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The opening of the Bartlett Gallery in Bethnal Green was the culmination of many years of toil, hardship and borderline psychosis on the part of Tortured Artist. I wish him and his merry band every success for the future. Of course, now that he's got everything he's always wanted as an artist - giant studio, own personal gallery space, like minded artistes to supply objective yet deeply constructive criticism and advice - he now says it's all too late and his artistic ability has utterly deserted him. I removed the last of the beer bottles from his fevered grasp before he hurled it viciously to the ground to join its shattered brethren, then gently broke the half -nelson he had me in, before it broke my neck. I was then about to offer all manner of soothing words and assurances of his genius, when I realised he was listening to Bruce Springsteen. This made it abundantly clear he was beyond hope. I went back up stairs to the rooftop to listen to some fiendish imp mash up an old moog in tandem with his Apple mac. Now that's an art.
B
2 comments:
You have a way with bottles and fevered grasps.
It happens with alarming regularity.
B
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