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Sad Facts

Brain News For Crenellated Minds

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HE'S DONE IT AGAIN

It's 2:05pm and I'm wandering the Tate Modern looking for a sharpener I left here when I came in earlier to use the toilet. I have a Year Pass, so the toilets are open to me all year long, a private haven. The sharpener is nowhere to be seen, presumably sucked up into a sack of dust by an over-zealous cleaner.

It's 2:25pm and a huge explosion has ruptured the western side of the second floor gallery. People are screaming.

2:27pm. An older gentleman, covering his head and shoulders with his jacket to evade falling debris, is shouting, "This'll probably be a Banksy." A few people stop to take in the announcement. Fewer still turn and run back to photograph the blaze.

2:31pm. News of the theory has spread. People are shouting "It's Banksy," and, "He's done it again!" while tackling the second floor staircase.

2:36pm. The smoke is suffocating. People are still shouting but it's much quieter. One woman breathing through her scarf is trying to take some of the fire home with her for resale.

2:42pm. There are many people on the floor, unmoving.

2:45pm. He's done it again.

EPIPHANY

Recently I was struck by a vast epiphany that blew open my nog and lay open my mind to permit the entire panoply of colour that makes up life's rich tapestry. I realised for the first time that we are all living things made up of the same fundamental component: energy. We all breathe, love and die in unison and all our petty squabbles are merely distractions from the miracle of our own existence.

Unfortunately, this moment of clarity came in the middle of my mate Gareth's stag do, as I commando-rolled over a knackered bit of log at The Skirmish Zone paintball arena just outside Rotherham.

It was a real conundrum. I was appalled by the simulated warfare but didn't want to let down Gaz, who was both nervous about getting married and reliving his dream of a military career for the first time since getting dismissed from the Territorial Army for throwing a fidget spinner at his commanding officer.

Reluctantly, I decided I'd need to put this conceptual paradigm shift on hold until after the stag do weekend was complete, maybe until after the ceremony. Kneeling in the paint-smeared woodchips, I pushed my fingers into my brow, sunk these new ideas deep into my psyche and promptly forgot about them indefinitely.

Sean Morley

Next article in issue 129

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