Wednesday, 29 June 2011

5 YEARS OF GLAM SLAM UK: 2008-2011 - History

The Glam Slam UK took place in London (UK) between 2008 and 2011. Hosted in London by Ernesto Sarezale, the event was inspired by Emanuel Xavier's glamorous 'vogue ball'-cum-'poetry slams' hosted annually in Manhattan, NYC, for about a decade (1998-2008).

See: Press & Testimonials

Winner: Emma Jones

Photos: on flickr 
Video: Emma Jones' winning performance
Winning poems: here
Competing categories: here
Venue: The Book Club

Winner: Chris Young

Photos: on flickr  
Winning poems: here
Competing categories: here
Venue: The Book Club

Winner: Mark Walton
Photos: on flickr

Videos: Gg/Qwee; Carmina
Winning poems: here
Competing categories: here 
Venue: Royal Vauxhall Tavern

Winner: Susie Showers

Photos: on flickr  
Winning poems: here
Competing categories: here 
Venue: Royal Vauxhall Tavern

Glam Slam UK 2011: Report and Pix

CONGRATULATIONS to Emma Jones for winning the Glam Slam UK 2011! A deserving champion in what was a very competitive final including Carmina Louisa Masoliver-Marlow (best LOSS poem), Raymond Antrobus (best WIG-a-poem), and Alison Brumfitt (best LUST poem). Emma won the trophy for the best WORK poem in the first round. That's her on the left receiving her £100 prize.
Thanks to everyone who contributed in one way or another. Thanks to Catherine Brogan (who also took all the photos in this blog entry) and Chris Young for their great guest performances, to Marcus Reeves for glamorously assisting, to Sina Evil for a delightful DJ set, to Bob Henderson for his glittery door-whoring, to the wonderful slammers and open-mic-ers, to The Book Club for providing an amazing basement and to the absolutely gorgeous audience who packed the best Glam Slam UK to date!

Special thanks go to Emanuel Xavier for joining us from the other side of the pond and reading three poems for us. He is the one who started it all in NY, NY over a decade ago.

Here you can find Carmina Louisa Masoliver-Marlow's lovely blog entry recounting her experience at the Glam Slam 2011. A very enjoyable read:

I have witnessed lots of wonderful antics at the Glam Slam UK over the years, but one of my all time favourites has to be Alison Brumfitt in skimpy black underwear smearing herself with chocolate. The score sheets are still smelling of the substance!

Other temperature raising moments came courtesy of brave boys Alain English and Keith Jarrett. Quite an eyeful! 

The night had wonderful performances from some regulars and quite a few new faces: Angry Sam, Carmina Louisa Masoliver-Marlow, Aidan Foley, Matthew Stradling, Robert Duirs, Joe Campbell, Fran Isherwood, Emma Jones, Alison Brumfitt, Fabrizio Pagan, Alain English, John Hogget, Keith Jarrett, Raymond Antrobus, Michelle Madsen, Tony Hickson, Paolo Ferrari and The Jetzer Hara Box.

( well as one name - in the wig category - that has escaped me...)

Tuesday, 28 June 2011

Winning Poems 2011

Winner: Emma Jones  
Poems: "JOBS" in the WORK category &  "G.C.S.E (A poem about teaching drama in an inner London secondary school)" in the GRAND FINAL.

WORK Category:
"JOBS" by Emma Jones

Well I've done a lot of jobs
Most of which were shitty
But I don't want your props
And I don't want your pity

It's pretty uninspiring
Sitting and perspiring
In a call centre; it's like some dementor
It'll suck out your soul, leave you empty and cold
A bottomless hole like some previously untold
Circle of hell; we're working in hell
Where your headset is a ball and chain
And the emptiness hurts more than pain
And your nineteen year old supervisor
Comes to your desk just to chastise ya
Because you even dared to take
Fifteen minutes on a comfort break-!?
Telesales: that's the worst of the lot
If you succeed you're a cunt, and if not
They sit you with the top prick: "watch and learn; 
This is what you do if you want to earn"
One day, I lasted in that little caper
Got a job as an office junior shuffling paper,
"You see this little hole in the envelope, yeah?
Well the person's address... goes there".
Argh! they act like you've had a lobotomy, 
You think: should I tell them I've got a degree? Nah
And the photocopier eats all the paper you put in it
And you're watching the clock and you're counting the minutes 
And the second hand crawls by- but why does time always fly
At weekends, when you're with friends, and spending money?
It's funny, that, 

Oh I've done a lot of jobs
Most of which were shitty
But I don't want your props
And I don't want your pity

It's pretty damn disgusting 
Cleaning and a-dusting
Sweeping and a-mopping
For plebs who go shopping
And dropping food all over the floor, 
And what kind of people eat at the in-store restaurant?
Well messy cunts, that's who
They must throw food at their faces and miss
And I can tell you this
Cause I cleaned it every morning at 6am
I've cleaned postmen's toilets; that was quite grim
I've cleaned out sanitary disposal bins
The monotony was what got to me
I've filed and stapled made cups of tea
I've done factories, I've done fax machines

Yes I've done a lot of jobs
Most of which were shitty
But I don't want your props
And I don't want your pity

It's pretty damn demeaning
Men leaning over the bar
To look down your bra 
And then grabbing your arse as you pass 
With an armful of glasses
Being a waitress, yeah you get tips.
For tables of men to stare at your tits
And go snapping their fingers and acting like dicks
When you spill a bit of wine 
Cause you've worked for nine hours at a time
With no break
And your hands are starting to shake
If I was a maid in the Victorian age
I'd probably get paid even more of a wage 
Slaving away for three pounds an hour 
And there's no union, no people power
You're the shit-on
So know your place and cower.
And if
Someone says:
"Cheer up love, 
It might never happen"
Smile sweetly. 
Resist the urge to slap 'em. 

Oh I've done a lot of jobs
Most of which were shitty
But I don't want your props
And I don't want your pity. 

©  Emma Jones
G.C.S.E (A poem about teaching drama in an inner London secondary school) 
by Emma Jones

Miss you're always on about GCSEs 
Oh gosh, you should allow it Miss please
It just seems so singular 
There's more important fings you knaa

Cause oh my days Miss, did I mention?
That thing on her head looked flammable
It was like a dead flippin' animal!
I lie? True say I don't chat shit
It wasn't a weave it was more like a thatch, yeah? 

Miss! I gotta GCSE!
I've got to Get to the Chicken Shop... Early!
I promised Devontae I'd buy him some hot wings
And Miss I've got to cause he's such a hot ting
I'm gonna meet wiv him, eat wiv him, maybe later b...
Anyway  Miss, I've gotta boost fam!
N Don't cut your eyes at me cause that's the truth man!

I've got to Get to College Somewhere Eventually
and I've got to Get my Core Subjects like English
And I've got to Get my Coursework Sent to the Examiners
Miister Manufor told me dis dis morning, 
And Miss! I can't just ignore him
And no disrespect Miss, 
And don't get vexed Miss, but: 
It's just drama. It's just drama. 

Miss I've gotta GCSE!
Gotta get Chung for the Shubs this Eve! 
I'm gonna look swaggalicious all in purple
I can't stay for no after school rehearsal 
And anyway 
I don't like this play;
It's... Gay.....

Miss you're always on about GCSEs 
Oh gosh, you should allow it Miss please
It just seems so singular 
There's more important fings you knaa!

©  Emma Jones

The GLAM SLAM UK is BACK in 2011!

Tues 28 June 2011, 7:30pm, The Book Club,  Shoreditch 
(History of the Glam Slam in the UK: 2008-2010)

The GLAM SLAM is a poetry competition in 2 rounds:
  • A First Round with 4 Competing Categories (2011: LOSS- WORK - LUST - WIG).
  • Followed by a Grand Final on the night, with a £100 Grand Prize for the BEST VERBAL VOGUE!
Read the RULES of the competition here.
Also: non-competitive open mic slots 

Featured poets
from NYC, USA: EMANUEL XAVIER (founder of the original Glam Slam!)
from Scotland: CHRIS YOUNG (winner of last year's Glam Slam!)
from N. Ireland: CAT BROGAN (making her first appearance at the Glam Slam!)

DJ: Sina Evil
Host: Ernesto Sarezale

Wednesday, 23 March 2011

2011: Glam Slam RULES

A poetry slam is a spoken word competition where participants read, recite or perform original material and are then judged on a numeric scale by selected members of the audience.

Here we are 'glamming it up' a little bit.

The GLAM SLAM will consist of 2 rounds on the night: a first round with 4 competing categories (see below), followed by a Grand Final in the second round, where a cash prize (£100) is up for grabs.


Each contestant gets up to 3 minutes to share original spoken word material featuring the required props within each category.

Each contestant can enter one category only.

The winner in each category must be prepared to read a second piece to compete for the Grand Final.  Repeat poems are not allowed. The poems in the Grand Final can be on any topic and in any style. 


LOSS - a poem about loss
wearing BLUE

WORK - employment-related poem in OCCUPATIONAL GEAR...., about any job - not necessarily one's everyday job, but words and attire must be related 

LUST - an erotic poem in sexy UNDERWEAR, LINGERIE, OR LESS

WIG-A-POEM - a poem about any subject, but you must wear a WIG, which will complement and accessorize your words


A group of independent judges from the audience score each contestant from 0 to 10 based on poetry and performance.

The poet with the highest score in each of the four open categories receives a trophy and competes, in the second round, for a Grand Prize (£100) .


For those who are not competitively inclined but still want to present their work, there will be a few non-competitive floor spots.

TO PARTICIPATE (in either the slam or the open mic):

Sign up on the night (between 7.30-8.00pm) or contact Ernesto on this myspace or by email:

"Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am!"
"Glam   Slam, thank you, ma'am..."

2011: Competing Categories

In 2011, we resurrect the most popular competing categories from the last 3 years: 

LOSS poem - in BLUE
(Competing poets must be wearing at least one essential item featuring the color blue and read a poem about loss)

(Competing poets must read an employment-related poem - about any job, not necessarily one's everyday job, but words and attire must be related)

(Competing poets must read an erotic poem in sexy underwear, lingerie, or less - nudity & sexy props more than welcome)

WIG-a-poem - wearing a WIG
(Competing poets must feature a fabulous wig while reading a poem about any topic)

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Press & Testimonials

Things people are saying about Glam Slam UK: 

"It was an interesting night...some madness, some interesting performances, some special words, some bizarre sentences, the brilliant drag king and lots of good vibes." 

"What an amazing show U put together. What a fantastic collection of talent! And freaks! It had so much color & energy - the "no props" rule in slams has got to go! WE NEED PROPS! What a tremendous honor to be part of it." 

"Well done on a great night! Who'd have thought slams could be so entertaining?" 

"Thanks to Ernesto for organising and hosting a great evening of words, performance, dress up and general randomness" 

"The best slam in London." 

Thursday, 10 March 2011

Winning Poems 2010

Winner:  Chris Young
Poems: "Layers" & "He likes..." in the BODY Category and  "Rites of Passage #2" in the GRAND FINAL

BODY Category:
As I get undressed
And take off my clothes,
I dream it is your fingers unbuttoning my shirt,
Unbuckling my belt, removing the hurt
Of loves and loathes.
As I get undressed
And strip to the skin,
I dream it is your hand lingering on my chest,
Dwelling in my briefs, abiding in the best
Of what’s within.

© Chris Young

He likes…

I stroke his hair.
“I’ve not scared you then?” I ask – “Yet”.
He looks up and smiles.
“I like your company” he says.
“I like your cock.”
I have to kiss him.
Never did Dundonian sound so erotic.
I want to take the words out of his mouth
And swallow them whole.
I want to breathe in the sound.
He likes my company!
There is nothing wrong with him.
He is what I want right now
And he likes my company!
Face to face,
I taste the new taste of us
As I lose myself to my senses.
He likes my company!
Only his tongue suppresses the words I want to say.
He returns to his task.
He licks my balls.
He licks my cock.
He likes my cock.
He likes my cock!
My God, he likes my cock!
And I like that.
I look down with envy:
He likes my cock;
I want him to like me that much.
I am liquefied by his smile
And in my solid state sublime.
He likes my cock!
He – likes – my – cock!
He likes my… company!

© Chris Young
GRAND Final:
"Rites of Passage #2" by Chris Young

Rites of Passage #2

I have a confession to make:
I am not the man of experience I appear to be. 
I am still, at least in one sense, a virgin.
No, I’ve never been fucked up the arse. 
Now, those who know me might think I make an arse of myself on a regular basis –
Duh! –
But I’ve not succeeded in making my arse
Allow someone else
His rite of passage.
Don’t get me wrong; I’ve tried to open wide
And provide a ride with glide,
Let my lover slide inside. 
But I’ve always dried –
I cannot be pried open.
Yes, I lube his tube
From pubes to tip,
But there’s still too much grip;
It just won’t slip.
Gentlemen, may I have a word? 
If you’re intending to penetrate the mysteries
Of the holy of holies,
Proceed with caution and respect –
Preferably erect –
So you’re not trying to ram the thing in with aimless enthusiasm. 
But, before you even get that far,
May I suggest foreplay? 
Gentle fingering – an hour or two should do –
Something to build both lust and trust
Before you thrust. 
And you must
Ask permission first. 
It is simply rude to intrude
And, if you do, you will be roughly refused,
Possibly bruised.
You see,
I’ve seen from the smiles on well-served faces,
I’ve heard from happy screams
Maybe it’s my fault. 
Maybe I’m just too gorgeous. 
Maybe my arse looks too fillable
And its prospective contents too spillable. 
Or maybe it’s my fault because my eyes are bigger than my arse,
Because the guys that really do it for me
Are huge –
Thicker than my wrist, if you get my gist –
And to get their jism
Into my love tunnel
Would require a funnel.
It’s funny how tantalising some lump of tumescent flesh is;
But we know we wants it – it is the precious
And we longs to unlock the magic of the ring.
Perhaps my quest towards adulthood will not be complete
Until that fellowship has broken me in. 
But, for now, I’m taking a break:
The next man to attempt my treacherous passage
Will be Mr. Right.

© Chris Young