Posts Tagged ‘London’

Milk it

Another desperate few days for the LibCon pantomime.  Firstly one of their own, backbencher Nadine Dorries, described Cam/Os as “two posh boys who don’t know the price of a pint of milk” and then they took a hammering in the local elections as voters turned on them.  Cam/Os quoted the inevitable “mid-term blues factor”, low turnout and upset with the economy as the reasons behind their beating but it is clear that the people are not too happy with the boys. Cam felt the need to throw his celebratory weight behind the womanising buffoon Boris Johnson who had narrowly beaten Red Ken in the London Mayoral race.  The Etonian mafia must by now be getting the message that they are out of touch and very nearly out of time.  The roots of this useless Government go back, unfortunately, to one Tony Blair.  Good old “Tone” (man of the people) shafted the Labour Party when he left the strange Gordon Brown in charge as he rode off into the sunset to claim his enormous speech-giving royalties.  Gordon gave a cameo performance as a bumbling, angry, slightly autistic Scottish fun-denier and left the country with no option but to plump for the Etonian cabal.  The fact that Cam felt the need to wangle himself onto the BBC and tell the nation where and when he did his shopping and that, au contraire, he did know the price of a pinta, shows just how desperate he and his out-of-touch bunch are becoming.

Art for art’s sake, money for God’s sake

I see that Damien Hirst has an exhibition on at the Tate Modern at the moment.  Sheep in preservative, sawn up bovines and crystal skulls; all the usual stuff.  Why is this Modern Art lark so hard to get a handle on?  I can appreciate a great song, a well-written book, a “classic” movie, a painting and even mime.  Well, perhaps not mime but at least I get the artistic intent and the skill that goes into the silent prancing around.  Hirst and that other modern “great”, Tracy Emin, just leave me a bit puzzled to be honest.  Is their work “art” because they profess it to be?  Or because the art critics say it is?  Would we be able to claim such intent if we stitched the names of former lovers onto a tent a la Ms Emin?  Is it a state of mind?  Or, as I suspect, do you have to have studied art in order to be taken seriously by the modern art aficionados?  You must, at the very least, carry yourself with a sense of utmost seriousness and dress somewhat provocatively to display your inner artistic “otherness” and the immense importance of your, ahem, “work”.  At the risk of being considered naive, it all feels a little Emperor New Clothes- ish.  Are we all the dupes in some sort of (very well played out) con?  The Con is conducted in “edgy” London boroughs like Hoxton and Shoreditch; all goatee beards, skinny jeans and “statement” headwear.  If we are in any way the victims in some almighty hoodwinking trick our number does not include the aforementioned Mr Hirst; his Crystal Skull was recently valued at fifty million pounds.