“Frances; Perpetual Self-Mastectomy [I]”, 20″x15″. Phil Barrington, 2015. Giclée print.
“M. Dubois placed me upon the Mattress, & spread a cambric handkerchief upon my face. It was transparent, however, & I saw, through it, that the Bedstead was instantly surrounded by the 7 men & my nurse. I refused to be held; but when, Bright through the cambric, I saw the glitter of polished Steel – I closed my Eyes. I would not trust to convulsive fear the sight of the terrible incision. Yet – when the dreadful steel was plunged into the breast – cutting through veins – arteries – flesh – nerves – I needed no injunctions not to restrain my cries. I began a scream that lasted unintermittingly during the whole time of the incision – & I almost marvel that it rings not in my Ears still?” Frances Burney.
“Britannia; Nationalism as a Urine-Soaked Rag”
15″x20″. Phil Barrington, 2014. Giclée print from Colour Transparency with dyes & debris. Edition of 3.
Thank you England, for your hollow totems and pointless turfwars.
Thank you for The Daily Mail – with their falsified loathing of difference and of change.
Thank you for the tweeting bigots and instahate reactionary-drooling toddlers.
And thank you for all the divisions you’ve strived between the destitute and the have-somes, handsome.
Thank you England, for the loss of innocence and your dark momentary replacements.
Thank you for the Big Fail – with our falsified ambitions and food banks – the only banks the poor can shelter within.
Thank you for a Candy Crush-coloured obscuring of pain and desolation; of the fatal old, abused young and desperate middle-aged.
And thank you for the trappings of a “Christian Country”, where humble empiricists are shunned by monstrous zionists.
Thank you England, for the ever-decreasing circles of rationality, fracked open by blonde-haired jellyfish from central city.
Thank you for the bankers on bail – with their terminal grins and loose change thrown to the gutter.
Thank you for breeding the Sweating Alpha Necks, with their flag-waving beaten wives and empty gurns on the shit-cobbled streets of provincia.
And thank you for the reliably-enforced distrust of all authority and resulting inertia of your electorate, ensuring that your populace will never discover a new governing system.
Thank you England. Keep Calm and Die as a Bankrupt Killing. It’s what they were elected to do.
After a portrait of myself drawn by the highly skilled artist and old pen-friend Chris O’Toole last year, I now feature in a menacing role within the first issue of his comic “BUST”, written by Dave Cook.
It’s a fantastic read, with lots of the old ultraviolence, explicit gore, mutants and vicious hand-to-hand combat in a barren post-apocalyptic land of conflict and despair. A bit like tory Britain but with added swordplay.