"I mean, I know they're trying but this just isn't Geoffrey's kind of place. What's the point us even being here? I only agreed to do it because Brenda did my shoe that time."


"I know. This is like your ultra-modern no-cherubim zone. All I could see were a lot of those heartbreaking bedraggled teddy bears - man, those things make me sad. We should really head back."

When Joey 'Meatballs' Traviati pointed the spot out to him, all his qualms about selling his grandmother's antique decanter miraculously vanished.


"Yeah, me and Vivienne kind of came up with it together. Yeah. Fresh."

Ash thinks:

Oh no look, you can see my feet. There's probably a joke in that, maybe. Like a joke on the mistake of my feet, kinda thing? Kind of a self-deprecating thing on lack of photography skills. Or on the rather tacky mirror-shine of these black gravestones. They're like the Jordan's wedding dress of memorials, really.

If only Jimmy Carr was here, to distract me with his eerie foetusy face, then I could think of one. Or maybe Tommy Cooper. He was great, him. You know that bit where he said "Before I go, I just want to say this. 'This'." And then just wheezed at himself, like, "I love how silly I am." Oh, I used to love him. He's dead now. I wonder where he's buried. Probably not a funny grave though. Not like Spike Milligan's which has 'I told you I was ill' on it. Heheh. He knew what it was about, did Spike. I bet Jimmy Carr won't have anything funny on his grave. Maybe just 'You know, that bloke who was on The Friday Night Project but wasn't the really camp one with the same name. Remembered fondly and with... oh you know, the one with raisins for eyes.'

I can't believe my feet got onto that. I probably shouldn't use it. There's nothing funny about the name or anything. Wonder why I even took it in the first place. Oh well. I want a Toffee Crisp.

He partied.


He partied hearty.


He kind of got stuck with the clearing-up.

Oh, I can't. I just can't. It's too perfect.

No, seriously. I think we should just take a moment to contemplate this wondrous serendipity. It needs nothing more.




Sigh.

"Well, there's something you don't see every day."

"Hey, Lois, look! The two symbols of the Republican party: an elephant and a big fat white guy who's threatened by change."


He were a bit thick, like.


He had always wanted to try monkey brains.

Peace, schmeace.

scatter sez 23.11.06


Must just point out that the next few shots (the ones above ere, like) are of one of the unloveliest cemeteries I've seen. Obviously you can't expect a modern one to have the tumbledown gorgeousity of a Victorian one in a dishevelled aboretum full of mystique and unexploded WWII bombs, but there's no excuse for this level of bleakness. Main features were treacherously slippery wooden steps (well, y'know, bums on seats - you've got to break a few necks to get ahead in this game) and, worse, industrial loose pebbling throughout. So wherever you walk you CRUNCH. Not really CRUNCH conducive CRUNCH to quiet CRUNCHtemplation of CRUNCH and CRUNCHCRUNCHSCRAPYCRUNCH.

If only this was a better picture I would totally use it.


Ask not for whom the bell dings. It dings FOR THEE.

Meant.


Immovable.


Did.

He liked to party.

But is it really though? Is it? Really?

In life, he was beset on all sides by pharmaceutical spam No, that is not funny.


Hey - it was the 70s.

"No... no, he's not up there. Ooh, but there's my frisbee."

Collectively, they were regarded as something of an embarrassment.

rest in a conceptual piece, 2006 (stone/moss)

By boldly removing one arm and placing it at an oblique, bewildering, arresting angle atop the lopsided and almost emasculated (yet paradoxically strengthened and perhaps even ennobled) monument, Blurston invites us to see stone - indeed life itself, to say nothing of death - with different, warier, more heart-like eyes. A coruscating, devastating confit of compressed emotion that is yet as cold as the unquiet grave, the artist punishes and yet caresses the observer with the loving pugilism of a kitten named Muhammad Ali.

(Rupert - will this do? I have a thing to go to. N)

"No, I don't think he could fit in there. Not after that burger phase he had, remember? I've still got the ketchup on my plinth. He was listening to a lot of The Vines at the time."


"I never liked him, personally. He used to accuse me of having had Photoshop. I mean, I've got nothing against that myself - if people want to look better, then totally, that's fine, go ahead - but I've worked hard, y'know? Especially after the accident. So it was kind of insulting. I mean, I'm not made of sto - well, you know what I mean."

"He went that way. Yeah. I think he was going for fags, he said. Suppose it might have been another one. Those grubby cherubim all look the same to me."


"What? I can't remember what he was wearing. It was either robes, or naked with a bit of swirly loincloth thing going on. Oh wait - it might have been an Evanescence t-shirt."