Notorious anti-capitalist artist takes big bucks from Oligarch

22 May

Early examples of the artist’s work, discarded for being ‘too tame’.

Enfant terrible Tony Macaroni has got himself a patron. He is known for his incendiary pieces of corruscating social commentary such as ‘Burnt Toast-taste the lies!’ (the faces of world leaders seared onto slices of Warburton’s), ‘Remind me to hate you’ (video in which he melts discarded Madame Tussaud busts) as well as anti-war protest piece ‘Colon Dreamscape’ which has been banned on the grounds of indecency.  He is also widely recognisable on the arts scene for his abrasive posturing and loathing for politicians, so Macaroni’s decision to accept financial support from a notorious billionaire has struck many as strange, with critics branding him a sell-out.

Q:  Rumour has it that you’ve been adopted by Russian Oligarch Steppan Izzinovavikovnavich as his personal artist.

TM:  (Nervously) Yes, so?

Q:  Doesn’t it go against your anti-capitalism, anti-establishment mores?
(Shifts uncomfortably)

TM:  Sure, some may say that it goes against every fibre of my being to accept the blood-rinsed cash of one of the world’s biggest parasites. I certainly wouldn’t, but some might.

Q:  Is it true that he keeps you under house arrest, forcing you to paint recreations of Whistler’s grandmother with his ex-wife as a model?

TM:  Those rumours are (largely) untrue. I could choose between Whistler’s Grandmother and Van Gogh’s ear. (furtively rubs ears) I would’ve had to be the model for that.

Q:  How do you respond to statements to (now deceased) housemaid Schvetlana Meerlubna’s claims that you begged her to get you to a government safe house when she found you cowering in the 18th ballroom at his estate?

TM: That’s errant nonsense. I love that ballroom. I hang out there all the time.

Q: Wearing a caviar-stained jester’s outfit?

TM: Steppan likes to get involved in my installation pieces. That one involves him hurling beluga at me while I flaggelate myself with a badminton racket. (Swallows) It’s fun.

Q:  About Steppan’s famous pack of dogs…

TM: (Starts to shiver uncontrollably) I don’t talk about the dobermans.

Q:  Are you working on anything now?

TM:  I’m working with Steppan on… (breaks down, weeps) listen, I just want to say that I take back everything I ever said about British politicians and capitalism. I was wrong, I see that now. If you could just tell the police…

Immediately two burly security guards rush in.
Guard 1: You upset Minion 502?

Q:  Er…

Guard 2:  No more talky talky!

As they drag the recumbent Macaroni out, he looks back at me silently mouthing, ‘SAVE YOURSELF’…


Rap star’s alter ego develops own alter ego

8 May

Hair reflecting life?

Rap singer Beebop KraZd has just released a sparkling new album (retail copies literally covered in mock Swarofski crystals) under her alter ego’s (a timid librarian called Floozi Malloy, with two foster children and a ‘badass policy on late returns’) alter-ego.

‘Funki Munk’, ‘a toi girl grinding her stuff in the Barbie house’ is said to be Floozi’s (aka Beebop’s) ‘plastic fantasy’.

Q: What led your alter ego to er…develop ‘her’ own alter-ego?

BK/FM/FM: Everyone was doing the alter-ego thing. Beyonce, Niki Minaj, Madlib…I wanted to express myself in a totally original way.

Q: Peeper magazine reported recently that you ‘talk in the voices of your different alter ego’s, sometimes even having arguments and fistfights’?

BK/FM/FM: Damn straight! Dem birches be getting all up in my grill. Funki Munk is always stealing my clothes…(expression changes) oh no you di-unt! You did not jus accuse me of stealing my own clothes! (voice change) now ladies, let’s have some propriety, you know I don’t like loud talkers…(voice change) shut yo mouth bitch!
(Argument becomes increasingly heated until BK/FM/FM pulls out a diamond encrusted bb gun and starts pistol whipping herself)

Manager Lick Flange steps in.

LF: Break it up ladies… (ushers star out) My God, it’s exhausting.

Q:  Do you see any danger of Beebop losing credibility with her fans as a result of outbursts like this?

LF: Oh no. The crazier the better as far as alter-ego’s go. I think its s great way for them to let off steam from all the pressure of being a celeb. You should hear the sort of shit ‘Sasha Fierce’ gets away with. You think it was Eminem who assaulted his ex wife? No, that was ‘Slim Shady’. These days they all have therapists telling them to use these a-e’s as a ‘mask to explore their deepest fantasies’.

Q: These are people who can afford to bathe in a solid gold bathtub full of beluga caviar whilst having naked dwarves hoola hooping and juggling bags of money….?

LF: That stuff’s old news man. Tired and boring. The new thing is airing your psychological laundry in public. That shit never gets old.

Q: What will happen if Beebop’s alter-ego’s alter-ego develops an alter-ego?
(a huge pause)

LF:  That’s some deep shit you’re talking about. But if anyone’s crazy enough to do it…

Beebop KraZd aka Floozi Malloy aka Funki Munk’s new album,”Crank my bitch funk” is out now.

Underground Grog Filter Beats – famous for the next 5 minutes

26 Apr

The latest craze for Underground Grog Filter beats has seen several bands rising above the rest like scum on day old coffee. In a good way.

Crustacean Inflation – Jeniffer Gestation takes the rabid crowds up one minute and then brings them down. Literally. The band laces free cocktails with Valium for that ‘mellow vibe’. Picking broken glass from your cheek has never been more fun.

You need to be pretty mellow to do this move.

Tits for Termites – Low voiced singer Mick Macweltenbrack shouts the lyrics to their hit ‘Brazen faced Dog People’ whilst keyboardist Frick LeRoo recites the periodic table.

Hasta La Vista Gravy – Singing from a bathtub full of gravy, the band wave porkchops and legs of mutton at the increasingly ravenous crowd before inciting them to feast orgiastically off their bodies. With no recognisable band leader it was left to promoter Denby Whatserwaller to yell, “But wait, there is no gravy” over and over again, while recording and looping the baying of the crowd. Expect to come back from the gig in someone else’s clothes.

Hasta La Vista Gravy: He's right there is no gravy. Oh wait, there is.

Donde Endometrium – Ex-microbiologist Flange Breathsaver knits tightly woven computer based blips and bleeps with the cooing of a whip-poor-wil and the noises of a cicada. Walking amongst the audience, he offers to tickle you. Don’t accept.

Donde Endometrium

Flange Breathsaver: Seriously, don't let him tickle you.

Ventriloquist sticks hand up own bum

10 Apr

Bertie and his dummy, in happier times

Bertie Nosewhistler succumbed to the grim financial climate by having to pawn his trusty dummy a few weeks ago.

“Actually he was a foul mouthed little git so I wasn’t too sorry to be rid of him. My psychiatrist told me he was a grim expression of my matricidal tendencies. So he tended to be a bit of a downer.”

With necessity being the mother of invention Bertie has cut out the middle man (or dummy) in an unusual way.

“The audiences love the new show. They’re always surprised the first time they see it.”

Critics have been unstinting in their praise, describing Nosewhistler’s performance as ‘mindboggling’, ‘both terrifying and strangely satisfying,’ and ‘like a car crash you just can’t look away from.’

Agent Tommy Schnitzel says, “I think this show has legs. We’re thinking of taking it to Vegas next year.”
Dr. Abel Enabler (DIPdap, BMad), his Psychiatrist says, “Although this success can’t fail to bolster Bertie’s low self esteem, he has to watch that his negative manifestation ‘the dummy’ doesn’t become a part of him, effectively turning inward.”

“Because otherwise I might become a raging maniac,” Bertie giggled.

Q: How did you come up with the idea?

BN: I was loitering listlessly around the old bedsit looking for something else to pawn when I remembered my years as a contortionist at Rigley’s Circus. I thought to myself, Dang it! That’s the answer! And never looked back. Well, except of course to…

Q: Quite.

Bertie’s Bum and his Magical Hand, is playing at the Barking theatre. Children welcome.


"Horror? Or lust? It's such a thin line," says Bertie.

At home with the Poffcock’s: Artist opens parent’s house to public

30 Mar

Poffcock and parents at home

Artist Stephen Poffcock has opened his parent’s house to the public, part of an ongoing installation piece he’s creating based on ‘the meaninglessness of the middle classes’. As thousands troop through the Poffcock household, the artist is always present, presiding at times horizontally, at others vertically, in a soiled bathrobe.

Q: Is the bathrobe part of the exhibit?

SP: Yes, it’s an indication of what a man of intelligence and sensitivity will be driven to when forced to rely on people tainted by the stench of their own bourgeois background.

Q: Isn’t this just an excuse not to move out?

SP: Of course not. My parents perfectly represent a generation trapped between embracing technology and only dimly understanding it. They’re future relics. My installation is a future time capsule.

Mrs P: More tea? A macaroon?

P: (In a bitter aside) For her, macaroons are a way of locating herself in her brittle societal bubble…

Q: Like a sort of cakey lifeboat bobbing along on an ocean of tea?

P: Just so. (Turning suddenly to his mother) For God’s sake mum, you know I don’t take sugar!

Mrs P: Sorry dear, only there are so many people…

Q: I’ll take another macaroon.

P: (Leaning close, in a menacing whisper) that’s a piece of her soul you’re devouring, I hope you know that.

Mr. P: (looking strained) Oh, all still here? I’ll er…I’ll just pop some Barry Manilow on the stereo then.

SP: It’s not a stereo Dad. It’s a CD PLAYER. You see what he’s been reduced to? A husk of a human being…

Q: Isn’t this all a bit of an imposition?

SP: That’s the point! They’re incapable of expressing their rage! Whereas you or I would tweet or blog about how angry we are, they have no outlet…
(Barry Manilow’s ‘Can’t smile without you’ begins to play in the background) Inside they’re seething with rage…aren’t you mother?

Mrs. P: (With a vacant smile) Yes, dear.


The Poffcock’s will be at home indefinitely. All contributions welcome, see Stephen Poffcock. Tea will be provided if Mr. Poffcock has had time to get to the shops.

Formaldehyde Fake revealed: Herring keeps twin in basement

14 Mar
Twin incarcerated in basement

The trapdoor leading to Herring's basement prison.

Dermot Herring, whose groundbreaking pieces involved placing a chartered accountant in formaldehyde, has today been found to be a fake.
The true author of his work was revealed this week to be none other than his twin Colin Herring, whom Dermot apparently, ‘kept chained in a basement for the past 15 years’, the same period over which Herring’s star first began to rise in the arts world.

Pale and traumatised from the experience, Colin stated to police and assembled press that, “Dermot threatened to put me in a formaldehyde bath if I didn’t work for him like a slave.”

Dermot’s (or rather, Colin’s) work with people who donated their bodies to the Herring Trust, has become legendary, reputedly earning Dermot a fortune.

“Sometimes he would torture me by forcing me to watch him writhing naked on a bed of gold bullion,” said Colin, speaking from a police safe house.

“When I first suggested the idea of placing different things in formaldehyde, he scoffed in my face, but we did it for a laugh. Next thing I knew, I was locked in the basement…it wasn’t all bad, he let me have satellite TV.”

Dermot has issued the following statement through his lawyer, Jacob Twist (of Bend, Twist and Pullem):

“While my client does not deny incarcerating his twin, he emphatically denies using threats to get him to work. As far as the gold bullion is concerned, that was a present from Sheik Ali Yuksak (for placing his 3rd wife in formaldehyde) and it has no bearing on this matter.”

It is feared that the Herring ‘masterpieces’ will now seriously decrease in value.
“Who is this Colin?” spat Sheik Ali Yuksak. “Dermot I trusted, and now I hear that this Colin, this nobody, handled my 3rd wife’s delicate parts?! Dermot partied with me and JZ on my yacht, he’s like brother to me. A brother who took my gold bullion and did unspeakable things with it.”

While the case continues, buyers of Herring art are reportedly trying to offload their pieces as fast as possible. An insider at Sotheby’s told us, “People are finding it difficult to sell these pieces. ‘A minor civic servant,’ once valued at £3 million, sold yesterday for £2.50, and the owner was grateful to get that price. After all, it’s hardly as if the local council will take it away with the recycling.”

Art world brought to it’s knees by painting no one has ever seen

5 Mar

What’s behind door 1?

“In that room is one of the most beautiful works of art you will never see.” Thus spoke recently deceased artist Denzel Breesely, earlier this week. “It’s taken me twenty-five years to complete. My wife left me because I worked in strict seclusion for long periods – she was the love of my life and even she hasn’t seen it.”

His new work, ‘Behind Door number 1,’ sparked a media frenzy because of the closely guarded nature of the installation. At the recent event at the Folderol Gallery in Bank, Breesely failed to reveal the alleged masterpiece, which he has concealed behind an unbreachable locked door.

Wearing a brassy shirt and a loud gold key on a chain, Breesely said,“It rivals the Mona Lisa or any number of fabled pieces in its intricacy of design and flawlessness of its conception.” As art critics and journalists muttered into their hors de oeuvres, the artist took questions regarding the mysterious art work.

Q: Why can’t you let us see it then?

DB: The point of this piece is to test the human endurance for inaccessibility. Your curiosity will imbue the work with all the qualities I’ve just named, merely by imagining it.

Q: A bit like the Emperor’s new clothes?

DB: No, nothing like that. In the story to which you refer, the emperor actually wore no clothes. He was naked and deluded. Behind that door is a work of staggering beauty…

Q: Which no-one is allowed to see?

DB: Precisely. The piece has already been bought sight unseen by Gemini Craterback of the Craterback Cracker industry. And before you ask, not even the new owner of the piece will get the key to the door.

Q: Nothing we can say will convince you to give us a little peek?

DB: (Smiles enigmatically) You’d have to pry the key from my cold, dead hands…

It appeared that the artist’s flippant comment was prescient. Breesely’s death yesterday, involving a freak accident in which he was buried beneath an avalanche of Craterback Crackers (a gift from the new owner), has led to speculation that the mystery will never be resolved. Meanwhile, the projected value of the piece has gone up a thousandfold as critics and pundits speculate as to its content.

“Its already being referred to as one of the iconic pieces of our time,” said Hooch Prize board member, Gullabill Wheat. “None of the other artists have bothered entering this year, so we’ve awarded the prize to Breesely posthumously.”

The artists wake will be held at the Little Church of Generic Omnipotence. All are welcome, snacks will be provided by Craterback industries.