Date: 08 September 2001
Some phenomenally successful posing took place last night: the floating creamy lumps in a pint of full-fat milk of British Society were all there to survey the scene at this at this fabulous venue, under St Pancras’ railway arches, and dance to the foot-tappin’ sounds of classic eighties hits.
What of the Art? Well, I particularly liked a lumpy kind of canvas on the wall – very reminiscent of some well-known work a few years back by Kathy Prendergast. Then there was a giant white ball with a bloody trail which a drunk successfully kicked across the room, though luckily not as far as the loo, which by 10 pm had become a kind of swampish no man’s land (despite or because of the fact that the urinal was closed off?) – though I must say the queues featured some exceptionally good humoured people. There was also some plastic thing that got turned upside down and trashed halfway through the night – at least, I think it did – there was far too much free vodka for me to remember that kind of thing. Paintings were knock-out, though.
There was also some dwarfish MeeJa attention. Phew, what a scorcher.
P.S. Neither Ben nor Jasper wrote this review.
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