So I said to the Dalai Lama “Come on then. If you want a fight let’s have it!”  He didn’t follow through. He started talking about the peace process in Northern Ireland.  Basically he backed down.  The argument started ’cause he’s on stage in Derry today  and unfortunately for him so am I.   I’ve stolen his audience and he is not happy.   He’s not happy at all.

Forget him. I’m at The Verbal Arts Centre in Derry.  It’s a  a walled city separated by The River Foyle joined by The Peace Bridge.  I bet he does his gig ON the peace bridge. Back to me.  Verbal Arts Centre is built upon the wall.

Last week it was firebombed. It’s a beacon to mercurial unflinching ever-developing language and spoken word.  It swallows firebombs and breaths fire.  I loved reading on stage here. There’s a creative blogger review that begins by  describing me as a  train. Beat that Mr lama.  That’s the blogger and I on the left with the two symbolic chairs. I’ve always loved reading in Northern Ireland. It gives me permission. It gives me enough rope.

The average English person has little  idea of the physical,  psychological and emotional brutality dealt on Northern Ireland. And therefore can never appreciate the brilliance of a people who overcome it and outshine it by far.  I’ve got about ten missed calls from Mr Lama. I’m going to report him.