Et CeteraART
Much art is a painter’s statement. I prefer work where the paint does the talking, not the artist. THE TWO LEADERS OF THE WESTERN WORLD President ‘Grab Pussy’ and Charlie Tampon. THEY’RE BROWN, LET ‘EM DROWN Vote Leave, Leave.EU, ERG’s proposed new slogan. THE PENNY MORDAUNT SHOW Aka the coronation. The Leader of the House of Commons was magnificent. I haven't been so excited since I saw Russell Crowe in Gladiator. Those triceps... THE TRUE PURPOSE OF ART IS TO BE MEANINGLESS AND UNNECESSARY. GUESS THE ART CRITIC Highly knowledgeable, often insightful, always spiteful. Often confuses petulance with perspicacity, meanness with meaning, rudeness with shrewdness. Known in the trade as the Gerald Ratner of art critics. Hates art and most artists but, aw shucks, it’s a living. WHO ON EARTH IS, WAS, WILL BE, SIX POINT PERCY? PHYSICS 1: There are five basic states of matter: Solid, Liquid, Gas, Plasma, and Doesn't. HE SHOULDN'T-A, HADN'T-A, OUGHN'T-A SWANG... HOW BORIS JOHNSON BECAME ARCHIE RICE Johnson will always get votes when he puts himself forward. Brits love a buffoon, especially a gold-plated toff. The romance will cool. He’ll always be worth a headline, roaming the world on the entertainer circuit, after-dinner speaking, collecting over-priced fees, rehashing his Peppa pig speeches. Happy as Larry. Happy as Laurence Olivier as Archie Rice, the failing third-rate music-hall act. Perfect casting. THIS I KNOW OF PHYSICS Quantum theory And general relativity Are incompatible. And a pint of water weighs A pound and a quarter THE WIDOW The day he Was widowed Two people died One kept breathing Unloved, Unliving. CLARKSON Clarkson farming Gets much praise. At his name I hum The Marseillaise GRAND DESIGNS Book-less, picture-less. Bannister-less stairs. Barren as Arran. Off-spring hates Can’t bring friends home House intimidates. FAVOURITE ARTISTS I'm one of the fans Of the Vans I very much lyck Dyck and Eyck RADIO 3 What is it that ails thee? Trailers abound Amid off-putting ads For BBC Sounds TAKE THAT BEETHOVEN Farage turns his back on the Ode to Joy. Ouch! Hitler, not to be outdone, Had it played in Auschwitz! CHORAL EVENSONG Still going strong A lot of palaver Read by Father Cadaver DAZED She had the dazed look common to parents of teenage percussionists. DRESSING During lovemaking he insisted on swapping clothes. This made her very cross. TRAFALGAR Landseer's lions In the square See the 4th plinth And despair DUPUYTRENS Listening to his piano-playing she wondered if and when Dupuytrens might strike. MOUTHWASH It's been said Elon Musk is so rich he could afford to pay Paul Dacre’s monthly mouthwash bill. MY MEMORY What was that famous 20th century sexy novel? It began with some old guy in bed with his catapult when the archbishop called? CLASSICAL MUSIC Is much of venerated classical music repetitive, formulaic, and dull? I’m thinking mainly of the symphonic repetoire. I listen to those afternoon, clap-in-the-wrong-place concerts. And I wonder. Am I alone? REPAIR I took the UK to The Repair Shop They said nothing could be done It’s broken beyond repair, stop Something's made it come undone REMINISCE Was it Ozymandias Who used to play for Spurs? No, that was Ossie Ardiles He was mighty Your man Dias never had a kick Though that’s a bit unfair We supported Fulham So were always in despair PAY ATTENTION TO PERFECTION J.S. Bach said hark The herald angel sings on high. Fitzgerald, E., Ev’ry time We say goodbye. WHEN WAS IT? When we lost the bottle of Britain? When the many beat the Few? When we were split down the middle? Phew, I wish I knew. SCOTS GNATS I’ve an idea To spare the red deer. Let’s stalk midges Instead. Let’s fill up our fridges Baps and sandwiches With the chironomidae, Dead. I itch to dispatch them Catch them and scratch them. I lust for their Blood running red. Out with the venison In with the benison For Scotland, my neck And ma heid. THE PAINTER Once he’d seen his oeuvre In the Louvre Pendant at the Nat and in The Met And been thrilled to bittzi When it dangled in Uffizi And known how sublime it Was to Guggenheim it And swooned into a coma When he made it into Moma With red spots like measles On the product of his easels And when a bit of wall space He did squidge, In darkest Russia’s Splendid Hermitage, He chucked his beret on the fire For man can reach no higher And having made his mark He spent the day at Kempton Park. ESSEX ACCENT Where-a be yer gooin’? I baint-a gooin’ nowhere I just-a cumming baack. jim@kelso.co.uk - 07881 908903 GALLERY |