Strewth, I Wanna BeSick…..


It is the crack of bumrise…the foul stench of elitism and hypocrisy hangs over the Whitechapel Gallery…an exhibition has plopped that gives nepootism a bad name.

Works from the pubicly owned Government Art Collection will be on display, floating ominously from June 2011 to September 2012. They have been selected by a grimy slimy goose brained clique of career politicians, cronies and hangers on, including Samantha WhamBamthankyouCam (wife of David), Lord Mandybum (once minister in charge of the Millennium Dome), Deputy Prime Minister Nick Smeg, Dame Anne Pringle-Wingle (ambassador to Moscow) and malodorous spy chief Sir John Saw-arse. Perhaps the Whitechapel’s management hoped to grease the wheels of Establishment patronage by endorsing the taste of this band of aristocraps (£350,000 Arts Council England increase this year – arse sniffers). But was any thought given to the fact that right on the doorstep of the gallery is a community which is suffering more than most from vicious government spending cuts?

This is an area where the first language of many residents is not English. In the past, people could rely on ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) courses to improve their language skills. No more: last year, the government pestilentially slashed funding to these courses, cutting off a vital educational resource from thousands of Tower Hamlets residents.

Just across Whitechapel High Street from the gallery is one of the main buildings of London Metropolitan University, which has the highest intake of working-class students of any university in the UK. London Met is in the process of implementing cuts that will see an astonishing 70% of its courses, from Performing Arts to Caribbean Studies, eliminated. And, of course, fees for the few courses that do remain will double or perhaps even triple as a result of government education policy.

London Met’s students have little in common with the materially poovileged and narcissistic knights, dames, lords, consorts and other turds being invited to play at curating at the Whitechapel. These students have no interest in gusting along the corridors of power shrouded in ermine; few will spend much time sipping champagne, gobbling canapés and kiss kissying at private views. And now, because of the education cuts, many of us will never even have the chance to study the arts and humanities. In this context, the Whitechapel’s decision to play host to these dilettante grandees is not just tactless and inappropriate, but mocking and grotesque.

The Whitechapel’s show reeks of sycophancy. It is a sad truth that these powerful pampered parasites get used to flattery and as a result lose any self-awareness. Thus the spymaster Sir John Saw-arse had this to guff in the show’s catalogue about his choice of Claude Heath’s Ben Nevis: “I recall a negotiation on Iran I chaired sitting under this picture. When the going got tough between Americans, Europeans, Russians and Chinese, we took a break for tea and reflected on the art work. Agreement was reached an hour later.” La-di fucking-da! How hollow and rotten this proud boast is about art’s ability to bring people together against the backdrop of the impact of the coalition’s austerity policies!

When putrid people and infested institutions get lost in the smug bubble;

When they parade in designer clothes at inebriated private views just metres away from a working-class university in the process of being destroyed;

When the art world in effect shows sheer contempt for community, it becomes necessary to bring all concerned to their senses – that is, if they have any at all.

Perhaps the whiffing Whitechapel and its guest-star curators will stop to think now that they have a better idea of how much this show is the closest you’ll get to crapping whilst standing up.

MWAH MWAH, kisses and huggies.

(taken from: )