How are the New Year Resolutions going? Me too sadly. (They are listed here if you are interested).
I have been thinking about Art. I like paintings. A Man o’War or a dog playing a harp are both to my taste.
Recently I was struggling in the facilities of Liverpool Street Station on account of a “swift half” of twelve pints of Cider.
As I finished my business, I noticed on the cubicle door, a crayon drawing of two men involved in a gymnastic display worthy of Nadia Comaneci (if she was a bloke that is). One of them may have had a beard. Tasteful it most certainly wasn’t.
There was a phone number scrawled beneath the sketch and the phrase “I like cock.”
One word came to mind, Banksy, followed by the old proverb “One Born Every Minute”.
Lucien Croix De Guerre, an Art Dealer in Shoreditch certainly was.
£3,000 he paid me for it.
Strange looks I got walking down Commercial Road with a toilet door under one arm and a copy of The Sun under the other! Lucien reckoned I had invented a new genre. Les Artes de Cottage, he called it.
The door is now hung in the Tate Modern with the title, “The Fallowness Of The Soul” (Yeah, I don’t know either). Turns out the phone number was a Tory MP opposed to Gay Marriage.
Bought my lovely wife Shirley a sitting at the local tattoo parlour with some of the money. Lovely tat of Barack Obama she got. Although it was meant to be Margaret Thatcher. Not the best tattooist. Cheap though. Does a great dagger through the heart. He did mine. Looks alright from a certain angle. Shame he spelled Shirley’s name wrong though. Shirty has a certain ring to it though. Could have been worse.