At this sold-out annual spoken word event, described by one well-spoken attendee as “the Brighton equivalent of 8 Mile,” there are certain boxes to tick.

Cocky teenage MCs from the Heinz stable, spitting rhymes with ability beyond their years – check.

Eccentrically dressed poets challenging the combative atmosphere with surprisingly moving moments – and one or two criticizing the rappers’ unpolished style with a torrent of finely-honed insults in elevated language – check.

Rappers listing prejudices and stereotypes the audience “probably” hold about them, threatening to steal wallets and hearts, then attacking the opposing team with clichéd disses exactly as predicted – check.

Compere Dizraeli was quick to mediate, chastising the aggressive audience with: “Listen! If the performers say something controversial they’re aware of it and will deal with it, if you give them the head space!”

The MC team’s ringer, Canadian Baba Brinkman, riffed thoughtfully on natural selection before concluding that his performance was a mating display, “giving my genes visibility for females”.

Rosy Carrick, slinky and aloof, relishing her words in deliberately tantalizing style, wrong-footed the MCs by beginning a paean to lesbian lust, but on spotting Nick Cave in the audience felt unable to continue and, instead, shared a literary tribute to her time as his cat-sitter, “forcing meat through his letterbox”.

“That’s about sex too!” howled a frustrated puffa-jacketed figure audience member with an ear for metaphor.

The evening ended with the cheerful conclusion that both sides had a lot in common.