A few plinths short of a square…..

Red Ken, Dom Perignon loving John Mortimer and a full supporting cast of the arty farty glitteratti have, in their wisdom put forward 6 different sculptures to stick on the final 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square.

The public, that’s you and me, have been invited to vote for one of these ‘six of the best’ – the winner being voted ‘plinth-worthy’. The rest, presumably will be consigned to an area marked ‘not-plinth-worthy’ and carefully, very carefully placed into a purpose built receptacle. This will be big and yellow. The public – that’s you and me, will then be invited to offer our condolences to the unworthies.

After a suitable period of mourning, the big yellow receptacle – or ‘skip’ for short, will be loaded onto a lorry and taken to a new viewing area. This viewing area – known as the ‘municipal rubbish dump’, will then witness another art ‘happening’ as the 5 second placers are bulldozed into the ground. This act, heavy on symbolism, but more so on realism as 15 tonnes of functional full metalled fury re-categorise the pieces from 3 dimensions into 2 – and finally into the 5th dimension.

The winner? Well, the winner will get plaudits – by the lorry load. They’ll have so many plaudits – there is sure to be a worldwide plaudit shortage. Take Alfie the bear’s advice, dump gold, platinum and whatever - and buy big in plaudits!

The successful sculpture will be plinth bound - placed on some of the most photographed square footage in the entire World. The whole globe will wonder, they’ll gaze in awe as the crème de la crème of the 3-D BritArt movement is reverently hoisted upon plinth 4.

Visitors will be as gob smacked as Michelangelo was when the Pope called him over having just finished the Sistine Chapel ceiling. "Very nice, Mr Michelangelo, but I’ve always had a hankering for a nice bit of Artex on the ceiling of this room"…..

Alfie the art critic has managed to blag his way in to view the six finalists….. I must say, the talent is certainly spread out – in a 'nowhere to be seen' kind of way. Anyway, in order for all of you budding art critics to have a full flavour of the pieces, I have, rather thoughtfully, I think, put together a little info’ pack, detailed below.

You can view the pieces, take in the cadence emanating from the artists – and then see what I reckon……..

Plinth wars, the sexy six

Au revoir to the Pogo dude?.......

'Alfred the Well Gutted' here. No sense of humour today. The pogoster has gone. One of the wittiest geezers in the blogosphere has jacked it in. His blog on how he blagged a first class trip to America had me wetting myself.

In his place is a no-mark pranny called 'Max Arsehole' or something. Apparently to bask in the reflected glory of Pogo's mega good blog site ....... how sad is that?

Is Max, 'Salieri' to Pogo's 'Amadeus'? ......... Probably.

It's a bible-black bad day for blogging.

Rupert the Bear….

‘Great news, Rupert’s back!
The 2004 Bumper Annual is in the shops right now!
Rupert, Algy, Cuthbert and all the rest of the chums will no doubt be having even more exciting adventures in Nutwood.

Obviously, I will have to get it.

Obviously, I will carefully (very carefully) read it.

Obviously, I will put it next to all the other Rupert books I have…… All 40 of them.

Obviously, they are safely tucked away on Rupert’s special shelf, high above any grasping kiddies jammily encrusted hands.

Why do I get them?
To view visual representations of the English countryside – as it was before the Euro nazis gave grants to have all the hedges ripped up and flood monster fields the size of small towns with oil seed rape - into a ‘yellow and very unpleasant land’.

Oh yes – plus a really good script, character consolidation and mega realistic plot lines. Although the stories about Rupert’s gay kiss with Bertie the Bear and Ferdinand the Frog being found, buried under Simon the psycho snake’s patio was, I think just a bit too far fetched.

(I mean, Simon doesn’t have any arms – so how could he build a patio over Ferdy’s body?) Duhr.


Deep and meaningful conversation…..

Whilst working late at the office last night, I got into conversation with the cleaner. She was telling me how she was intending to go back to church and start worshipping again.

"Ohh yeah, I said – are you lapsed or what?"

"Yes, a Catholic." she said. "Years ago - without fail every single Sunday, I would go to church, religiously…."

A thought…….

People that work for ‘NASA’ – have my unreserved admiration. Their job is really complicated and is really hard to do.

After all, it is rocket science…..


Naming names…

A few years ago, a guy from Yorkshire had his 15 minutes of fame. He was featured in lots of magazine articles and a few alternative, late-night TV programmes - ‘what did he think’…. ‘how was he coping’ etc, etc. There wasn’t great interest in him – more his name. He had been christened ‘Wayne’. A bit ‘nouveau’ maybe. But in the World of ‘Jason’, ‘Brent’ and ‘Troy’ - ’Wayne’ should hardly have raised any eyebrows.

Apart from the fact that his surname was ‘Carr’.

So there they are, Mr and Mrs Carr trying to decide which name to give their newly born son. "How about Wayne?"
"Oooooh yes, I love that name, Wayne"
"So that’s decided then …… Wayne Carr, perfect"
"I bet people won’t forget that name in a hurry"

True, very, very true……..

What the hell where they thinking of? What kind of life did they think little Wayne would have in school? ‘Picked on’ probably.

But what about those (and I include myself in this category) that have had an ordinary, no nonsense type name since the day they were born – only for Hollywood or TV to suddenly make it a by-word for catch phrases or well known mannerisms….

Believe it or not, my name isn’t really ‘Alfie’. That’s just a pseudonym. My name is bog standard. No, not ‘Bog Standard’ as in "The name's 'Standard', 'Bog Standard' and these are my kids, 'Royal', 'High' and 'London Evening"– no, no, no, it's just everyday ordinary.

Well, it was until a certain TV show hit the screen in the mid ‘70’s. My name is real similar to the principal character’s moniker, so for the next 15 years, whenever I’d give my name to anyone, they would wittily do the theme music … "Na na na na na naaaaaaaaaa, na na na na na naaaaaaa". If I was really lucky, they would do an impersonation of riding on a surf board with arms outstretched...

This was usually followed by them saying "Book him Danno"…..

Ho, Hum.