Scroobius Pip stole my bicycle

Scroobius Pip photographed for the Observer by Antonio Olmos.

I hardly ever remember my dreams, but I still have lucid recall of the time Scroobius Pip stole my bicycle. I was talking to a friend on the street when he seized the bike and ran off. I chased him into the Foundry, a dingy pub in Shoreditch. Inside, I pursued him through a labyrinth of tiny rooms, narrow corridors and crooked staircases. At every corner, I had to elbow my way through crowds of louche hipsters. Even encumbered by my bicycle, Scroobius Pip melted between them like a shadow. I couldn’t catch him, and then he vanished in the dark.

As well as being an expert ethereal bike thief, he is an exceptional performance poet. Here you’ll find him presenting an hour of spoken word on XFM. Quite aside from the tantalising prospect of a solid hour of poetry on mainstream radio, there are some absolute gems in there. It’s worth the time, so put your feet up and bask like a shark through this sea of lyrical genius.

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