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On Friday, I went to see Paper Tiger Poetry in Vauxhall, a neighbourhood of London I’d never been to before. It was an open mic night with two anchor poets, Donall Dempsey and Hollie McNish.  You may have heard of Hollie; I’ve written about her before on this blog and was even present at the genesis of her most recent hit, a commentary on Flo Rida’s ‘Blow My Whistle.’ I’m taking credit for having inspired the bit about zumba, as well as the last line that I don’t want to spoil.

Anyway. I invited My Friend Kamilla to Hollie’s gig.  The two anchor poets were great, and there were some notable successes who gave open mike presentations, and the whole night finished with a group singalong in honour of St. Patrick that I thought was absolutely fantastic. Also, the venue was the Tea House Theatre, which was a delightful spot.

However, there were some notable failures – enough that, when we adjourned to The Black Dog hipster pub down the road, Kamilla and Hollie and I kicked off a round of ‘which open mic poet would be your secret boyfriend?’ (it was almost all dudes) that lasted more or less until the bar closed.

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