Not since the St Stephen's Day tsunami of 2004 has Mother Nature, that most spiteful of all the mothers, done so much to shatter the hopes, the dreams, the very lives of so many innocents. At 5.55pm the tweet came through:
'ANNOUNCEMENT: Due to high winds, we have had to cancel the Macnas event for health and safety reasons. Please do not go to the venue. Pls RT.'
Dear God No, I thought and instantly tweeted. For it is in moments like these that my hyper religious don't kill me kill the gays true colours come to light. Why? Why? Why must fate by so cruel?
Sometimes I say something that displeases my younger daughter, along the lines of "Bedtime. Tidy." or "Your magic rectangle half an hour is up." or "Stop being an irriational, paranoid, self-centered replica of your father." And she will often reply, more, I suspect, in hope than expectation, "Are you being sarcastic?". Take from this what you will.
I fucking hate Macnas. Macnas and all their parade-based countrified ilk. What the fuck even is it? Art? Art, I believe, should either have something to say about the human condition, or failing that, engender some kind of emotion in its audience. Some kind of emotion outside of a bilious "Why the fuck are these unwashed longhairs getting my tax dollars to put on crappy costumes and prance about the place like a pack of stoned show ponies?" that is. But ooh the colours! Ooh, they're so high up! Ooh, that must have taken ages! Fucking wow. Colours I can get from jamming my fists in my eyes. None of these cunts on stilts are as high as the top story of my house. And if I have a salad bowl full of muesli tonight, it's going to take me an awful long time to squeeze one out tomorrow morning. But will the exhibition of my grain fed turd be cancelled tomorrow due to high winds? It will not. This is not art. It's not even entertainment. It's just people with too much time on their hands fucking about for the distraction of other people with too much time on their hands. Forget Big Tobacco, folks, joyfully abandon Lockheed Martin. The industry that we need to bring to its knees, the one that is slowly but surely sucking the life from us all, is the one that cunningly has no official name but that I shall henceforth term 'People Creating Shit For Other People To Stand Around And Stare Vacantly At'.
Mother Nature, the most just of all the mothers, is on my side. You should be too.