Roaming the hedgerows of Oxfordshire in latesummer lunchtime sunshine, lipsticked with purpled blackberry gore, my mind swoops with seamles ease to dolor, death and destruction.
Truth is, the bucolic fauna evoked scenes of frolicking Cottingley fairies, which, combined with the crimson carnage of my purloined provisions, reminded me of the monstrous miniature misery of Jake and Dinos Chapman’s tragically, ironically now-combusted Hell, which recalled the exactingly etched, technically innovative hanging pygmies in Callot’s Les miseries de la guerre recently exhibited at Compton Verney, which took me right back to yesterday’s Pierrepoint.
Mmmm, the circle of life. Just wait until winter kicks in, then I’ll start on the cheerful shit.
