I'm going to start a new industry. Poetry offsetting. It's like its carbon cousin, and it won't save the earth but perhaps by paying someone to read a stanza or two, in Tamil Nehrdu, I won't have to feel guilty about the whole Oxford poetry debacle. Heaven forefend that skulduggery is at foot whilst the world heads to hell in a second hand scappage handcart. No doubt, the Fey at Hay will be crying into their claret, but really, who does give a damn.
More importantly Stephen Clayton, author of The art of being dead is giving a reading at the Organic House cafe tomorrow. No poets please. You're needed elsewhere.