Watching each of them, however, I was astounded. A shy, tired-looking Bonney metamorphised into an aggressive, snarling ringmaster of his stage, slaying totalitarian men in power with cutting imagery and a rapid pace. Each phrase, each word employed by Bonney sounded tailor-cut for his depiction; I stopped to marvel at his language a few times, only to lose track of where he'd reached in his bullet-train delivery. Whilst Maggie O'Sullivan didn't quite put the world to rights, she was equally as mesmerising: an otherworldly cascade of sounds, words and phrases captivated everyone in the room.
Simon Perril had compared both poets, prior to Bonney's performance, and he had hit the nail on the head for me. Both read utterly stunning poetry with a ferocious passion, and both held their audience in the palms of their hands, with every syllable that trickled from their lips.
One thought flooded my head as I left. What an introduction to the pair of them - and what an experience.