So this time last year, I entered the Brighton Festival Poetry Competition at the Hendricks Library of Delightfully Peculiar Writings and what a night it was. I got ‘special mention’ which my mum reckons means ‘you were the best really’ but I was particularly devastated that, yet again, the person with the food sex poem won the £100. When I say devastated, I mean I had a major confidence crash and went into major drama queen mode that life would never be the same again. Then my mum (yes really) suggested I write a food sex poem to outdo all other food sex poems and ‘Dinner will be served at 7′ was born. Since then it has been performed to open mouths(!) at several down and dirty pubs and the ‘foodfuck’ poem is my most requested.
But do I really want to be known as the Foodfuck poet?
So, I put it to you…please decide for me? I’ll be sure to let you know how I get on. My choices for entering the competition are:
If you want a reminder of the poems – Brighton is HERE (right click to open in a new window) and Dinner will be Served at 7 is HERE. The medley would probably be Par Pitie, Not the First Date & Blink.