Last year I read an article that began:
The double Olympic champion didn’t know whether to laugh or cry after spotting Emma Fitch’s mis-spelt work of art [a tatoo] during a walkabout in Kent.
I’ve seen tatoos justified as “art” before. ART?? Puhleeeze!
Perhaps persons moved to become collectors of such AHHHRRRT ought to start by sampling paintings of Leonardo’s “Last Supper” on black velvet — maybe one of those where Elvis is seen pouring the wine. Then at least when the collector comes to his senses he can just take it off the wall and throw it in the trash where it belongs rather than chop his arm off.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
P.S. For those who are unaware of it — Elvis was not one of the apostles.
