This is a collaboration between poet Hannah Jane Walker and theatre maker Chris Thorpe, set around a long board-meeting table littered with notes scrawled with, no doubt, The Oh F*** Moments of previous audience members. It's an entertaining, moving, and at times repulsive history of mistakes, reminding me of Chris Thorpe's What I Heard About the World in its breadth. From the warming cup of tea, to Thorpe and Walker's friendly open manner, this is an audience participation show for people who don't like audience participation. Like me.

The universality of foolish errors makes it an excellent bonding device, and Thorpe and Walker were always careful to ensure that participation, whether voting on a story, or offering one up, was consensual. Idiosyncratic touches, such as a voting system employing a pencil or a marker-pen (the permanence or not of an Oh F*** Moment being key), added charm to the evening. However, pacing was an issue, with the bulk of these touches taking place in the first half, making the second half seem repetitive and slack in contrast.

Many in the audience had no idea that they were attending an evening of spoken word until Walker announced that she was reading her penultimate poem. One can only approve of such ninja tactics when it comes to broadening audiences, and certainly, there was nothing alienating about the performance or content. As a performance, The Oh F*** Moment is part therapy, part poetry, and the biggest fuck up you can make is to miss it.