Wannabes

I’m beyond irritated and feel the need to vent.

It must be sad to be young, full of ambition but lacking any perceivable talent or direction. However, I’d appreciate it if such individuals would refrain from venting their dissatisfaction through the medium of graffiti on the studio toilet walls.

When I reported the huge, whiny, spray canned scribblings to the building managers, their first response was, ‘is it good?’

Well no. Banksy it was not. Not extinction rebellion either.

No political/social comment, no aesthetically interesting visuals, no humour, no informative content.

Unless of course the instruction to ‘suck your mum’ could be applied in some remote circumstance where your mother gets bitten by a snake and you have to get the poison out of her system speedily like you see in old cowboy movies.

In which case, ok, great.

The paint was wet when I discovered the offending scrawl during an open studio drinks reception. Marmalade, myself and a studio manager scrubbed it off remarkably easily. Now the immature bleatings are nothing more than smudges on tile grout, I apply this description literally to the graffiti and metaphorically to the sad jerk vandals who made it.

If you want to moan about your personal grievances, get a blog like me, it’s much less messy and causes minimal disturbance to those around you, none of whom care that you didn’t get accepted at your chosen art college. I should probably at this juncture, apologise to any individuals who have stumbled on my rants while looking for ‘diet and lifestyle’ tips. Sadly there’s not a ‘moany old tart’ category. Perhaps WordPress could consider it.

Unfortunately, my sparkly Koala Bear dish scourer didn’t survive the wall cleaning process.

I would mourn it more if I hadn’t just found a sparkly Sloth one to replace it.