In a small upstairs space at the Basement Theatre the ‘stage’ is a dimly lit room seedy with the detritus of drinking. Ben Fagan’s one man, forty minute poetry show starts off with what might have been a Slam Poetry contest entry: it rhymes and is somewhat clever in places but doesn’t move me.  He’s setting the scene though, introducing various threads but occasionally labours too long over obvious jokes. I don’t want to hear him saying “hi Koo” more than once; I get it, he’s going to crack a Haiku. I’m sure this is something he will refine.

Within minutes of that awkward kooing something rather beautiful is born. Authentic vulnerability and a good dose of earnestness are present in his portrayal of moments at parties, his relationship with his father, his views on feminism (it’s like being back at Uni again). From the moment he whistles ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ in order to impress a girl (woman/female/womyn) the tone of this performance really picks up. I’m in. I’m present for this now.

The supportive texts he reads out from his father make me wonder how many people are that well loved by theirs; maybe if more young men had kind, supportive fathers we’d have more feminist poet boys (men, males) sharing honestly and creatively?

Dare I say I feel quite uplifted and a chunk of cynicism falls away.  “Nostalgia is a memory of a memory,” says Ben Fagan. Well. I’ll drink to that.

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