My name is Harry Baker. Harry Baker is my name.
If your name was Harry Baker, then our names would be the same.
(Laughter)
It's a short introductory part.
Yeah, I'm Harry.
I study math. I write poetry.
So I thought I'd start with a love poem about prime numbers.
(Laughter)
This is called "59."
I was going to call it "Prime Time Loving."
That reaction is why I didn't.
(Laughter)
So, "59."
59 wakes up on the wrong side of the bed,
Realises all of his hair is on one side of his head,
Takes – just under a minute – to work out it’s because of the way that he slept,
He finds some clothes and gets dressed.
He can’t help but look in the mirror and be subtly impressed
How he looks rough around the edges and yet casually messed,
and as he glances out the windows, he sees the sight that he gets blessed
with a 60 from across the street.
Now 60 was beautiful,
With perfectly trimmed cuticles, Dressed in something suitable,
Never rude or crude at all. Unimprovable,
Right on time as usual, More on cue than a snooker ball
But liked to play it super cool.
59 wanted to tell her that he knew her favourite flower,
He thought of her every second every minute every hour,
But he knew it wouldn’t work, he’d never get the girl,
Because although she lived across the street they came from different worlds.
While 59 admired 60’s ‘perfectly round’ figure,
60 thought 59 was… odd.
One of his favourite films was 101 Dalmatians,
She preferred the sequel.
He romanticised the idea they were star-crossed lovers,
They could go against the odds and evens because they had each other,
While she maintained the strict views imposed upon her by her mother
That separate could not be equal.
And though at the time he felt stupid and dumb
For trying to love a girl controlled by her stupid mum,
He should have been comforted by the simple sum –
Take 59 away from 60, and you’re left with the one.
Sure enough it took him 2 months of moping around,
But 61 days later, 61 was who he found,
His next-door neighbour, he went round to her house,
Because he had lost his keys again and his parents were out.
As he noticed the slightly wonky numbers on the door,
He wondered why he’d never introduced himself before,
As she politely let him in his jaw dropped in awe –
61 was like 60, with a little bit more. (Laughter)
She had prettier eyes, and an approachable smile,
And like him, rough-around-the-edges casual style,
And like him, everything was in disorganise piles,
And like him, her mum didn’t mind if friends stayed a while.
Because she was like him, and he liked her.
He reckoned she would like me if she knew he was like her,
And it was different this time. I mean, this girl was wicked,
So he plucked up the courage and asked for her digits.
She said, "I'm 61." He grinned, said, "I'm 59."
Today I’ve had a really nice time,
So tomorrow if you wanted you could come over to mine?
She said, "Sure."
She loved talking to someone who was just as quirky,
She agreed to this unofficial first date.
In the end he was only ready one minute early,
But it didn’t matter because she arrived one minute late.
And from that moment on there was non-stop chatter,
How they loved X-Factor, how they had two factors,
How that did not matter – distinctiveness made them better,
By the end of the night they knew they were meant together.
And one day she was talking about ‘stuck up 60’,
She noticed that 59 looked a bit shifty.
He blushed – told her of his crush:
“The best thing that never happened, because it led to us”
61 was clever see, not prone to jealousy,
She looked him in the eyes and told him quite tenderly,
You’re 59 I’m 61 together we combine to become twice what 60 could ever be.
(Laughter)
At this point 59 had tears in his eyes,
Was so glad to have this one-of-a-kind girl in his life.
He told her the very definition of being prime
Was that with only one and himself could his heart divide,
And she was the one he felt he could give his heart to,
She said she felt the same and now she knew the films were half true.
Because that wasn't real love, that love was just a sample,
Because when it came to real love, they were a prime example.
Cheers.
(Applause)
That was the first poem that I wrote
and it was for a prime number-themed poetry night.
-- (Laughter) --
which turned out to be a prime number-themed poetry competition.
And I became a prime number-themed poetry competition winner,
or as I like to call it, a prime minister. (Laughter)
And this is how I discovered these things called poetry slams,
and if you don't know what a poetry slam is,
it was a format come up with in America 30 years ago
as a way of tricking people into going to poetry events
by putting an exciting word like "slam" onto the end.
(Laughter)
And each performer got three minutes to perform and then
random audience members would hold up scorecards,
and they would end up with a numerical score,
and what this meant is,
it kind of broke down the barrier between performer and audience
and encouraged the kind of connection with the listener.
And what it also means is you can win.
And if you win a poetry slam, you can call yourself a slam champion
and pretend you're a wrestler,
and if you lose a poetry slam you can say, "Oh, what, poetry's a subjective art form,
you can't put numbers on such things."
(Laughter)
But I loved it, and I got involved in these slams,
and I became the U.K. slam champion
and got invited to the Poetry World Cup in Paris,
which was unbelievable.
It was people from all around the world speaking in their native languages
to be judged by five French strangers.
(Laughter)
And somehow, I won, which was great,
and I've been able to travel the world since doing it,
but it also means that this next piece
is technically the best poem in the world.
(Laughter)
So...
(Applause)
According to five French strangers.
So this is "Paper People."
I like people.
I'd like some paper people.
They’d be purple paper people. Maybe pop up purple paper people.
Proper pop up purple paper people.
‘How do you prop up pop up purple paper people?’
I hear you cry. Well I…
I’d probably prop up proper pop up purple paper people
with a proper pop up purple people paperclip,
but I’d pre-prepare appropriate adhesives as alternatives,
a cheeky pack of blu tack just in case the paper slipped.
Because I could build a pop up metropolis.
but i wouldn’t wanna deal with all the paper people politics.
paper politicians with their paper-thin policies,
broken promises without appropriate apologies.
there’d be a little paper me, and a little paper you,
and we’d watch paper TV and it would all be paper view. (Laughter)
we’d watch the poppy paper rappers rap about their paper package
or watch paper people carriers get stuck in paper traffic on the A4.
Paper. (Laughter)
There’d be a paper princess Kate but we’d all stare at paper Pippa,
and then we’d all live in fear of killer Jack the paper ripper.
because the paper propaganda propagates the peoples prejudices,
papers printing pictures of the photogenic terrorists.
There’d be a little paper me, and a little paper you,
but in a pop up population people’s problems pop up too.
there’d be a pompous paper parliament who remained out of touch,
and who ignored the peoples protests about all the paper cuts,
and then the peaceful paper protests would get blown to paper pieces,
by the confetti cannons manned by pre-emptive police.
and yes there’s still be paper money, so there’d still be paper greed,
and the paper piggy bankers pocketing more than they need.
purchasing the potpourri to pepper their paper properties,
while others live in poverty and ain’t acknowledged properly,
a proper poor economy where so many are proper poor,
but while their needs are ignored the money goes to big wars,
origami armies unfold plans for paper planes
while we remain imprisoned in our own paper chains,
but the greater shame is that it always seems to stay the same,
what changes is who’s in power choosing how to lay the blame,
they’re naming names, forgetting these are names of people,
cause in the end it all comes down to people.
I like people.
cause even when the situation’s dire, it is only ever people
who are able to inspire, and on paper –
it’s hard to see how we all cope,
but in the bottom of pandora’s box there’s still hope,
and i still hope cause i believe in people.