So before Dave went to India, he said to pick some art for the flat, supposing it ever gets finished, which is so kind of the government to offer but quite disturbing really, because it means Gordon Brown must have personally chosen that flayed lion being eaten by rats, in actual skin, that used to hang over the bed.
But it was thanks but no thanks, I told Mummy, because you'd think from the list there hadn't been an important artist since Sergeant and, to be honest, everyone's got one of those. I mean, hello, Government Art Collection – Banksy or Eine anyone? It's as if the whole avant-garde street arty thing never happened. God knows what you're meant to do if you're going for a pared-down look with basically an eclectic mix of bold abstracts, photographs and irreverent stencils to subvert the hideous corporate vibe – losing battle with Cherie's crystal pelmets, the architect says, since it turns out she actually got them listed.
The little clerk in charge was so sweet at first, said Cherie hasn't returned the Sergeants yet anyway, but he was sure there was a Vanessa Bell somewhere, lots of orange, very modern, look lovely with the futons. Well, I went, absolutely no disrespect but if this is really all you've got, would the government like to borrow some stuff of ours, there's way too much for the flat?
I can't be certain until they've repainted the drawing room in blighted udder, as intended – unbelievable Cable thought I'd be taken in by the Homebase magnolia – but we could probably spare the large Gobshite and a couple of quite rare Philths, from when he was still using his own bodily fluids. Instead of leaping at the chance, clerky man goes all huffy, so I'm like, I do have a degree in fine art, for what it's worth, as well as counting Gobshite, Dregz and the Grotmeister as personal friends.
Texted Dave who said some people are born chippy, look at Pakistan, and forget the big state babes, just ring Govey. Which is a brilliant idea because they haven't got a thing unless you count those seascapes from John Lewis. They must dream of living with a genuine Tosspot.
