Where have you been David?

David didn't know, but his brain plugged in to the computer sure did. As it scanned through various star charts to the shock of the extras in Flight of the Navigator, it pulled up systems that weren't even in NASA's databanks. The answer David's brain gave to where he'd been all this time: In analysis mode on Phaelon.

Sounds great!

Click on image for some analysis mode action

My mind has been pondering over that line since I saw the film 25 years ago; Analysis mode. There's something quite reassuring about that concept. Like as in I wouldn't be expected to mow the lawn or anything. Which, by the way, I did a lot of as a child and is just about the least favourite activity available to me in this universe. Although something inside me says I'll probably really love doing it when I'm 55. Proof of Satan's existence?

The other least favourite activity available to me in this universe goes to........ shopping. With particular emphasis on shopping down the High Street. High Streets are hell. We all know it. Now let's start talking about it.

If it's not the High Street metaphorically beating the crap out of me, it's IKEA.

No sooner have I walked in to the place, my eyes are mysteriously closing shut. I went recently in support of someone else and thought it a choice opportunity to eat some meatballs for a quid. Contrary to all the efforts of IKEA's merchandising team, the standout moment of the day for me (apart from the meatballs) was when a woman complained that her 50p hot dog was getting cold whilst she waited for her 50p chips to come out of the deep fryer. My heart literally bled for her.

Far out, IKEA really needs some spicing up doesn't it. Like a store re-design from the team behind Cirque du Soleil. Or some psyched-up-to-the-eyeballs American screaming at grunts fighting over a 99p toilet brush. Or Holly Hunter playing the role of a sexually repressed, secretly lesbian drill sergeant.

Or Corporal Ferro from Aliens...

Or maybe Joy Behar from The View?

SHIT. I'm getting totally carried away. There's something about Joy Behar that makes me feel ALIVE.

Post IKEA-haze I managed to haul my large backside onto my bike and bumped and ground my way through the peaceful and sunlit Lea Valley Regional Park. I felt totally at ease. A bit of a rarity considering I live on an estate sandwiched between two retail death zones of propaganda, Canary Wharf and Stratford. Both places could really do with a Lea Val injection. Or in lieu of that, a David Bade exhibition. Bade's work has all the colour, freakishness and curiosity that Canary Wharf is devoid of, and all the thought, questioning and character that Stratford refuses to let in.

Art and expression.

Another piece by Bade. 








To stay the descent into madness I repeat my mantra as often as possible;

"Don't Let The Suburbs Get You Down".

It's the mentality of the suburbs that will ultimately atrophy your body and your will.

A girl I know said to me recently...

"You can't really succeed at being ethical in society, all you can do is reduce. Reduce the amount of shit you're consuming until you're stripped back down to the basics"

In all honestly I would LOVE to see that last line enscribed on a cast iron arch over the A11 as you pull in to Stratford.

Either that, or...

"Get some standards bitch"

PS: I love Joy Behar to the max.