by Philip Lee
NO RELIABLE INTELLIGENCE
IS USED IN THE MANUFACTURE & MAINTENANCE OF THESE PRODUCTS
After getting chucked out of drama school¹,
this earlier version of Philip Lee – in a gesture of inverse snobbery – became a
street sweeper for Westminster City Council. Oxford Circus being the centre of their
patch, in the following months the subject could be seen wearing hobnail boots
pushing a wheelbarrow through streets broad and narrow, crying Mind Yer
Backs. It was a truly idyllic time. One day, a rich American tourist
stopped, wiped away a tear and gave the sweeper a pound. Another, some poor
American dropout asked if – like the
fellas on the dust in NYC – the job paid a huge salary. The sweeper
responded to both these philanthropic outpourings with alacrity. And ever the
performer with toes dipped in character, parked the barrow down a back alley to
meet up with Riddy for Afternoon Tea in a Regent Street café - those dirty great
working gloves plonked on the table between scones and clotted cream bowl. The
year was 1977, when honest jobs could still be found by the working class. But
the spectre of Margaret Thatcher was looming; within a few years of economic sturm
und drang, even the lowliest forms of employment would be fought over like
scraps cast from the banquets of yuppies making their fortunes off the backs of
factory closures and export of manufacturing jobs to the Far East.
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ALL DATA IS WASHED IN SPRING WATER, SUN
DRIED, SMEARED WITH ORGANIC GARDEN WASTE AND SERVED WHOLE.
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| Not Waste! |
