"I thought it would be a good idea to start publishing prose as well as poetry." Nina Ellis’s introduction to her prose piece, ‘The Red Balloon’ - which she delivered beaming, perched on a bar stool in her native environment - unintentionally summed up the entirety of the Underground Poetry (UP) movement, which is constantly trying to fulfil its own dictum. It endeavours to "bring London Underground travellers into meaningful contact with each other through poetry" by handing out poems on the Tube and inviting submissions from commuters. This optimistic vision predates its own success, as the majority of attendees at their most recent event, held at the Varsity Hotel, were not strangers but rather familiar faces from many of Cambridge’s poetry readings.

UP’s four-hour event alternated between music and poetry, with plenty of time for drinking and cigarette breaks: a marathon that turned into a Bacchic revel, prompting cathartic dancing during The Staircase Band’s set. The room, normally an exercise studio, was whimsically decorated with fairy lights and UP’s trademark fliers, lined with mirrors and equipped with markers so that people could write poetry on them, and filled with pillows and chairs.

Because the concept of UP is to bring people together, the poetry was roughly split into sentimental and humorous pieces, but was otherwise relatively homogenous in its observations on love, the London Underground, and the human condition. Some self-deprecating moments were uncomfortable: "My next poem is long and that’s all there is to say about it," Sophie Seita quipped.

The most enjoyable moments of the evening were the result of good delivery, particularly in Ellie Kendrick’s piece, which gave a voice to the mice of the Underground ("They’re definitely rats," someone sitting next to me whispered). Felix Bazalgette’s poem was also memorable, as he perfectly captured the experience with which approximately half the world will be all too familiar: falling asleep before The Other Person. Luke McMullan’s ‘Glossectomy’ was a more serious gem, his matter-of-fact reading style lending itself admirably to a discussion of his grandmother’s surgery, which removed her tongue.

Andrew MacFarlane’s and Benji Compston’s acoustic sets, as well as the vocals of Josephine Stephenson, were the more impressive performances of the evening. In particular, MacFarlane’s cover of ‘All My Trials’ and Compston’s ‘Marmalade Child’ ("oh how you stick to me") enraptured the audience and gave warmth to the communalizing atmosphere.

The result was just the experience of being on the tube: a mildly tense journey with a silver lining of mutual appreciation and moral support, and perhaps a wilful ignorance of rats on the tracks.