Ya Ya; Ta-Da (Da)

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!