… and carry on

Okay so this one isn’t quite as mysterious as “Who put Bella in the wychelm?” and nor does it have the comedic potential of “M Khan is bent” but there’s something vaguely satisfying about scribbles on the wall that make you either think or chuckle – unless it’s on the side of your own house in which case there’s nothing more grindingly depressing.

I’m excluding Banksy and his clones from this because although I think Mr Banks is occasionally amusing (sometimes very amusing in fact) he is, in the words of the Mighty Brooker, a thundering backside. But then everybody hates a tourist.

It occured to me after processing this one that I’ve done a bunch recently with scribbles as either a background or subject. There’s this one at the entrance to the Leake Street tolerance zone, this one inside said zone and this one of a gritty urbanised train making its way through leafy and not especially gritty Little Chalfont. Even a scribbled on van.

Having the another tolerance zone under the Queen Elizabeth Hall (from whence this none graffiti but still skater shot) means I should really take loads of shots under there but to do so I’d have to get past all the tourists enjoying their own walk on the wild side and venturing ten yards into the brutality of modern life with a point and shoot and a very quick escape route.

I should probably put all the ones I have taken together in a set though.

Until I do though see this one large here.


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