I'm posting this because I recently acquired these photos from the nice lady who took them for the Birmingham Mail (she also happens to be my youngest brother's girlfriend. My heart goes out to her! Her familial relationship with me explains my photo's prominence in the Mail article!), because Mikey (the one with the V For Vendetta T-shirt and beard, top left) wanted the photos for the collective's website.
Also in the photos she sent me were the ones she took of me for an earlier exhibition called The Mathematical Explanations Behind Silly Drawings. (A wanky title, I know. Rest assured I had fuck all to do with it!) Above this paragraph is the one they used for the article, and it makes me look quite normal. Almost good-looking!
I think, when it comes to how I look, I'm kind of in the Coca-Cola championship in the English football league of looks, up there with the Ipswich Towns and Southamptons (also, quite aptly, those teams' glory days are long behind them!) not up there with the Man Uniteds or Arsenals, but not nearly as ugly as the Walsalls or the Leyton Orients.
(While I'm on football, I read an article last week about those people going to the FA cup final who didn't deserve to go [ and, after watching the shit that was served up, probably won't accept their free tickets next year.] and it mentioned Conservative leader David Cameron had professed himself an Aston Villa supporter. Aaaaarghhh!! Although he said he can only name about three players and didn't understand the offside rule, it makes me feel dirty that the leader of the Tories supports the same football team as me. He probably thinks that him saying stuff like that will make people like me vote for the twat, but it's more likely to make me stop supporting the club I've followed since before I could walk! Prince William and Tom Hanks have also said they follow the Villa, but I've never stood behind them in the queue for pies in the Holte End at half-time. I have stood behind Nigel Kennedy in the queue. He's still a twat, though. But, I digress.This should have been another post!)
Like I said, I thought I was a Championship-looking bloke. Then I saw the pics she didn't use! This one above makes me look like I've escaped from Highcroft Hospital. (This is a joke specific to Erdington, Birmingham, and I've moved from there now, so I don't get the reference anymore, either!) I look like someone who sleeps in a rubber room, and spends his days colouring in and cutting out pictures from magazines with plastic scissors, (as I might hurt myself with metal ones) and has been let out for the day to look at pretty pictures. Two of which I've just stolen because I like them. I've been relegated to Coca-Cola league one.
After seeing this one on the left, though, I've gone into freefall, had another bad season and dropped into the bottom tier for the first time in my club history. Just look at it! The rictus grin, the three chins, and the pig trotter-like hands! the only good thing about it is the fantastic statue of the Green Man behind me, with his plant-life penis. I love this sculpture. It reminds me of DC comics' Woodrue and Tolkein's Ents. (It's at the Custard Factory in Birmingham, if you ever want to take a butcher's at it.) I'm just glad the picture editor at the Mail knows his onions. Man, I feel low. What I need is a new chairman and a fresh injection of cash. Some young talent would be nice as well!
Okay. The football club analogy finishes here.