Winning in the Snow

The Olympic Winter Games begin this week in Cortina, Italy. There is much excitement about the prospects for the British contestants. Let us not get too carried away. In 1988 and 1992 Britain won no medals. We did win two in 1994 but did not surpass this until 2014 and also 2018 when five were clocked. But 2022 saw a return to form with just two again.

Credit: Lebedev Evgeniy 

It's just not fair.  We are used to a certain sort of weather which in turn produces a certain sort of ground covering (see above), and it is not the pristine, fluffy deep snow that the skiers seek, nor are we blessed with lots of lakes that freeze up nicely for the skaters. It is time that there was a sports festival based on conditions in which our gallant athletes can truly compete:

• Slushboarding - contestants race over a pot-holed, slush covered road, trying to avoid keep left signs, speed bumps, badly parked cars and wobbling pedestrians. 
• Skating on thin ice - open to politicians of all parties as they make promises they cannot keep, affirm adherence to codes of conduct and swear loyalty to their leaders.
• The Overpass Dash - sprinters must race up and over ice-covered bridges to make a train connection
• Snowball fights - for individuals or teams. Spectators observe at their peril. No putting lumps of ice in the balls.
• Building a snowman, with both speed and artistic quality events. Scarfs may embody national colours. Competitors must supply lumps of coal and carrots.
• Stamping on puddles - Points are awarded for the height of splashes. 
• Snow on the line - A city tube network is crippled due to bad weather. Contestants must find the path between two stations that maximises the announcements about extensive delays, replacement services and time spent shivering on a platform waiting for trains that are terminated at the preceding stop.

Readers! Suggest new events for the Realistic Winter Games. 

The best suggestions will be forwarded to the organisers and any adopted will win a fabulous, no-expenses paid holiday to the first AirBnB we can find that will give us a free room in exchange for a plug in these hallowed columns. Send in your ideas to the usual address. Terms and conditions apply and, in accordance with the spirit of the Olympics, will be supplied in exchange for a massive backhander in a brown envelope.

 

Is it Art

 

source: Lynn News

 

A poignant drama played itself out this week in the Fens. Not the story about the idiot at Sainsbury's, the other one. The Banksy that wasn't. I imagine that all of Kings Lynn has been talking about nothing else.

If you are familiar with my philosophy of good art - Art - first expounded in this very column just 22 short years ago - then you will understand that I do not class Banksy or his imitators as producers of Art. Some of it raises a brief, wry smile which quickly fades. But others believe that, if a bit of graffiti is by Banksy, then it is valuable but if not, then it is just a nuisance to be obliterated as soon as convenient. That alone tells you his stuff is not Art, for surely if something is genuinely good art then it does not matter who created it.

Amongst the believers must be counted the authorities in Kings Lynn who, notified of the mysterious appearance of the defacement of a car park wall, rushed to protect it. I am amazed at their moderation. Surely the wall should have been instantly dismantled, brick by brick, and rebuilt in a newly created Banksy in Fenland exhibition in the Town Hall. The gift shop sales would have gone through the roof. 

Alas, protective screen or not, it appears that the hand of the master was lacking and the graffiti has been demoted. I have no idea how they can tell. I mean, they could have put up a discreet sign saying "Attributed to Banksy" or perhaps "School of Banksy" or "From the studio of Banksy" and no doubt the populace would still flock in. As it is, that screen must be taken down and put back in the cupboard labelled "Reserved for real Banksy's".

I don't how the whole process works. Are there inspectors snooping around town centres looking for works by the Master?  Do they have peaked caps marked "Art Warden" and the power to tell people to move along and not to obstruct the work of the screen builders? Indeed, once they find something that might be a Banksy, do they take up position, arms crossed and stern looks to the front, and wait for reinforcements?

How are the good folk of Kings Lynn coping with their bitter disappointment? Were the council in full session, back-slapping and broad smiles as they contemplated the massive corporate jolly that selling the windfall would produce? And then the grim faced town clerk sidles up to the Mayor.

"Not now, Albert, they're opening the next bottle"
"This can't wait, your worship. I'm afraid it's bad news. We've heard from the experts ..."
"Nay, lad, spit it out then. What has thou to say?"
"The Banksy - I - I can't say it..."

and a worried silence emanates from the two worthies that gradually chills the celebrants and the chance of a month visiting the twin town of Honolulu begins to fade. As they slip out into the night, in ones and twos, they can hear the clerk on his phone to the works department telling them to stand down.

It's a tough business, the art game, I'm telling you.