound Profound. His univocalism, a poem composed of only one vowel was perfectly suited to performance and he even managed to pull off a Pac Man epic – in 3 cantos – which was actually rather beautiful. But it was cold, and it was late and Sutherland retreated after only four poems, his time and ours wasted by a whole lot of bad poetry.