A love poem for lonely prime numbers

My name is Harry Baker.
Harry Baker is my name.

If your name was Harry Baker,
then our names would be the same.

(Laughter)

It's a short introductory part.

Yeah, I'm Harry.

I study math. I write poetry.

So I thought I'd start
with a love poem about prime numbers.

(Laughter)

This is called "59."

I was going to call it
"Prime Time Loving."

That reaction is why I didn't.

(Laughter)

So, "59."

59 wakes up
on the wrong side of the bed,

Realises all of his hair is on
one side of his head,

Takes – just under a minute – to work out
it’s because of the way that he slept,

He finds some clothes and gets dressed.

He can’t help but look in the mirror
and be subtly impressed

How he looks rough around the edges
and yet casually messed,

and as he glances out the windows,
he sees the sight that he gets blessed

with a 60 from across the street.

Now 60 was beautiful,

With perfectly trimmed cuticles,
Dressed in something suitable,

Never rude or crude at all.
Unimprovable,

Right on time as usual,
More on cue than a snooker ball

But liked to play it super cool.

59 wanted to tell her
that he knew her favourite flower,

He thought of her every second
every minute every hour,

But he knew it wouldn’t work,
he’d never get the girl,

Because although she lived across the street
they came from different worlds.

While 59 admired 60’s
‘perfectly round’ figure,

60 thought 59 was… odd.

One of his favourite films
was 101 Dalmatians,

She preferred the sequel.

He romanticised the idea
they were star-crossed lovers,

They could go against the odds
and evens because they had each other,

While she maintained the strict views
imposed upon her by her mother

That separate could not be equal.

And though at the time he felt
stupid and dumb

For trying to love a girl controlled
by her stupid mum,

He should have been comforted
by the simple sum –

Take 59 away from 60,
and you’re left with the one.

Sure enough it took him 2 months
of moping around,

But 61 days later,
61 was who he found,

His next-door neighbour,
he went round to her house,

Because he had lost his keys again
and his parents were out.

As he noticed the slightly wonky
numbers on the door,

He wondered why he’d never
introduced himself before,

As she politely let him in
his jaw dropped in awe –

61 was like 60, with a little bit more.
(Laughter)

She had prettier eyes,
and an approachable smile,

And like him, rough-around-the-edges casual style,

And like him, everything
was in disorganise piles,

And like him, her mum didn’t mind
if friends stayed a while.

Because she was like him, and he liked her.

He reckoned she would like me
if she knew he was like her,

And it was different this time.
I mean, this girl was wicked,

So he plucked up the courage
and asked for her digits.

She said, "I'm 61."
He grinned, said, "I'm 59."

Today I’ve had a really nice time,

So tomorrow if you wanted
you could come over to mine?

She said, "Sure."

She loved talking to someone
who was just as quirky,

She agreed to this unofficial first date.

In the end he was only
ready one minute early,

But it didn’t matter because
she arrived one minute late.

And from that moment on
there was non-stop chatter,

How they loved X-Factor,
how they had two factors,

How that did not matter –
distinctiveness made them better,

By the end of the night they knew
they were meant together.

And one day she was talking
about ‘stuck up 60’,

She noticed that 59 looked a bit shifty.

He blushed – told her of his crush:

“The best thing that never happened,
because it led to us”

61 was clever see,
not prone to jealousy,

She looked him in the eyes
and told him quite tenderly,

You’re 59 I’m 61 together we combine
to become twice what 60 could ever be.

(Laughter)

At this point 59 had tears in his eyes,

Was so glad to have
this one-of-a-kind girl in his life.

He told her the very
definition of being prime

Was that with only one
and himself could his heart divide,

And she was the one he felt
he could give his heart to,

She said she felt the same
and now she knew the films were half true.

Because that wasn't real love,
that love was just a sample,

Because when it came to real love,
they were a prime example.

Cheers.

(Applause)

That was the first poem that I wrote

and it was for
a prime number-themed poetry night.

-- (Laughter) --

which turned out to be
a prime number-themed poetry competition.

And I became a prime number-themed
poetry competition winner,

or as I like to call it,
a prime minister. (Laughter)

And this is how I discovered
these things called poetry slams,

and if you don't know what
a poetry slam is,

it was a format come up with
in America 30 years ago

as a way of tricking people
into going to poetry events

by putting an exciting word
like "slam" onto the end.

(Laughter)

And each performer got three minutes
to perform and then

random audience members
would hold up scorecards,

and they would end up
with a numerical score,

and what this meant is,

it kind of broke down the barrier
between performer and audience

and encouraged the kind
of connection with the listener.

And what it also means is you can win.

And if you win a poetry slam,
you can call yourself a slam champion

and pretend you're a wrestler,

and if you lose a poetry slam you can say,
"Oh, what, poetry's a subjective art form,

you can't put numbers on such things."

(Laughter)

But I loved it, and I
got involved in these slams,

and I became the U.K. slam champion

and got invited to
the Poetry World Cup in Paris,

which was unbelievable.

It was people from all around the world
speaking in their native languages

to be judged by five French strangers.

(Laughter)

And somehow, I won, which was great,

and I've been able
to travel the world since doing it,

but it also means that this next piece

is technically the best poem in the world.

(Laughter)

So...

(Applause)

According to five French strangers.

So this is "Paper People."

I like people.

I'd like some paper people.

They’d be purple paper people.
Maybe pop up purple paper people.

Proper pop up purple paper people.

‘How do you prop up
pop up purple paper people?’

I hear you cry. Well I…

I’d probably prop up proper
pop up purple paper people

with a proper pop up
purple people paperclip,

but I’d pre-prepare appropriate
adhesives as alternatives,

a cheeky pack of blu tack
just in case the paper slipped.

Because I could build a pop up metropolis.

but i wouldn’t wanna deal
with all the paper people politics.

paper politicians
with their paper-thin policies,

broken promises
without appropriate apologies.

there’d be a little paper me,
and a little paper you,

and we’d watch paper TV
and it would all be paper view. (Laughter)

we’d watch the poppy paper rappers
rap about their paper package

or watch paper people carriers
get stuck in paper traffic on the A4.

Paper. (Laughter)

There’d be a paper princess Kate
but we’d all stare at paper Pippa,

and then we’d all live in fear
of killer Jack the paper ripper.

because the paper propaganda
propagates the peoples prejudices,

papers printing pictures
of the photogenic terrorists.

There’d be a little paper me,
and a little paper you,

but in a pop up population
people’s problems pop up too.

there’d be a pompous paper parliament
who remained out of touch,

and who ignored the peoples protests
about all the paper cuts,

and then the peaceful paper protests
would get blown to paper pieces,

by the confetti cannons
manned by pre-emptive police.

and yes there’s still be paper money,
so there’d still be paper greed,

and the paper piggy bankers
pocketing more than they need.

purchasing the potpourri
to pepper their paper properties,

while others live in poverty
and ain’t acknowledged properly,

a proper poor economy
where so many are proper poor,

but while their needs are ignored
the money goes to big wars,

origami armies unfold
plans for paper planes

while we remain imprisoned
in our own paper chains,

but the greater shame
is that it always seems to stay the same,

what changes is who’s in power
choosing how to lay the blame,

they’re naming names,
forgetting these are names of people,

cause in the end
it all comes down to people.

I like people.

cause even when the situation’s dire,
it is only ever people

who are able to inspire, and on paper –

it’s hard to see how we all cope,

but in the bottom of pandora’s box
there’s still hope,

and i still hope cause i
believe in people.