ANTI-JUBILEE COLLECTION - Featuring Banksy, dogs, monkeys, The Sex Pistols, Lemmy, a Lamborghini and s**t tattoos.
The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee will be happening soon. Everybody is getting excited. Everybody loves it. Nobody gives a flying fuck about nothing nowadays - apart from cats on the Internet and having a solid number of followers on Twitter – still, at the end of the day, everybody likes the Royalz, which is slightly weird because they don’t do much and they’ve got money, and for plenty of kids out there there’s No Future, but this is going to sound very Marxist, and Deleuzian and Johnny Rottensian, so I’ll shut up and show you a collection of Anti-Jubilee Artifacts, Statements, Collectables, and some other Shit.
1. Posters
An animal-friendly poster. Pets are more popular than Jesus, now. Sorry, John, George, Ringo and the other one.
“Fucking Hostile” celebration poster.
Betty the Zombie.
¡Revolution, compadre!
2. Prince Charlie Boy mask.
3. Assorted t-shirts.
Even the Queen hates hipsters (courtesy of LONDON FRIDGE).
“1952-2012 – 60 YEARS OF BEING BETTER THAN YOU.” (http://dailymash.shotdeadinthehead.com/product_view.aspx?pid=4506)
“THE QUEEN IS DEAD”, said Morrissey. (http://www.redmolotov.com/catalogue/tshirts/all/the-queen-is-dead-tshirt.html)
“NEVER MIND THE JUBILEE, HERE’S SOME DAYS OFF”, an homage to The Pistols. (http://www.shotdeadinthehead.com/)
“OFF WITH HER HEAD”, a rather straight-to-the-point statement. (http://www.redmolotov.com/catalogue/tshirts/anti-jubilee-tshirts/anti-jubilee-tshirt.html)
4. “Bling it up” Jubilee Sick Bag - http://lydialeith.bigcartel.com/product/jubilee-sick-bag-red
5. WTF chocolate.
6. A shit tattoo.
7. JubiLambo!
8. Another Banksy thing.
Banksy goes political, once again, and, once again, everybody goes “GENIUS!” and the Spaniards freak out and scream “BANSKY BANSKY BANSKY” twisting the order of the letters, but the result does not change.
9. An unusual Jubilee party for monkeys.
See more here http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/gallery/2012/may/29/monkey-tea-party-in-pictures
10. Finally, some good old fucking ROCK ‘N’ ROLL.
Here’s Johnny.
Johnny and the Royalz.
Here’s The Pistols
Here’s Lemmy (in some weird shorts).
And here’s Motörhead, motherfuckers.
BANKSY WHO? The alternative London street art scene.
Every Spanish tourist coming to London is very eager to see all this Banksy stuff on the walls, and when they see a shit copy printed on canvas in the market in Camden Town they get all excited, thinking that it is the real thing, they point at the squalid replica and say: ‘Mira, es un BANSKY’ - yes, they call him BANSKY, nobody knows why.
Don’t get me wrong, I respect Banksy, but there are so many street artists worth a mention in London town, going unnoticed because they are not fashionable enough for Dazed, and because Metro does not give two flying fucks about them, therefore the guy on the District Line ignores their opus.
Look at this ‘KILL DA HIPSTER’ thing, found in Shoreditch, home of the ‘Shoreditch Twats’.
What about this piece, lost somewhere in South London? Free, at last.
Who the fuck is Camilo? A cool dude, with a linear yet sophisticated style.
‘Jesus is alive’, just like Big Paul from Leeds and Big Rick from Bradford, mate.
Pablo Picasso is alive and stylish + Chinese graffiti and chihuahuas in Milan.
Two new blogs join the FRIDGE family: BARNA FRIDGE for the kids living or going to Barcelona, and MILANO FRIDGE for the ones who like bad weather and rude people.
BARNA FRIDGE: http://barnafridge.tumblr.com/
MILANO FRIDGE: http://milanofridge.tumblr.com/
EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE - Erased Graffiti and Empty Cider Can in New Cross.
Optimism in New Cross is like a fixed gear bike in the inland parts of Sudan - useless. Your dreams are growing and getting chubby, fed by the invisible hand of Rock ‘n’ Roll or Jazz or Mr. Satan himself, you are flying away from the decay of South London in November the 12th, a million reasons to say something and to do it now, before you start wasting your time producing/consuming/washing your car every Saturday morning. There it comes, you can feel it growing inside of your young elastic heart, it runs fast through your veins like a natural postmodern drug that makes your hair look like algae in the deep blue see, there is nothing you can do about it, you have to follow it, there is nothing the world surrounding you can do in order to stop it, nothing is impossible, today, tomorrow, in a bloodillion years to come. You scream it, you live it, you snort it, you write it on a wall: EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE.Then some cunt paints the wall, and that is the end of it. An empty can of cider lies next to your statement. The end.
