Rev.Porl : A ranty, canty performance poet who delivered EVERYTHING in the same pitch, practically at a shout, which felt to me like aural assault, and if I wanted to be verbally abused for half an hour I'd rather have gone home and picked a fight with my mother to be perfectly honest!
It wasn't all his work - it was this 'poem' in particular (below), which he explained/announced his disclaimer at the start as being 'about whingeing housewives'; although reading it, I don't see any specific mention at all - and I rather took his explanation as a vehicle to just have a vicious go at anyone who is depressed or down as being 'oh dear I am miserable my day has been shitty everybody hates me I think I'll go kill myself now'...
Like telling someone who is depressed to stop being 'spineless', 'chin up' or 'buck their ideas up' is any help when they are dealing with a serious mental illness... and as for purporting the idea that depressive people just need a 'kick up the arse' - FUCKING OUTRAGEOUS!!
In short, I felt it was trivialising the fact that people do get depressed, taking the piss of them more than anything, and, for someone who tried to get out of my argument with him after by telling me 'I used to be a psychiatric nurse, y'know' (Ha! Exactly what I expected from an uncaring medical profession), I think the rant was utterly unneccessary, extremely ignorant and insensitive to people who ACTUALLY do have problems which should be taken seriously.
Depression should not be trivialised in this manner - even whingeing housewives might have some real reason behind their hitting the gin bottle, and yes, he incensed me almost to the point of tears. I did not spend the last few years dealing with someone with a serious depressive illness for fun...and yet I felt I was expected to sit there on a night out and pretend I enjoyed hearing that sort of ignorant shit.
I had a further discussion with him afterwards, fairly constructively suggesting that he had to be more aware of his audience, remembering that not a lot of people when they're drunk listen to the 'disclaimer' before he begins his rant - that it was not clear within the piece itself what the vehicle/reasoning behind the subject matter was etc etc...
But he was a condescending twat who very smugly suggested that I was simply a bit thick in not grasping the context in the first place. This seriously pissed me off even more - I'm not your average drunken plebian who's going to champion and cheer at you when you pick on workman-type topics for ranting about which are generally thoroughly misunderstood by the people who are banging on about them....
(I put up with this at work from thick fuckers who refer to immigrants as 'dole-stealers', 'lazy towel-heads' etc etc without understanding the full horror of the refugee situation, but just want to pat each other on the back for holding similar bigoted opinions...and I get very angry about that too...)
And I point blank refused to be a fawning, fleering sycophant and revel in the 'wit' I heard last night purely because he'd driven all the way down from 'oop north' to be in the venue.
Sorry, Rev.Porl, but if you can stand there and vent your spleen/foist your opinions on us at such a pitch in a bar I expect you to be able to hear out someone with some constructive criticism afterwards without acting superior. I suffered your opinion at such a decibel, you can bloody well listen to mine.
I don't often get angry - I'm usually a very level headed person and it takes A LOT for me to fly off the handle, but my god this had me wanting to poke his eyes out with a pointy stick...
Read and see if you agree:
(pasted from his website - the grammatical errors are NOT my own!!)
Breakdown! It’s the latest craze
they’re queuing round the block
to pay the counsellors wage
Welcome to the temple of the bleeding heart
where the mediocre pull their paltry lives apart
with nothing to complain about,
they insist their lives are shit
just makes me think what’s worse,the turd
or the flies who feed off it..
whatever happened to dignity
whatever happened to self restraint,
if you’ve done a poop, you have to share it with the group
or write shite poetry, weave suffering-charts or paint
(THAT’S IT,TAMSIN..PAINT YOUR ANGER OUT..
ALL TOGETHER NOW..."DADDY,I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!")
listen to the spineless whine...
listen to the spineless whine...
it’s emotional incontinence,
oh how you’re striving to be happy
I’ll tell you what you need, love,
a fucking concrete nappy!!
Breakdown!It’s the latest craze,
their queuing round the block to pay
some parasites wage
(I’ll tell you what..give us fifty quid and I’ll listen to you for half an hour....)
Now tell me, where's the reference to the whingeing housewife in that?? I see no reference whatsoever to the valium-taking/gin-drinking/gold-card-spe