After a discussion with Mr Gorilla Banana's , it was decided that The Beast needed to expand his intellectual horizons beyond an unnatural interest in donuts ,pull my finger gags and 'artistic' photography .
As Mr B is busy observing and analysing the visitors to the jungle , he has kindly given the Beast a list of cultural experiences , with the vain hope that something may stick .
First up was Tate Modern , The Beast dutifully scampered along with wild expectations of studies of nudes and stuff . I have to say I was a little disappointed , the only nudes I saw all came from somewhere called cubist , gawd knows whats in their drinking water , but all their bits where a funny shape and in the wrong places , avoid at all cost if they are doing a cheap deal in the Thomson summer sun brochure.
I did however bump into a very perplexed Miss Scarlet looking intently at a massive canvas.
"Oh Mr Beastie , I am so glad its you"
"What does this painting look like to you ??" She cried plaintively and nearly knocked me over with the agitated heave of a bosom.
Well I looked at the picture , walked back , walked to the side to make sure I wasn't missing something and then told Miss Scarlet it looked like a big old pile of dis-embodied tits
" Ooooh I knew I was right and this silly program must be wrong ,' A telling statement on the human condition ' my foot" Squealed a delighted Miss S .
Now I must rush , a perfectly dreamy French Art student is meeting me in the Cafe for a Ti sane and is going to show me his etchings. Goodness how continental!!!
with an excited squeal and a wave , she was gone .
The Beast wandered around some more , and is of the opinion that modern art is a bit of a racket , after all a pile of bricks is all said and done a pile of bricks , and a blue square may be an anarchic juxta position of angles against the barbarity of the blank wall to some , but to the Beast it was a blue square.
I shall be spending the evening slapping purple emulsion on my butt and making 'A post apocalyptic statement on feminism' by sitting on a bit of blank a4.
Get your cheque book ready Mr Saatchi the Beast has discovered his muse