HOW many times have you been to a gig, only to find yourself straining your ears to hear the support? People are still finding their seats, the bar is more appealing than the name you haven't heard, you've bumped into old friends and it seems like a good time chat.

But when Louise Fazackerley takes the stage at Kendal's Brewery Arts Centre, there is a respectful hush. Maybe it's because it's a poetry gig or maybe it's because they know what's about to happen.

I can imagine few things more daunting than opening a set for John Cooper Clarke. But Fazackerley doesn't seem one bit phased.

A dirty ditty for Jarvis Cocker, lines for the lost girl who finds herself in boxing, equal parts affection and lamentation for her Wigan home street. She gestures and intonates and is every part the 'performer' as she is the 'poet'.

She is the perfect warm-up for JCC, who declares her his 'heroine' and takes the stage to the sort of rapturous applause that you don't expect for a man without a guitar.

And, JCC is, of course, everything you would want him to be. As much a stand-up comedian as he is a political poet, telling old jokes that loyal fans lap up like cream.

As he stands on the stage, hair backcombed within an inch of its life, suit close to his still wiry frame and mouth running at a 100mph, I look at my dear old Mancunian dad who's stood next to me.

My father wears corderoy trousers, he likes a good vintage bottle of red and he gets his hair cut every six weeks, like clockwork. He is not your typical punk poet fan.

But he also grew up in Salford (JCC's from the 'posh' part, Dad insists). Both angry about Thatcher. Both Broughton lads who've 'done good'.

John Cooper Clarke's set is everything you'd want it to be. Full of energy and life and anger.

And I enjoy it, immensely. It whizzes by and everyone wants more, wants to hear their favourite, is thrilled by the chance to collectively shout a swear word and call it art. But what I enjoy more, is getting a glimpse into my dad's home - full of energy and life and anger.