Oh, Banksy, Banksy, Banksy.

London Particulars


Today was a boring sort of day, when I did -I DON’T LIKE BANKSY THERE I SAID IT! Yeah, I know, as a middle-class guy with vague pretensions towards being bohemian in some half-arsed way I’m supposed to like Banksy’s work, but I just don’t.

It’s not that I think his stuff is bad per se, I just don’t think it’s all that good. I mean, some of it’s kinda funny, in that if you saw it on a greetings card half an hour before you were due to arrive at a friend’s birthday party you might consider buying it. But I don’t think he’s half so clever or witty as the critics make him out to be.

The thing is, he’s safely subversive. He’ll make some sort of point, but he won’t take you out of your comfort zone. He won’t implicate you, dear patron of the arts. He’ll…

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