Everyone who attended the evening with Luke Wright knew they’d witnessed something special. From the moment he arrived on the stage, slightly flamboyant in DMs and a suit, pocket hankie and no tie, his charisma was apparent and the poetry shone. Luke pitched his performance perfectly for an audience made up of such a wide range of ages. His opening poem was humorous and relatable yet became really significant as ‘Fat Josh’ learned an important lesson from ‘Polly’ – that she liked guys of all sizes…but not bullies. Luke shared his memories of work experience and commuting with his dad, the anxieties we sometimes feel about having to stay in while your friends go out, and the tale of Edward Dando, Georgian oyster-guzzler extraordinaire. Luke’s poems trick you into thinking they have come easily; his use of rhyme and rhythm and his impressive delivery from memory mean you don’t always realise till afterwards what immense artistry has gone into them. When he explained the concept of univocalism to the audience, and the challenge of writing a whole poem using only one vowel (something, incidentally we have also experimented with at Poetry Now – Monday lunchtimes E1; do come along!) the audience could not fail to be wowed. Luke is passionate about form, and the effects created by placing constraints on poetry; he isn’t simply a free verse, spoken word artist. Like a verbal ballerina, his performance appears utterly effortless, yet I was simultaneously aware of his astonishing level of skill honed over many years of graft and craft. This leading light in performance art, who can fill the Barbican theatre, who plays to audiences of 2,000 together with his mate, John Cooper Clarke, was here in Woodbridge, at our school, in our theatre, (and in my classroom) and he delighted us.