Luke Wright is a swaggering fop (and I mean that as a compliment). His clothes are a modern take on the threads of a Georgian dandy and he’s tall, but it’s not this that makes his presence too big for this small stage. He’s a poet, but his show isn’t a traditional poetry reading, where an anxious wordsmith shares sheaves of earnest verse. Instead, Wright hurls words into the audience, belting lines into the microphone like the frontman in a rock band. His stage persona strays from lurching Essex geezer to tender social commentator, each character seemingly effortless.

I’ve seen Wright perform several times before (as a side note, if you get a chance to see his long-form poem/play, What I Learned from Johnny Bevan, go. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before). Each time, he brings that same camaraderie with the audience; that laughing connection and then that quick twist to the heart that characterises many of his poems.

The current tour, The Toll, is a selection of old and new poems – I’m delighted to hear my old favourite, Essex Lion, as well as new offerings, such as The Ballad of Edward Dando, the Celebrated Gourmandiser! Wright is never afraid to shy away from politics, such as in his vitriolic IDS (described as ‘A univocal lipogram in I for Iain Duncan Smith’, but the set list for this tour is generally more introspective and personal. Wright speaks of his two young sons and of his recent divorce, of revisiting the sites of old memories, and about connecting (or not) with nature. This is a more grown-up version of Wright’s previous shows, without compromising on any of his signature vitality and humour.   ★★★★★   @BookingAround   28^th April 2017