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I could sit in a pub and tell you all the things that are written in this book but you wouldn't fucking listen. It's better for both of us if I spend my time hiding in bushes waiting to spray little pictures on other people's property.

NobodY ever listened to me and I used to think that was their fault. Eventually I got to realise maybe it was the fact I was boring and paranoid that was the problem. But you fmd that people who know you rarely listen. If you want to say something and have people listen then you have to. If you want to be honest then you have to live a lie. Being yourself is overrated anyway. It doesn't help. People say 'I'm just being myself' as if that's some kind of fucking achievement.

That's not an achievement, that's not honesty, it's lack pf imagination and cowardice. Police say they have not yet been able to identify the man.. But why are so few prepared to learn to draw? Keeping it real Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled a great and glorious nation.

Favourite amongst his subjects was the court painter of whom he was very proud. Everybody agreed this wizzened old man painted he greatest pictures in the whole kingdom and the king would spend hours each day gaZing at them in wonder. However, one day a dirty and dishevelled stranger presented himself at the court claiming that in fact he was the greatest painter in the land.

The indignant king decreed a competition would be held between the two artists, confident it would teach he vagabond an embarrassing lesson. Within a month they were both to produce a picture so glorious it would make grown men cry. After thirty days of working feverishly day and night, both artists were ready. They placed their paintings, each hidden by a cloth, on easels in the centre of the great hall of the castle. As the large crowd strained to see, the king ordered the cloth to be pulled first from the court Artist's easel.

Everyone gasped as before them was revealed a wonderful scene - a table set with a feast fit for a king, at the centre of which was an ornate silver bowl full of exotic fruits. As the crowd gazed admiringly, a sparrow perched high up on the rafters of the hall swooped down and hungrily tried to snatch one of the grapes from the painted bowl only to hit the canvas and fall down dead with shock at the feet of the king.

But the tramp remained motionless and said nothing. Growing impatient, the KIng stepped forward and reached out to grab the blanket only to freeze in horror at the last moment. This is actually just a painting of a cloth covering a painting. And Whereas your famous artist is merely content to fool Nature, I've made the King of the whole country look like a clueless little cunt'. Source: man 'in a pub. On my first day of work as a pork butcher the boss showed me a side of meat and said 'just treat the animal like you treat the ladies'.

He then hacked off part of the rib cage with a swing of his cleaver, threw it in a polystyrene tray, pulled some cellophane tightly around it, bounced it off his knee and threw it over his shoulder into a bucket. It turned out he hadn't had a girlfriend for over two years.

Bridge painting in murder mile, Hackney. Supposedly an area with more shootings per head than Soweto. I was concerned the piece was a bit too much like a legitimate sign and told my. The Rat Pack Like most people I have a fantasy that all the little powerless losers will gang up together.

That all the vermin will get some good equipment and then the underground will go overground and tear this city apart. What I didn't realise until then was the park which houses the zoo is also home to the Catalan parliament.

It is exceptionally well lit, peppered with security cameras and patrolled by armed Guardia Civil in high powered jeeps. I was creeping through the bushes at the edge of the park when the first patrol took me by surprise and I dived into the shrubbery a bit too late. The jeep slowed to a stop IOOft away and I crouched down trying to breath quietly, with my back against the outer fence of the zoo.

After a few moments no-one got out. Nothing happened. I was wondering if they were waiting for back up or had missed me altogether. Zoo's are strange places at night, the animals make a lot of demented noises. As I crouched in my position, footsteps approached from behind. I wasn't sure if Spanish cops used their guns on people running away. The steps on the other side of the fence came. I turned to look through the fence but it was covered in so much ivy I couldn't see a thing.

The fear was properly on me. In my mind I was forming a story about how I was a penniless traveller with no hotel room sleeping rough in the park, and that I always carried 12 cans of spraypaint, a climbing rope and stencils with me. I held my breath, parted the ivy leaves, and came eyeball to eyeball with a fucking huge kangaroo. At which point I very nearly shit myself. After a few minutes the Guardia jeep started up and drove away across the park.

I crawled further down the fence and lay against a tree,. But a few moments later a loud hissing noise brought me round. I looked down the fence and heard another hissing noise and then saw a jet of water shoot out from behind a bush.

Before I had a chance to move, a metal sprinkler at my feet exploded and sprayed cold water all over me. I took off my trousers and tried to wring the water out of them thinking it was time to go home. But as I dried my crotch with a.

It described how Jesus Suarez Gayol had rushed into a radio station in Pinar del Rio in broad da;ylight carrying a fused stick of dynamite in one hand and a pistol in the other. After removing the fuse he somehow caught himself on fire.

Stripped to his underpants, with severe burns on his legs, he rushed out into the street, just as the building blew up, coming face to face with a policeman. Luckily for him the shocked policeman ran awa;y. Then, still waving his pistol he ran down the street and leapt into an old woman's house. She happened to be a rebel sympathiser and hid and treated his wounds until he could be smuggled out of the province. I had read this story and wondered why life always seemed to be happening to someone else.

But it taught me what you are able to achieve without your trousers on. Within five minutes I had climbed both fences and was inside the zoo.

British zoo's helpfully have pictures of the animals on a board at the front of each enclosure. Barcelona zoo doesn't do this and I don't know any Spanish so I was taking extra care before entering each pen. I was moving at speed putting up tags on the penguin, giraffe, bison and gazelle enclosures. A Spanish kid had translated 'Laugh now but one day we'll be in charge' for me on a small piece of paper. Crouching next to a huge pile of dung my mind froze up.

I can order lager in Spanish but not much else. I couldn't even think of how you would write 'Help us' in any language other than English. So I crouched there getting more and more miserable. For the next twenty minutes I went through all th. I checked my watch for the fifteenth time and then figured this was my best option - ticking off the time in classic jailhouse style.

So I weighed in- five cans of fat black, scrawling this over every available surface of the entire enclosure. Then crept away quietly. The following afternoon I didn't get any photos of the elephant enclosure. Emergency cleaners had been working hard on it. It's a very frustrated feeling you get when the only people with good photos of your work are the police department. They don't shut until nine o'clock at night and only then do the shutters come down. This has given the stencil a kind of adult-only rating as it never gets seen before the nine o'clock watershed.

Policemen and security guards always wear hats with a peak that comes down low over their eyes. Apparently this is a psychological technique because eyebrows are very expressive, they let you down if you're lying or trying to bully somebody.

You have far more authority if you keep them covered up. The advantage of this is that it makes it difficult for your average cop to see anything more than six foot off the ground. Which is why painting rooftops and bridges is so easy. Tuesday I went round San? By dribbling a can of paint from the top of a building I made a dubious looking rope and then stencilled a character underneath. The bouncers outside a club down on the street look up, one of them points at us, a guy walking his dog stops to look up and then a cab pulls in and the driver leans out the Window to see what the fuss is all about and starts shouting in Spanish and beeping his horn.

All the time I kept thinking of that phrase 'hip hop is not a spectator sport'. Vandals Twisted little people go out every day and deface this great city. They just take, take, take and they don't put anything back. They're mean and selfish and they make the world an ugly place to be. We call call them advertising agencies and town planners.


Banksy Existencilism Book

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Existencilism by Banksy, Used, First Edition

I could sit in a pub and tell you all the things that are written in this book but you wouldn't fucking listen. It's better for both of us if I spend my time hiding in bushes waiting to spray little pictures on other people's property. NobodY ever listened to me and I used to think that was their fault. Eventually I got to realise maybe it was the fact I was boring and paranoid that was the problem.



Published by Weapons of Mass Distraction Seller Rating:. About this Item: Weapons of Mass Distraction, Soft cover. Condition: Near Fine.


Existencilism. Los Angeles, July 2002.


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