The first Jam Bones poetry slam passed off peacefully last night. Fair play, it was a great event, with each performer given a bar of fairtrade chocolate. Although I think I left mine behind. Yes, your favourite Fisk-type editor of Square decided after all to pitch in his trowel, and have a go. I had been in 2 minds about whether to enter this event. First off, the event tragically clashed with an album launch by my very good friend, Mr John Mouse, which I would've liked to go to. In the end, I just made it forJohn's post-gig drinks. Secondly, I thought perhaps as the editor of this little mag, I should leave it up to up-and-coming chaps and chapesses, but in the end, I couldn't resist plying my oar.

I would have definitely been loathe to miss this slam. The excellent Anthony Fairweather, plus Byron Vincent did a great job of getting proceedings underway before the slam "proper", and with 16 slammers it was going to be a pretty long night. In an attempt to get around the problem whereby performers who go on first notoriously never win slams, host Mab Jones split the group into 4 sections of four performers, with the winner from each, plus one runner up going through to the next round. There would be a final head-to-head between the winning 2 of this section. It was a good format, but put even more pressure on performers I felt, with the need to effectively have to win three times to take away the main prize - support slots to Atilla the Stockbroker for the Welsh legs of his 30th anniversary tour!

Well, I thought I was in quite a good quality group. being the last of a group which also included the man with the BBC presenter's voice, who works for ITV, Nick Whitehead, Mab Jones's brother, and funny man, Mao Jones, plus Swansea lunatic, and contributor to Square 1, Neil Clarke. The poem I read for this section, Dick Strawberry's Spunk, was quite a long and complicated one, and I'd spent the last couple of days trying to learn it, but when it came down to it, I just didn't have the confidence to do it by heart, and had to have it in my hand. Anyway, I still managed to squeeze through this round.

I was slightly more confident in the next round, reading poems that I'd read many times, but choosing to have a book in front of me as a prop. This round included the wonderful Sue Hamblen, the excellent Jack Pascoe, and someone I'd not heard read before, Deian Tims, who was my favourite from the first round, with some very nice subtle humour, read with a lot of style.

I must admit, I was anticipating that the final would be between Sue and Jack, so was quite shocked to suddenly find myself in the last two, and within minutes of a possible place on a prestigious tour. Catholic guilt, even though I'm not a Catholic (at least, I don't think I am) once again took grip, and I wondered if I shouldn't in fact waive my place in favour of Jack, but as he came fourth, rather than third, this would have been impossible. So I had no choice but to continue. Sue read first, meaning, as in every other round, I was last to read. Sue read her poem about luvvies, but stumbled a couple of times, so I thought I might have a chance. I thought I knew the poem I was going to read, Fail, word perfect, but as it turned out, I faltered many times, and it wasn't really me at my best.

So it was Sue, deserved winner, and will be an excellent support to Atilla the Stockbroker, who she knows from the past, so I'm sure she'll have fun on the tour. I did a bit of schmoozing with a couple of people, including Guardian blogger, Hannah Waldram - read her blog here - before heading on to Buffalo for John's post-gig drinks. A great night overall.