I have to confess to something. I’m a bit of a philistine now and then. One thing that brings out this trait is a great deal of modern art. Damien Hirst has made a fortune by gulling the gullible with his stupid pickled sharks and half a sheep. Mind you, he took a lot of cash off a Saatchi, so he’s not all bad.

It says a lot about Dammo that he used to share a flat with another blithering idiot, Marc Quinn, who made casts of his own head using his own blood. I’d like to meet the medic that agreed to that piece of lunacy and extracted the blood from him. I bet the local Ethics Committee have some views on it as well.

Then there’s the ageing enfant terrible of the modern art world. I refer of course to Tracey Emin. This poser also made a fortune, much of it on the back of her absurdly pointless ‘work’ My Bed. She rumpled up the bedclothes on a piece of domestic furniture, scattered a few used condoms around, and people with a lot more money than sense, or indeed than taste, beat a path to her door. Money for old rope.bed

However, this narcissistic artist, and I use the term loosely, has beaten all comers to win the treasured ‘I’m more pretentious than anybody else is’ award. She’s married a rock. Yes, she’s been joined in holy matrimony with a large stone in her garden at her house in France.

It gets worse, if you can imagine that. The quotes are hers, and the responses to these bits of twaddle are mine in an imagined conversation I’d just love to have with her.

TE ‘It’s very nice and very impressive.’

Me ‘Tracey, it’s a rock. Get over yourself.’

TE ‘The other thing about the stone is that it could be quite monstrous and scary.’

Me ‘Tracey, it’s a rock. Get over yourself.’

‘I saw it as a protection thing.’

Me ‘Tracey, it’s a f****** ROCK! Get over yourself, you pretentious cow!’

The world is going to hell in a handcart, and this attention-seeking poseuse has married a rock. I despair.

Did I mention that Quinn’s frozen head melted when the idiot switched off the fridge by accident? That must have been a bastard of a job to clean up after.

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