ELECTION 08: Frozen beauty queen thaws McCain’s age, energy worries

John McCain has announced his vice president selection, and it’s a blinder on many fronts. Governor of Alaska Sarah Palin is just 44, placed second in the Miss Alaska beauty pageant (in 1984), and used to work as a sports reporter. Everything about this working mum screams accessibile, patriot, anti-elititst (she eats moose burgers, apparently), and ethics. Palin is known as an outsider, a whistleblower, has a son in the army (soon to be in Iraq) and another – forgive me if this sounds crass – with Down’s syndrome. From a media point of view, there are few weaknesses. Admitting to having smoked marijuana does not make big play these days.

Not only does she bring down the average age of the Republican ticket to 58 (the average of the Democrat duo is 56), Palin is surely designed to appeal to undecided Clinton voters. ‘Think McCain might die? Well, then there’ll be a woman in the White House. Fulfil Hillary’s promise! It’s win win.’ Neatly, Palin namechecked Clinton on her introduction as VP, and Clinton congratulated her in return. She’s even known for her independence from ‘big oil’, no mean feat in Alaska, and has that holy grail of policy experience: energy.

On the downside she has no big economic credentials, limited national exposure, and is fiercely pro-life; which may offend some wavering independents/Reagan Democrats. VP picks have rarely figured big in history (Lyndon Johnson is the exception), but there are few negatives to take away from this choice. An impressive move, but will it be enough to torpedo Obama’s big speech from the news cycle?

[Question: how did a stadium with an official capacity of 76,125 allow Obama to address ‘more than 80,000’ devotees? Is Obama in breach of fire regulations? Or are reporters rounding up? We should be told.]

22.23 UPDATE:
Apparently more seats were placed on the grass. But we’re still suspicious. Woe betide Obama when health and safety get hold of him.

Taken for a ride? News Hour at Psycho Buildings

ARTS REVIEW

There is a tendency to turn everything into a theme park or circus, including art exhibitions. Psycho Buildings, the recently concluded show at London’s Hayward Gallery, was one such example.

The principle was to bring artists’ perspectives to architecture – this translated into a series of installations, most of which provoked thoughts of not too taxing a nature. At its peak were works of incredible detail such as Suh Do-ho’s Fallen Star, a physical crash of his Korean home into his sprawling American dwelling – it was all there, down to the food labels and a Domino’s Pizza box (his Staircase was rather neat, too). On a similar note was Rachel Whiteread’s Place (Village), a room of lit dolls houses arranged as if on hillsides – at first it was magical, then slightly creepy. All were decorated slightly differently, and all were empty. Why was no-one there? A simple point perhaps, but an entertaining one – had it been a ride it was one worth taking. Taken together, the downstairs formed a sprawling if spare meal – the upstairs was a different bunch of kettles altogether.

Queues one hour long snaked through various spaces, the reward for which was a rather fabulous boating lake where one appears near to falling off the building – fabulous, but not one-hour fabulous, and no amount of carping about patience will persuade us otherwise. Queues for films inside Tobias Putrih‘s Venetian, which were themselves described by one punter in very negative terms (possibly a product of the heat), were perceived not to move – and could easily have formed some kind of ‘living artwork’ by themselves. Perhaps this will be the next thing – perhaps art punters will be charged ten pounds simply to sit in an unpainted room occasionally frequented by fag-toting cleaners, and watch themselves becoming irritated on vast video screens. This is not a million miles away from John Cage’s instrumentally silent composition. Inevitably, this is available as a single.

A lottery of balls guided whether one was granted access to the top of what resembled an inflatable bouncy conservatory – this should have been tremendous fun, were it not for the two permanently installed members of staff who watched nervous punters like hawks. Moving was strictly rationed.

If these experiences are to be couched as rides, then why not commit to them more fully? Tate Modern had a series of metal slides in the Turbine Hall not so long ago, and didn’t really pretend they were anything but. (They were free, of course.) A fluffily written, badly-designed guide leaflet (it was almost impossible to switch sides without becoming convinced you had ripped it) is not enough to inform the visitor when the experiences with which you are presented are so mired in the mundane. News Hour has nothing against contemporary art, only its often absurd presentation. In the future, the Hayward should limit ticket sales to ensure that the experiences they are selling are open and enjoyable to all – only a souring of the ‘brand’ will occur if they don’t.

ELECTION 08: Pop star compares candidate to genocidal Nazi madman

An example of why musicians should think twice before commenting on politics, especially when they try to be ‘controversial’. Madonna’s comparison between McCain and Hitler is not the same as McCain conflating Obama with Paris Hilton (whose energy policy still sounds sensible), and says far more about the pop singer than it does about the Republican hopeful. What’s more, how can she compare Obama to Gandhi when the former is anything but a pacifist?

Such mindless comparisons also do few favours to Obama’s increasingly theoretical non-negative, ‘new politics’ campaign, one in which his more biting attacks can be safely subcontracted to VP nominee Joe Biden. Obama’s unlicensed celebrity friends could be as dangerous as Pastor Wright in their surrogate attacks…

So, what next? Scarlett Johansson painting herself red and claiming it is the blood spilt by warmongering Republicans? Robert De Niro creating a spoof of Goodfellas on Youtube that casts McCain as Joe Pesci? Watch this space.

Glitter roams own mind, hides

The media has tracked the dwindling horizons of paedophile ex-rocker Gary Glitter (not so ‘ex’ if you believe this, at his appallingly written official website, which seems to regard the offences as little more than an inconvenience – Associated Press go favour ‘faded’ or ‘disgraced’) with understandable fervour. We have slid from one extreme to the other, with the monster at first ‘free to roam the world at will‘, like a wayward beast of the plains, before it became rapidly clear that he would not be allowed to go anywhere but Britain. There, ‘The Leader’ is required to sign the sex offenders’ register. At its extreme, this will involve Glitter being banned from owning a computer, accessing the internet and going anywhere that children might be; swimming pools, playgrounds, etc. This, and the seizure of his passport.

Throughout his post-prison ‘odyssey’ the Boys Will Be Boys singer has appeared not of this Earth, maintaining a demented, dislocated grin for photographers as he claimed heart difficulties, was repelled from Thailand, requested a VIP escort in Hong Kong and – after a ‘two day odyssey‘ (a short odyssey, by most standards) – returned to Britain. The strange beard that evokes an Eastern sorcerer persists in varying states of dekemptitude, twisting its way groundward with terrible purpose.

While he may now be ‘in hiding‘, Glitter appears to be doing so mainly in a parallel reality.

ELECTION 08: Drum roll please, for Senator Joe Biden!

The cat is finally out of the hat – Joe Biden, the 65-year-old senator for Delaware, is Obama’s vice-presidential choice. Biden promises to be an entertaining candidate, a man with no shortage of meandering, occasionally dangerous opinions in response to the simplest of questions. He ran for President in 1988 – then younger than Obama is now – with an emphasis on experience and not learning on the job in the White House; the campaign was damaged by accusations that he lifted from a speech written by British Labour chief Neil Kinnock, possibly unfairly – it’s a charge which Obama has also been accused of, but didn’t do him nearly as much harm.

Crucially, he has 36 years in the senate, a lot of foreign policy experience and is a Catholic – from good Irish stock, no less – which will surely help quiet the persistent digital Muslimisation of Barack Obama. On the tricky side, he is very much a Washington insider. Will answering the call for experience undermine the movement for ‘change’?

Time will tell, but just be thankful the announcement is out – now the Republicans can unclench and unleash their amusing attacks, and the media can hammer full throttle into the convention coverage after all that VP wheelspinning. The live blogging army should be of particular interest on this campaign.

See the News Pointers (right hand side, down a bit) for more stories on Biden.

ELECTION 08: Pumas plan to pounce, but may find themselves outnumbered

The anti-Obama, pro-Hillary group PUMA (Party Unity My Ass, People United Means Action) are keen for their favourite ex-candidate to be entered in the nominations at the looming Democratic National Convention, which she will be. Clinton’s delegates would form a sizeable proportion of the hall were not Obama’s big moment being decamped from the Pepsi Center to the 76,125-capacity Mile High Stadium, so this is a not inconsiderable development – especially when you consider her convincing campaigning for Obama, if not her husband’s occasionally passive stance, and his praising of John McCain’s energy plan. The former President will be speaking at the convention too; this will be worth watching.

According to CNN, the PUMAs have purchased space at the Convention and plans a protest. How will it all play out? The desired integration, or fireworks?

More likely the former, one suspects. But with Obama reeling from McCain attacks and a perceived relative weakness over Georgia that has surely contributed to his recent poll slide, there’s a rocky road ahead. Especially as, for a man who promised to redefine politics, he’s running negative ads (albeit at swing state level), just like the other guy. This isn’t about race, it’s the Republican machine at work. John Kerry Mk2, if Obama isn’t careful.

(An out-there suggestion: are PUMAs an inside job, Swiftboat equivalents for 08?)

As ever, it’s questions, questions, question. Always remember, it’s not over til November.

On the debunking block: West End endorsements, again

SharpEye on Words (2)

It was with great joy that a new raft of tantalisingly vague endorsements for boardcreeping were received in the News Hour offices. What fresh pieces of absurdity were being wrought on Johnny Programme and Sally Interval? What new indignities and anti-truth devices were being deployed to describe London’s glittering theatreland?

We begin with Under The Blue Sky, David Eldridge’s ‘funny and touching play‘ that starred an initially hobbled Catherine Tate. ‘Exceptionally strong cast… brilliant play’ said the Times, accompanied by a five-star rating. Well, all News Hour’s research team could find was a Sunday Times review that was more descriptive than critical. However, someone in the press office had helpfully scanned the Times review and posted it on the site. The quote is reworded slightly, but the sense is True. (‘Anna Mackmin’s cast is exceptionally strong.’) Those looking for ‘brilliant play’ will find it is similarly re-purposed from the headline, ‘brilliant school play’ (it is about teachers), a phrase that never crops up in the review and most likely came from the sub-editor, but works perfectly well. Most damning is the five-star rating when the original review clearly awards it four. Why even bother lying about that, or artificially conflating a five star review from another piece?

Next: Dirty Dancing, the classic coming of age movie converted to stage extravaganza, the promotional video for which has a bewildering obsession with marrows. We are told that the Observer calls it ‘The Biggest Live Theatre Sensation Of All Time’. An Obs preview from almost two years ago noted that: ‘It’s more of a fanzine than a show: none of it’s dirty – and there’s nowhere near enough dancing.’ Polly Vernon’s piece from more than a month previously is based on seeing the production in Hamburg, and the hefty advance sales for the coming London production. (To be fair, she saw it in German and was still enthusiastic, and there’s no denying that Dirty Dancing obsession exists.) The full quote is more cautious than that which adorns the ads, and is not strictly a review: ‘Dirty Dancing is shaping up to be the biggest live theatre sensation of all time.’ The standfirst for the piece claims it to be a ‘West End phenomenon’ which may have been a better choice.

Next: The Zorro musical at the Garrick, which comes equipped with no less than three supporting quotes. The first is from the Telegraph, and claims it to be an ‘insanely enjoyable musical’. Almost True. The quote actually reads: ‘this almost insanely enjoyable musical’ but goes on to say how fun it is, so we can’t really criticise them on sense. Next, the Guardian praises its ‘dazzling choreography’. True. The review also claims it to be an ‘an ebullient and thoroughly enjoyable musical’ and gives it four stars. Finally, the Mail calls it ‘Perfect summer family entertainment’. True. The full quote is ‘This show will make perfect summer family entertainment’, although the Mail makes play in both this and another piece of the difficulties in preview.

Out of the three, we grade the honesty of quotes in decreasing order:
1. Zorro (sounds like a fun show)
2. Dirty Dancing (it was not a review, as such)
3. Under The Blue Sky (why mislead on star ratings?)

See the previous round-up here.

OLYMPICS 08: China haul four golds, one bronze in scandal freestyle

Much about the recent Beijing Olympics has been uncomfortable; so much so that it is a cliche to say it, but not to look more closely. Take the little girl singing at the opening ceremony, who wasn’t singing at all, because the one who could was deemed ‘less attractive’ (isn’t this Gary Glitter territory?) and replaced with the doubtless delightful (and officially ‘perfect’) creature who did her best to lip sync.

Lip syncing is a familiar concept in Western culture – so are harmonisers, and powerful editing software, which can be used to shore up the ‘imperfections’ in pop groups. She can dance, she can’t sing; she can sing, she can’t dance; she’s fit, she’s not; etc. It’s audio airbrushing. Pavarotti lip-synced at the Turin games in 2006. What makes the Chinese example more disturbing is twofold:

1) the girl isn’t lipsyncing herself; even in Western pop, that has consequences (see Vanilli, Milli)
2) she’s a child.

Anything that involves children as tools in the image of state is inherently frightening. That wasn’t it, though. Aside the from home nation gymnast who just might be two years younger than she says (there may be others; here’s what looks like proof), there were the children who represented the 55 ethnic minorities within China’s sizeable borders. While dressed in the relevant garb, all of them were drawn from the Han Chinese majority, not from the remaining 108 million who form the minorities – straight from central casting, you might say. May be some of them even perform here. To their credit, the Chinese admit this (how could they not) but they may have missed a trick. The Muslim Uighur people are canny tightrope walkers; could Zhang Yimou not have tapped into this well of acrobatic talent for his ceremony? There’s always the closing ceremony.

There are other nonsenses to be ignored, in scandal; that the so-called ‘footprint’ of reworks was digitally inserted into the telecast for fear of capture issues. So be it – considering the smogs in Beijing, any paranoid producer with the budget to do it would have done so. Why not? They fired the fireworks, for chrissakes. Get over it.

There can be few scenarios in a city’s life to arouse such paranoia in planners as having four billion eyes tuned in and watching, but in China it seems to have amplified a national insecurity, coupled with what might kindly be termed a naivete; but what may actually be the sheer brass balls of being accustomed to doing things exactly how you damn well please. The ‘protest zones’ have been suspiciously quiet, despite (or because) of the bureaucracy established to serve them (Britain has protest zones, too; but people do protest.). And if people ask questions, just shut down the press conferences. Ah – that’s where it all falls down, at least in Western theory.

New laws in Italy revive weirdo tradition, puzzle holidaymakers

There was a time when the News Hour offices were in frequent receipt of email collections of wacky English laws – one can shoot a bearded Welshman with a goat’s head arrow when the clock strikes 12 and the Moon is the 8th house, etc. You always imagine they are from a bygone era, the remnants of top heavy despots with too much time and anger, or the misunderstood fragments of long-orphaned legislation. So imagine our surprise at learning the practice was still alive and well in Silvio Berlusconi’s Italy, where individual mayors have been encouraged to generate their own, wildly differing bye-laws in the name of ‘security emergency’.

For instance:
-no sandcastles in Eraclea, they ‘obstruct the passage’; nor diving outside ‘permitted areas’
-smoking on the beach in Sardinia could cost you £280
-helicopters patrol the skies in Ostia on the lookout for fake Fendi salesmen
-in Novara, if two people are joined on a bench by a third after 11pm, all three are firmly in the legal wrong

This is the tip of the iceberg although, like the rules concerning Welshmen, one imagines they are not rigidly enforced (although they certainly have been). Italy has a great history as nation of individual nations, of proud city states (as Greece once was), all jostling to outdo one another. Still, the wonderfully contradictory thing about the whole scenario is the existence of a minister for ‘legislative simplification’ a post allegedly <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/7389695.stm
“>created to get Robert Calderoni into office without entrusting him with anything too tricky. Allegedly.

OLYMPICS 08: Russia steals early lead as China twirls

No sooner had China launched its Olympics with a thunder of fireworks and flurry of synchronised hand-waving, than the swarthy Russians steel their thunder with this terrifying piece of sabre-rattling against Georgia. Mr Putin has declared: ‘war has started’. He is in Beijing as we speak, every inch the steely leader. Perhaps he will bare his muscles for the games themselves – he is something of a judo master, after all.

The human tragedy aside, Russia is set to host the Winter Olympic Games in 2014 – in a place called Sochi, billed as ‘Gateway To The Future’. Sochi is a coastal resort near Russia’s southern border, which Georgia lies just below. What kind of future, exactly?

Losing that ‘little bit extra’ – look-a-like to hit hard times?

Howard from Halifax’s fortunes might be on the slide (<a href="http://jerrycaesar.blogspot.com/2008/08/from-howard-to-osama-brand-ambassadors.html
“>see below), but spare a thought for this fellow – who is surely in much more trouble. One hopes that impersonating the bespectacled one is not his only line of income. Perhaps Godfrey will try a stunt similar to that audacious Mexican coup by ‘Sven-Göran Eriksson’ looky-likey Derek Williams, a bold plan to raise his profile after the former Manchester City manager left Britain. Either that, or perhaps he and any discontinued clones could join forces for the aforementioned pop <a href="http://jerrycaesar.blogspot.com/2008/08/from-howard-to-osama-brand-ambassadors.html
“>single. Internet smash, anyone? You heard it here first.

From Howard to Osama, brand ambassadors – and a hint of satire?

Poor Howard from Halifax, who will no longer appear singing and dancing on British TV screens – having been elevated from a lowly branch position, he became the bank’s ‘brand ambassador’, his cheery grin and unscary spectacles endearing him to church fetes around the country. What now for Howard, part of a campaign deemed too upbeat for our troubled times? Where we not in the days of the internet, a pop single would surely beckon; perhaps it still does. Curiously, the firm behind the switch declared that there were into ‘evolution rather than revolution’, words that Howard might take some solace from, were they not paraphrasing Tony Hayers in I’m Alan Partridge. Is a satirist at work within the campaign? Was Howard some kind of Trojan Horse? What is inside him? We should be told.

Brands are everywhere, of course. News Hour has learned that Howard’s superior in the terrorism market would be Osama Bin Laden, who – presuming he is still alive – is the most visible ‘brand ambassador’ for the number one terrorist movement of the moment. Al Qaeda is seriously referred to as a ‘brand’ by some, and you can see why; it is a franchise, of sorts. The western ‘brand’ pushes back in the hearts and minds market, plugging democracy.

Others consider Al Qaeda a virus that attaches itself to points in a society that are receptive to it – your metaphor depends on your perspective, and the more the better, but all of them demonstrate the danger of intellectualising something that is so clearly not purely about debate.

On the bean: Pacific northwest eats itself, corrupts purity of coffee’s black heart

As many readers may be aware, Starbucks is beating a tactical retreat, shutting 73 per cent of its Australian operation and 600 stores across the US. This will be big news for latte-loving Aussies in the big cities, but is a drop in the ocean for its American empire, which accounts for around 75 per cent of its operations: some 6,793 company owned stores.

The company endured some minor controversy earlier in the year when it revived its old symbol, that of a Greek siren, as a kind of Coke Classic stunt. There’s an example of its inspiration from New York’s Met Museum at the top of this post. To be fair, it does look indecent – what appears to be a topless mermaid parting its ‘legs’ in a suggestive manner. (Being suggestive was the whole point of sirens, of course; not in a Carry On fashion, but in the luring sailors to their death sense – odd choice for a logo when you think about it, but that’s another thought.) The question is whether you care.

Coffee shops have dodgy associations. Some in Vancouver aren’t all they appear to be, and then of course there’s Amsterdam. More surprising might be the existence of SexxPresso in Las Vegas, a wheelchair accessible erotic coffee shop where ‘bodacious baristas’ ply their frothy trade. Plans to create a topless coffee shop in Boston appeared to fall foul of local opinion (including that of the owner’s wife), if not actual law. Community disapproval is a powerful force; it closed an Espresso Gone Wild concession in Belfair, Washington, but this is only one of several. A carbound man interviewed over the naked controversy could do little but squint and scratch the back of his skull, claiming that the barely clad girls had always seemed ‘really nice’ and served good coffee to boot. What a great buncha gals. The local outrage left him cold, but reports indicated that many of the fairer sex regard Espresso Gone Wild as little more than a ‘drive thru strip joint’. All this, and they have the pink hotpanted girls of Seattle’s Natte Latte to deal with – the Hooter girls of the coffee world.

Is this localised corruption of the coffee shop ideal the bean’s Sodom and Gomorrah moment? Is this why Starbucks, once the evil empire lampooned in Austin Powers, has been driven back from its borders? Espresso Gone Wild spreads its naked tendrils about the coffee giant’s very heartland – the rainprone Pacific northwest, where Natte Latte and the drug fuelled Vancouver coffee shops lie coiled, drip-dying the sex trade into coffee’s black, black heart.

That’s one opinion. More likely it’s the credit crunch, a decline in discretionary spending that forces people to choose more basic, less expensive coffee, or simply make their own; but one should never rule out a pending vengeance from above.

Conspiracies pirouette on US stage: military, financial and sexual

New accounts of skullduggery at the White House, from Pulitzer prize-winning journalist Ron Suskind. The former WSJ reporter’s new book alleges that Bush ordered the creation of an Iraqi intelligence document that linked 9/11 to Saddam Hussein. So far, so normal – the accused deny it. Conspiracies are difficult to comment on, and rather circular to contemplate without some form of special access.

However: Suskind alleged in his NBC interview that the order to create the document came down to George Tenet from President Bush on ‘White House stationery’. Tenet was then the director of central intelligence, the coordinator of all America’s various acronymed agencies. Would he really have arrived, hot-handed, clutching a letter that read something like this:

THE WHITE HOUSE
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

Dear George (Spy),

Please fake this document so we can go to war.

All the best,

George (President)

Or…

THE WHITE HOUSE
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

Dear Agent ‘G’

Please proceed with operation ‘fake document’ so the horse can bolt the stable.

All the best,

GWB

It seems unlikely, although should serve to remind us that conspiracies are often the product of incompetence rather than evil. Are such details the accidental ‘tip of the iceberg’ or just another happening? Think about how one department rarely knows what the other is doing within private corporations, let alone public bureaucracies. The problem is, no-one ever knows for sure until it’s too late.

It’s always interesting to spot how coverage of conspiracies and their lesser cousins, scandals, play in the media. Spot the difference between the broadly-played corruption scandal embroiling the Republican senator Ted Stevens, recently indicted by a federal grand jury – and that involving former Democratic hopeful John Edwards.

It is now twice denied by the senator for North Carolina that he had an affair and a baby with Rielle Hunter; and while online media have reported the story, it has gone largely unplayed by print and broadcast (except Fox News).

There are two possible reasons for this: either they distrust the source (the National Enquirer, which has spent seven months on the story and is holding something back), in which case why not debunk it – or it is out of allegiance/sympathy to Mr Edwards’s wife, who has fought a long and public battle with a now incurable breast cancer. One imagines it will all come to a head some time around the Democratic National Convention, at the end of August.

UPDATE: John Edwards admitted to his affair with Rielle Hunter last Friday, although still denies that the child is his. There is no father listed on the birth certificate, and although married political aide Andrew Young has claimed paternity, Ms Hunter has refused a paternity test – which Mr Edwards had offered to take.

NEWS HOUR EXCLUSIVE: Evil seeps through the foundations of Tate Modern

News reached us that the mixed blessing of Shibboleth had vacated the Tate Modern. The dramatic installation claimed to have riven the Turbine Hall in two, giving its visitors much to think about in terms of divisions among society, race, wealth, war, etc. The News Hour consensus on this piece veered onto the sceptical side, and tended to climax in expletive-filled rants; it was also our belief that the floor had been built up and then drilled down, rather than actually damaging what was there initially. Having witnessed part of the construction process, we believed a fraud had been perpetrated on the nation.

All this seems a little silly now, especially as it appears we were wrong. Our correspondent was today startled to note that the original floor must indeed have been rent in two, if the ugly cement track now winding through the hall is anything to go by. We stand corrected. All this though, is by the by; a new, more terrible truth emerged during our correspondent’s visit; that this crack created on the base of the gallery has opened a portal into the very bowels of hell itself.

Our art critic Dr Elliot Forsthein was several floors up at the time, meandering between works that piqued his interest. While Shibboleth may have been silenced, the signs of the evil dripping through the walls was unmistakable. Bizarre sexual images from numerous projectors plastered the walls of one room, with barely a nod to any coherent concept of art with which he was familiar. Another room was hung with the macabre fascinations of the Viennese Actionists, a 1960s set that counted the invasive photographic dementia of Rudolf Schwarzkogler among its oeuvre. (Not to confused with the Vienna Secession.)

“The purpose of these works was undoubtedly that of evil. The armies of darkness are gathering,” Dr Forsthein remarked, thoughtfully stroking his beard before continuing, “and guiding them on the mortal plain will be the unspeakable one, the twister of colour and form. That Irishman had no business wearing the suit of a human, and it is ever to my discredit that his works have such a hold over me. The surreal, and sheer extraterrestrial force of Francis Bacon will return to kill us all.”

Dr Forsthein’s remarks came after his reappraisal of Bacon’s Second Version of the Triptych, a demented yet beautifully coloured work that has driven many insane with its intellectual tendrils. In recent weeks, the deep reds have transfixed increasing numbers of gallery-goers, who are left unable to eat, move, or even use the toilet. An entire underground hospital is being constructed under Lord’s cricket ground to provide support for the scarred, many of whom can never look at the colour red in the same way again. Most terrifying of all, the date for the invasion seems to have been set. And no one will do anything about it.