Needless to say, there was an expectation; we are all nearing the exams, and even the most unperturbed and Zen of us are seeking delightful distractions in the night-time. Fortunately, the reputation of MC Mixy and Mark Grist, alias The Count of Monte Gristo, collectively known as 'Dead Poets', precedes them. A mélange of poetry, hip-hop and comedy has the potential to go awry, but despite the unexpectedly small audience the duo ploughed on.

During their show, an autobiographical format of their two years together since teaming up, we were taken from classroom poetry to the grime battle circuit and back again...The journey ends with Mark effectively becoming a more jovial Eminem in 8 Mile, by winning a rap battle with a set about being fierce at board games. Meanwhile, MC Mixy, from his humble origins back at Milking Nook, becomes the recipient of the much-disputed title of Poet Laureate… of Peterborough. Mixy’s talent is manifest, and we can see in his style that he plays with the likes of Scroobius Pip (a detail that he nonchalantly drops in during the narrative); Grist bears the brunt of several paedophile jokes during the show owing to his poor sartorial choices.

From the plaintive ode Come to Peterborough (citing the city’s many joys, such as “romantic nights at the dog track”) to the story of the ten-year-old genius Tarquil who gots rhythm, the flash word that the show inspired is “diverse”. I would have been interested to see these two in their element, in the midst of a raucously drunk Edinburgh crowd, as is to be expected during the elusive 11pm slot; nevertheless, they managed to provoke an appreciative response from the few present. They were at their best when communicating with one another rather than doing sets alone, as their quarrelsome chemistry is their USP. Highlights include flashes of brilliance such as the poem, “I want a girl who reads” – which I am tempted to guess that Mark Grist wrote just for Cambridge, and must be the source of a preposterous amount of coitus for him.  Well played sir.

There were several uncomfortable moments that had to be overcome. They got off to a slow start, and I was apprehensive during their introduction (“we’re going to do a bit of poetry, and a bit of comedy”…); the words were not enough before the music kicked in - a welcome accompaniment that greatly enhanced the effect of their skills. Equally, the rap battle/profanity-laced tirade at the end was not necessary and detracted from the acuity of the rhymes, with attempts at interactivity with the audience falling slightly flat.

This is a near-perfect Edinburgh show: it caters to the self-ingratiating intelligentsia and their love of wordplay, whilst not taking itself too seriously. Unfortunately, the ADC during week 4 of Easter Term was just not the place for it.