Filthy Durty Postcards: Badgers, Blu-Tack & Picturegating
This lunchtime, while the rest of you stuffed your faces with fancy sangwiches, I went on a not-very-dangerous, undercover, guerilla art mission.
First port of call was the National Portrait Collection of Ireland, Bourn Vincent Gallery (UL). On its stark white walls I stuck my Cowen/Gravely-ill Badger postcard. Like Martin Luther's 95 theses – only with more dotted lines of piss.
And a close up:
The total absence of FF-sponsored, brutally repressive, security guard goons was a disappointment – but the CCTV cameras that watched my every move no doubt wired their signal straight back to party headquarters. I'll be found face down in a dumpster with a plastic bag over my head before the week's out.
With this job done I flung open the doors and headed out into the wilds (i.e a grassy courtyard): there to share my love of freedom with the myriad spirits of nature. There can be no greater act of communion with Mother Earth than Blu-Tacking a rude postcard to a tree. Behold:
And behold again:
This is a softer, almost (dare I say) touching, Cowen nude. There he is for all the world to see. Stripped of his bullish facade. Stripped of his aura of power. Stripped of his jocks. I could just pick him up, kiss him on his tiny little head, and pop him in my breast pocket. If I didn't hate him for pissing on that poor sick badger. Boo!
Update, 25/03/09, 23.48:
Ok. I hereby want to encourage every single person reading this to send me (via post) a nude Brian Cowen postcard (ask for my address and it will be given). If we gather enough together I'll find a way to exhibit them publicly. If some fail to arrive then we'll also have "postalgate" to concern ourselves with. This is not a joke. I genuinely want to do it.
March 25, 2009
12 responses to Filthy Durty Postcards: Badgers, Blu-Tack & Picturegating
I too am the Naked Brian Cowen!
Andersen’s (certainly) rotating with laughter in his last dwelling, six feet under.
As am I. And so’s my wife.
Careful, or you’ll get Mr. Andersen’s name logged with the Gardai. Death cannot save him from the “ah now” brigade.
Seriously? Because I can hook you up!
Right here.
I’ll send you on a copy.
AJ, Yes! I’m entirely serious. If you can transfer said image to a postcard then please, please send it on. It’s superb! Love it.
I’m sticking to postcards only for this. Others around the country (my inbox tells me) may be giving other forms/media a go.
fantastic!
Can this farce be now be referred to as Cownegate?
It already is, by several sources. Call it whatever you like. It still reeks of faeces.
Wait a minute. Was “Cownegate” a typo or deliberate? If the latter then congrats. It’s brilliant!
Cow-negate. Cow-negate.
It seems fabulously appropriate somehow.
You could call it the NBC Network.
Pingback: Pissing (once more) Bishops: Let’s Get Blasphemous - Fustar - Recycling Cultural Waste Since 2005
Pingback: My Naked Biffo - PictureGate