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I have never been one to covet those four
little white stitches. But today I bought a Da Da sculpture. A jumper: Maison
Martin Margiela for H&M. Acrylic football scarves sliced in half then sewn
back together. You can see no team names and the team colours clash in a
non-logical progression of gaudy stripes. I have never supported a football
team. I know a lot of good can come from it but a football scarf remains a symbol
of division for me rather than pride: something that entices the rival gang to
get riled, a beer breath burb that carries on the breeze a whiff of the threat
of violence. Shouting...
Lager lager lager. Shouting… Mega mega white thing. Well now all the teams are
a fruit salad. Democratic Da Da jumper of anti hate how fetching you look with
my new bobble hat. Margiela for all! Art for all! Love
for all! No longer need you be rich nor knowing nor elitist nor inserted up
your own backside, because now we are all the same. There are no team names or
team colours we can all play. Like the well intentioned ‘help’ in a bourgeoise household
who thought those bastard four white tacs were supposed to be removed, I’m
going to take my scissors and snip away at any four little white threads that
remain. Rip out your labels and tie your paintings to lamp posts and wear your
MMM H&M jumper to the Cabaret Voltaire!