858: Steve Coogan Ate My Poetry

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Thick, propped
in the black-slapped
of Brighton’s Komedia,

for an evening
of Henry Normal
(other Northern Poets
are available):

I sit stool-high
(beer table handy),
an American asks me:
‘Is this guy funny?’

Before I respond
her English friend
offers explanation:
‘He’s friends
with Steve Coogan.’

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