John Hegley (4 stars)


This article is from 2006.

Aaaah, John Hegley. He’s like chicken soup spiked with Ecstasy. Usually, when a comic poet gets his guitar out or dares to expose some inner pain there’s a good chance that the gnome of embarrassment will scamper up and bite your neck. But not with this bespectacled national treasure, this skinny Lutonian whose use of words and sense of humanity is such a complete darn pleasure to behold.

He offers biscuits to the front row (one lucky chap even gets tea), sets some of his older poems to guitar, reads from his new book, Uncut Confetti, and engages his audience in ways we may not have expected. We do a bit of ‘serious community singing’ about the Luton bungalow in which he grew up, take part in a spot of finger clicking, a lot of laughing and walk away feeling optimistic. (Ashley Davies)

Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 21), 11.05am, £10-£11 (£7-£8).

This article is from 2006.


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