After a 5 year all expenses paid holiday at HM pleasure, Max is coming back (with support of his probation officer Clive). Having been wrongly interred for holding a nun against her will (it was God's not hers) and a horrific mix up over the labels on some sandwich fillings (kids are allergic to bloody everything these days), Max is at the station of verse ready to embark on another poetry train to Utopia (or Denton..whichever stop is first).... Born to Renee and Doug Seymour in 1967, Max was named after the highest level marking on his mother's treasured measuring jug. He never saw much of his dad who was highly successful in the world of camouflage.Max has performed countrywide but only 170 miles lengthways and has an unsurpassed collection of charcoal & pencil drawings of 80's Liverpudlian songstress Sonia. Winner of the first (and only!) National Performance Poetry prize in 1997 and stalwart of the performance poetry circuit, Max has been taking a well-earned breather for the last few years. Came out of hiding to scoop the Manchester Literature Festival Slam in 2007. Two volumes of poetry so far..1997's 'A bit of slap and trifle' and the sumptuously colourful 'Money for old Rupert' in 2003' as well as the CD 'Soiled Goods' on Eli Records in 2004. Max's surreal and drier than dry performances and out of time dress sense have graced many a stage over the years as well many a reading on many national TV and radio stations. Hoorah....
SKIPPING RHYME FOR MY MATE PEDRO'S DAD WHO DRIVES A MOBILITY CAR IN WHICH HE PICKS UP ROADKILL He's got a Phd he's got wart he slipped on a paving slab by the tennis court he broke his hip and arm suffered a thrombosis he's got a cattaract and osteoporosis he's got a special car it's got a basket he scraped a badger up by the cattle market brought home a water vole brought home a stoat he showed my two year old something in his coat One two three four we don't go round any more DIARY ENTRY OF A STONEAGE WOODWORM Monday 21st September the Stone Age Absolutely bloody starving
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