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Archive for May, 2008

Is there anything more deliciously dangerous than the engulfing, sticky sweetness of musty, milky motherlove? It’s the unctious umbilical ambrosia that makes us all into trapped, tantrumming tarbabies. But it sure does taste like heaven on a rusk.
The west end’s latest fringe fosterling, That Face, is a spunky little warning about the parallel perils of [...]

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It’s time I came clean. Despite my fastidious facade as an A-List arbiter of aesthetic excellence - nay, the veritable Taste Tsarina of the zeitgeist - I have a sordid secret.
I am reading a fantasy novel.
I’m not talking Tolkien, with his musty, spunk-smelling arcania and fey, gay little songs. I don’t even mean the semi- [...]

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A Bank Holiday alone: a shimmering, cerulean depot of dreams. Plans are afoot.
Tonight I will spray an HB tag on Lambeth Tunnel at the Cans Festival, Banksy’s international street art gathering; on Saturday I will wander round Thomas Hope: Regency Designer at the V&A, drawing lissom little sketches in my Moleskine, before getting folked with [...]

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