Hello Blog!

Sorry for the vacuum.

I haven’t been able to locate an internet connection until today.

I premiered my new lecture Did Priya Pathak Ever Get Her Wallet Back? the night before last, which seemed to go well.

It’s all about the complex relationship between my work and the police.

I performed it in Tramway 1, by far the largest venue I have ever performed in, at about 700 seats.

The next confirmed performance of the lecture will be at the Bishopsgate Foundation. London, on March 16th, which should be interesting as the venue is next door to a Police Station, and I’m planning on giving the cops free tickets.


Front View



Rear View


You know that French woman who had the face transplant?

I quite fancy her.

But only the transplanted bits.

Is this wrong?


Having blown the whistle on the shocking state of security at Arnolfini last Sunday, I am now in a position to disclose the access codes for the security doors at Tramway in Glasgow.

But I shall not do so, for the pragmatic reason that the Scottish scare me much more than Bristolians.

In Somerfield, for instance, the lady at the till bent my French bread in half like an iron bar, before putting it into the carrier bag.

I've not been eating properly, either.

Although I did have an interesting discussion with a Belgian man last night about the conundrum of where to keep your cigarettes when visiting naturist sex clubs in Paris.

(Answer: In your sock)

And an American lady asked me if my work was informed by Post-Deconstructuralist Theory.

I lied and said yes.


As part of my role as Artist In Residence at the National Review of Live Art, I've been giving out these stickers:



So far at the NRLA I've seen

2 tits

and

0 cocks

(and the tits were on a video, so I don't think they count).


I had a dream the other night that I was getting off with an Alsatian dog.

I wonder what that signifies?