Honestly...

Rather unexpectedly and dangerously swerved into a parking spot about 10 kilometers away from the Everard Read. Arrived there cursing and sweating and coughing and obviously thirsty and hoping to see some real Sex, Power and Money…that’s how my arm got twisted into going. I think someone should design a shirt for me that says dumb on the front and ass on the back. I admittedly haven’t done much research into the topic, but have stumbled upon a new definition of ‘crap’. Really now, is this the same gallery that launched Wayne Barker with the now infamous Zulu Lulus? My goodness. Anyway, I kept my mouth shut and tried to behave, although my eyes were watering and there was a bad taste in my mouth that I tried to wash down with gin and tonic…it didn’t help until about the third, at which point like that beer advert with the not so pretty woman things got hazy and everything was alright and I even flirted in conversation with some people about some of the works. Thank [insert deity of choice here] for their well stocked bar.

And then, it happened. Someone came up to me and asked me what I think of the work, ‘honestly’. ‘Really, be honest’. Now everyone who drinks like me knows that alcohol is a truth serum so powerful, that you often find yourself speaking truths you didn’t even know about. And so it was in this case, as I proceeded to very delicately explain crap to this person, e.g. “The show is like a limp dick” and “The only thing rockin around here are the zombies”. Following which said person fled, and I was able to breathe again as I waited for someone to come around and kick me out. But that is so uncivilized, and the crowd very cultured and well dressed and bourgeois; everyone knew I didn’t belong but was very nice about it, and I at least quenched my thirst before I left.

I must say, one thing about the place is that it smells of money. But as the saying goes, you can have all the money in the world, but you can’t buy taste.