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It's A Beautiful World 034/END

The Kin

This is the last one of a nonsensical yet selfishly requisite series of drawings and paintings as an attempt to make something rudely ravishing. I really don't know where they come from but I love to do them.

Next is a series of more drawings, some older, some new, entitled I Don't Know But It Makes Sense To Do Things Otherwise Insanity Could Be An Unwelcome Houseguest. From now on these will collectively be known as I D K B I M S T D T O I C B A U H.

Cocaine in the Church

This strangely Dalstonian story is apparently and allegedly true according to my neighbour. During midnight mass on Christmas Eve, two twitching ne'er-do-wells moved from the fairly empty pews up the front and close to the pious yet indecipherable priest and moved to the pews on the side down the back. My neighbour ("I'm a nosy cow") was curious and kept copping a glance at the quiet activity taking place behind her. She reported that the two men were hunched over making circular motions with their hands and then licking their fingers, smiling and nodding at each other. There followed the rustling sound of money changing hands. She caught a flash of a mirror as it was replaced in the pocket when they stood up and returned grinning madly to their original seats. No batted an eyelid. Recently the police had a bit of a try in controlling the business in dealer's flats in my street and it seemed to be successful after witnessing at least a dozen grimy folk being led out cuffed and shouting obscenities at the coppers. The rozzers gave as good as they got; the force have definitely moved on from the platitudes of Dixon of Dock Green even though, personally, I miss the politeness. In fact, I miss politeness everywhere but that's another blog.

You've got to hand it to the dealers' fortitude to use A House Of God to deal drugs but I feel I must inform the vicar of this disturbing news as he's such a nice man and it would be scandalous and tragic if he somehow was found in any way responsible - not his fault; drug dealers and addicts have an extraordinary iron-will when it comes to  supply and demand.

Trouble is, I can't stop laughing about it. It's a church for God's sake.

AD-VENT 24/12/2011

Hello, Jesus

AD-VENT 23/12/2011

Hapless Christmas at The Sheraton

AD-VENT 22/12/2011

Christmas Landscape

AD-VENT 21/12/2011

Christmas Shopping 

AD-VENT 20/12/2011

AD-VENT 19/12/2011

London Shopper.

AD-VENT 18/12/2011

Armani/Jesus

AD-VENT 17/12/2011

CHRISTMAS.

There's been a gap in my indispensable blog; my excuse is below.

I couldn't be arsed to get any further with the ad-vent project due the Black Dog arriving because of  witnessing the seething masses duped by corporate greed, the family-based guilt of it all, hollering tv adverts (especially the perfume and supermarket ones - I shudder every time they're on), the stupid packaging - imagine the landfill, the pressure of of excessive cretin-card use, packed supermarkets, celebs wheeled out onto tinselly tv game shows for absolutely no reason, the packs of rabid, drunk-out-their-minds, chlamydia-ridden office workers vomiting, shouting and pissing in the street, the panic buying, the religion and the pure, bewildering ugliness of it all. 

I must admit, though, that I did slip over in the drizzly early hours of Soho, slightly worse for wear after my studio party, only to be helped to my feet by a prostitute who proceeded to pickpocket my cards, cash and dignity, but I still had the nous to pickpocket her back, so that was OK then; it was my Christmas present to myself. She said "Oi! Wotchcoo fink you is doin'?"
I said "getting my money and cards you just took off me, you terrible, terrible whore."
A pause, then: "well, nah you got your money back, jew fancy goin' somewhere?"

Secular paradise next year anyone?

Merry Christmas to one and all!

AD-VENT 03/12/2011

Bollocks to it all.

AD-VENT 02/12/2011

AD-VENT 01/12/2011

Argos.