This is Jasper Joffe. He’s very high here. High on hubris. High on being Jasper Joffe. As if the Britart “me, me, me ” generation hadn’t gone far enough – as if Tracey Emin sketching herself masturbating (how did she hold the pencil steady?) wasn’t onanistic enough to put you off your copy of Art Now – Jasper Joffe has recently also concluded that l’art c’est moi. Read more »
One of the biggest bummers about this place is every time you see a group of dickheads you don’t know if they’re Mad Max ginos or a gang of fucking murderers who just got through turning a guy into sand. It gets to the point where the only time it’s safe to take the piss is when you’re looking at a photo of them and writing about it in a magazine. “Hey New Wave Polacks, what are you, the bouncers from Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow? Ha ha ha. What’s that? What did you just say? Huh? Ha! I thought so. Fucking chickens.”
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If strip clubs were honest about what lay behind their doors they’d have flickering pink neon signs of this chief hanging out front and they’d all be named Frustration McLonely’s.
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