WEBVTT

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My name is Harry Baker.
Harry Baker is my name.

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If your name was Harry Baker,
then our names would be the same.

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(Laughter)

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It's a short introductory part.

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Yeah, I'm Harry.

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I study math. I write poetry.

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So I thought I'd start
with a love poem about prime numbers.

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(Laughter)

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This is called "59."

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I was going to call it
"Prime Time Loving."

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That reaction is why I didn't.

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(Laughter)

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So, "59."

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59 wakes up
on the wrong side of the bed,

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Realises all of his hair is on
one side of his head,

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Takes – just under a minute – to work out
it’s because of the way that he slept,


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He finds some clothes and gets dressed.

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He can’t help but look in the mirror
and be subtly impressed

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How he looks rough around the edges
and yet casually messed,

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and as he glances out the windows,
he sees the sight that he gets blessed

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with a 60 from across the street.

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Now 60 was beautiful,

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With perfectly trimmed cuticles,
Dressed in something suitable,

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Never rude or crude at all.
Unimprovable,

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Right on time as usual,
More on cue than a snooker ball

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But liked to play it super cool.


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59 wanted to tell her
that he knew her favourite flower,

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He thought of her every second
every minute every hour,

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But he knew it wouldn’t work,
he’d never get the girl,

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Because although she lived across the street 
they came from different worlds.

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While 59 admired 60’s
‘perfectly round’ figure,

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60 thought 59 was… odd.

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One of his favourite films
was 101 Dalmatians,

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She preferred the sequel.

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He romanticised the idea
they were star-crossed lovers,

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They could go against the odds
and evens because they had each other,

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While she maintained the strict views
imposed upon her by her mother

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That separate could not be equal.

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And though at the time he felt
stupid and dumb

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For trying to love a girl controlled
by her stupid mum,

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He should have been comforted
by the simple sum –

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Take 59 away from 60,
and you’re left with the one.

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Sure enough it took him 2 months
of moping around,

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But 61 days later,
61 was who he found,

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His next-door neighbour,
he went round to her house,

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Because he had lost his keys again
and his parents were out.


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As he noticed the slightly wonky
numbers on the door,

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He wondered why he’d never
introduced himself before,

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As she politely let him in
his jaw dropped in awe –

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61 was like 60, with a little bit more.
(Laughter)

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She had prettier eyes,
and an approachable smile,

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And like him, rough-around-the-edges casual style,

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And like him, everything
was in disorganise piles,

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And like him, her mum didn’t mind
if friends stayed a while.

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Because she was like him, and he liked her.

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He reckoned she would like me
if she knew he was like her,

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And it was different this time.
I mean, this girl was wicked,

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So he plucked up the courage
and asked for her digits.


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She said, "I'm 61."
He grinned, said, "I'm 59."

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Today I’ve had a really nice time,

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So tomorrow if you wanted
you could come over to mine?

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She said, "Sure."

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She loved talking to someone
who was just as quirky,

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She agreed to this unofficial first date.

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In the end he was only
ready one minute early,

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But it didn’t matter because
she arrived one minute late.

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And from that moment on
there was non-stop chatter,

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How they loved X-Factor,
how they had two factors,

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How that did not matter –
distinctiveness made them better,

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By the end of the night they knew
they were meant together.

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And one day she was talking
about ‘stuck up 60’,

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She noticed that 59 looked a bit shifty.

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He blushed – told her of his crush:

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“The best thing that never happened,
because it led to us”

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61 was clever see,
not prone to jealousy,

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She looked him in the eyes
and told him quite tenderly,

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You’re 59 I’m 61 together we combine
to become twice what 60 could ever be.

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(Laughter)

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At this point 59 had tears in his eyes,

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Was so glad to have
this one-of-a-kind girl in his life.

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He told her the very
definition of being prime

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Was that with only one
and himself could his heart divide,

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And she was the one he felt
he could give his heart to,

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She said she felt the same
and now she knew the films were half true.

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Because that wasn't real love,
that love was just a sample,

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Because when it came to real love,
they were a prime example.

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Cheers.

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(Applause)

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That was the first poem that I wrote

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and it was for
a prime number-themed poetry night.

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-- (Laughter) --

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which turned out to be
a prime number-themed poetry competition.

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And I became a prime number-themed
poetry competition winner,

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or as I like to call it,
a prime minister. (Laughter)

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And this is how I discovered
these things called poetry slams,

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and if you don't know what
a poetry slam is,

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it was a format come up with
in America 30 years ago

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as a way of tricking people
into going to poetry events

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by putting an exciting word
like "slam" onto the end.

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(Laughter)

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And each performer got three minutes
to perform and then

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random audience members
would hold up scorecards,

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and they would end up
with a numerical score,

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and what this meant is,

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it kind of broke down the barrier
between performer and audience

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and encouraged the kind
of connection with the listener.

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And what it also means is you can win.

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And if you win a poetry slam,
you can call yourself a slam champion

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and pretend you're a wrestler,

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and if you lose a poetry slam you can say,
"Oh, what, poetry's a subjective art form,

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you can't put numbers on such things."

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(Laughter)

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But I loved it, and I
got involved in these slams,

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and I became the U.K. slam champion

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and got invited to
the Poetry World Cup in Paris,

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which was unbelievable.

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It was people from all around the world
speaking in their native languages

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to be judged by five French strangers.

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(Laughter)

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And somehow, I won, which was great,

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and I've been able
to travel the world since doing it,

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but it also means that this next piece

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is technically the best poem in the world.

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(Laughter)

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So...

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(Applause)

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According to five French strangers.

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So this is "Paper People."

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I like people.

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I'd like some paper people.

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They’d be purple paper people.
Maybe pop up purple paper people.

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Proper pop up purple paper people.

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‘How do you prop up
pop up purple paper people?’

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I hear you cry. Well I…

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I’d probably prop up proper
pop up purple paper people

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with a proper pop up
purple people paperclip,

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but I’d pre-prepare appropriate
adhesives as alternatives,

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a cheeky pack of blu tack
just in case the paper slipped.

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Because I could build a pop up metropolis.


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but i wouldn’t wanna deal
with all the paper people politics.

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paper politicians
with their paper-thin policies,

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broken promises
without appropriate apologies.

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there’d be a little paper me,
and a little paper you,

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and we’d watch paper TV
and it would all be paper view. (Laughter)

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we’d watch the poppy paper rappers
rap about their paper package

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or watch paper people carriers
get stuck in paper traffic on the A4.

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Paper. (Laughter)

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There’d be a paper princess Kate
but we’d all stare at paper Pippa,

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and then we’d all live in fear
of killer Jack the paper ripper.

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because the paper propaganda
propagates the peoples prejudices,

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papers printing pictures
of the photogenic terrorists.


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There’d be a little paper me,
and a little paper you,

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but in a pop up population
people’s problems pop up too.

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there’d be a pompous paper parliament
who remained out of touch,

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and who ignored the peoples protests
about all the paper cuts,

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and then the peaceful paper protests
would get blown to paper pieces,

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by the confetti cannons
manned by pre-emptive police.

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and yes there’s still be paper money,
so there’d still be paper greed,

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and the paper piggy bankers
pocketing more than they need.

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purchasing the potpourri
to pepper their paper properties,

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while others live in poverty
and ain’t acknowledged properly,

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a proper poor economy
where so many are proper poor,

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but while their needs are ignored
the money goes to big wars,

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origami armies unfold
plans for paper planes

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while we remain imprisoned
in our own paper chains,

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but the greater shame
is that it always seems to stay the same,

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what changes is who’s in power
choosing how to lay the blame,

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they’re naming names,
forgetting these are names of people,

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cause in the end
it all comes down to people.

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I like people.

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cause even when the situation’s dire,
it is only ever people

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who are able to inspire, and on paper –

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it’s hard to see how we all cope,

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but in the bottom of pandora’s box
there’s still hope,

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and i still hope cause i
believe in people.