BLESS THIS BLAST THAT

Bless Wyndham Lewis for inventing the blast.
Bless St Derek Jarman, patron saint of the cinema of small but significant gestures.
Bless the vulpine.
Bless J.G. Ballard for following his obsessions to the end of the road.
Bless Terence Davies for a cinema that aspires to the condition of music.
Bless the lupine.
Bless English humour, bless Arthur Askey, Tommy Trinder, Reg Varney.
Bless Ted Milton for his sly poetry and abandoned sax.
Bless Peter Greenaway for his deadpan humour and unashamed erudition.
Bless the sceptic.
Bless William Blake for seeing the angels.
Bless Humphrey Jennings - a rare bird of a double feather, English polymath, English Surrealist.
Bless Denton Welch for discovering the world by staring in the mirror.
Bless the porcine.
Bless the truly romantic.
Bless our Albion.
Bless B.S. Johnson, the prole art threat.
Bless my endless stream of bile.




Blast the mugwumps at Channel 4 for stealing my work.
Blast Thatcher and Blair, may they rot in Hell.
Blast all politicians everywhere, from all directions of the political compass.
Blast all priests and gurus.
Blast all censors.
Blast the humourless.
Blast Ken Livingstone, a liar, a dog, a conservative pretending to the status of the radical.
Blast the cynic.
Blast the lumpen bourgeoisie.
Blast Nicholas Serota and the stranglehold his dead hand exerts.
Blast the exploiters of the lowest common denominator.
Blast the purveyors of fake sentimentality.
Blast the merchants of kitsch.