A key scene in Andrew Kötting’s delightfully barmy meditation on John Clare - once an obscure 19th century poet, now rated among the eternals – finds Iain Sinclair, veteran psychogeographer of East London, and Alan Moore, seer of Northampton, discussing this and that on a quiet park bench. (Sinclair has tipped his goat mask to the back of his head.) To a small core of cultish enthusiasts for stories of a concealed England, this will be more of draw than any footage of Matt Damon fighting Martian tempests.

Sinclair and Kötting's last visit to domestic cinemas was for Swandown, in which they took a swan pedalo from Hastings to the Olympic park in Hackney. The new project (funded by Kickstarter) is at least as eccentric, but it has a more ordered purpose. The phrase "John Clare is a minor nature poet who went mad", spoken in superior voices, appears as an ironic mantra throughout. Clare certainly had mental problems. In 1841, he fled an asylum in Epping Forest and walked all the way to Northampton in search of his love Mary Joyce.

Kötting casts Toby Jones as a version of Clare and invites the actor to tramp the route for our entertainment. In 21st-century England, he encounters level crossings, endless traffic and the odd confused pensioner. “That’s not John Clare,” an impressive geezer bellows at one point. Sinclair follows in his goat mask. Kötting himself appears dressed as sort of straw bear. Delicious readings from Freddie Jones, Toby’s distinguished father, add lustre to the package.

At the end we learn that some of that audio is drawn from a BBC Omnibus film on Clare from 1970. Isn't that interesting? There are distinct reminders of Ken Russell's daft episodes of that arts strand in By Our Selves, but Kötting's witchy visuals and Sinclair's erudite musings are mad in utterly singular fashions. Those who enjoy The Incredible String Band, Michael Moorcock, A Field in England and John Cowper Powys will understand. Others will (quite reasonably) find the whole thing too infuriating for words. I adored it.