Tag Archives: open mike

Back for a night of sex & love after the cold and dismal summer. Captain Bob chased a moorhen through his boat with a meat cleaver, naked as the way God made him and trying out all his Kung-Fu moves. … Continue reading →

And then began the whole mad swirl of poets and words, guitars and accordions and all of what was left in Paris of my mad poet friends, who sweltered in a cellar beneath the Lizard Lounge to spin tales and … Continue reading →

A cracking night, thanks all who came for making it that. Over two hours of continuous poetry and song, broadcast by phone to Norma in the Alps – we should put one of these nights out as a podcast. Naomi’s … Continue reading →

So. The Spear Danes in days gone by and the kings that ruled them had courage and greatness. The Ogre, that mead hall held in high esteem, a fine house wherein to hear the tale of Grendel told on Woden’s … Continue reading →

… somewhere under the 14th arrondisement. The square cut stone tunnels like some tomb, some long dead corridor in the soundless heart of a pyramid. 18 of us made the descent, 18 of us made it back, through a hole … Continue reading →

The Paris streets were like a ghost town last night – everyone was indoors watching the great Sego vs Sarko debate. But in the Ogre à Plumes Spoken Word filled the upstairs bar for an intimate gig that spilled out … Continue reading →