Damian Hirst’s paintings are not just bad, they are deliciously bad. These hesitant little daubs are a towering edifice of talentless tat. They’re canvasses only a mother could love. This is the Emperor shouting his nakedness to any who would listen. The characteristically grandiose title ‘No...

just tuned the teli in to the new digitarse signal and found myself watching 'Loose Women'............., before you know I'll be slumped every afternoon, in my pants, large belly bulging over my elasticated waistline, porridge spilled down my vest, awaiting death, time eroded by teli entertainment...

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