The Impressionist stumbled into yet another art
installation.
A wet day, an hour before the football starts, a billboard for a fairground attraction of exotic delight mixed with intellectual frissance ... and - too late - you're in and so you'd better look as though you're
interested.
Another black and white video of people washing dishes, on a bus. Better than watching paint dry, which, curiously enough, is the next exhibit as the artist in a liotard carefully applies some orange paint to an orange and then peers at it board still for 5 minutes while it dries.
Oh the self-deprecation - one could weep. And one did.
And then the football.
An ordinary game played by ordinary men doing things that everyone can already do. People who can run, jump, catch and kick a ball, or an opposing player. People who can dive and make it look like they were pushed, or roll about in feigned agony until the other guy gets yellow carded.
Somehow it was reassuring when in a darkened catchpenny at the funfair you could easily see that the 'monstrous she devil with eight arms' really had only the usual number and in fact was a legal secretary with a husband, a mortgage, 3 kids and a dog.
It was easy to tell the ordinary from the heroic.
There are no heroes now - only ordinary boys and girls who dun good. Which means got rich.
When UK Member of Parliament David Davies resigned his seat to make a point about creeping erosion of civil liberties, there was an astounded double take from pundits and parliament. It was simply beyond their comprehension that someone could take a stand on a matter of principle.
Their cynicism has become our cynicism.
Dan Dare was a chisel jawed strip cartoon space hero in a British kids' comic called the Eagle published in the 50s and 60s. He and his sidekick Digby sat side by side in their spaceship 'Anastasia' battling the Mekon, a Venusian with the usual evil intentions to take over the world, etc. Good, of course, always triumphed.