answer machine

So a client phones the office this morning and asks for some advice about how best to fill in a three foot hole under his flat. We adminster advice. The phone goes down and we realise that he said he lived in the first floor flat. Odd.

Perhaps the three foot hole beneath him is the flat below. This gets us thinking about filling the inside of a flat with concrete, which reminds us (again) of Rachael Whiteread’s Turner/KLF prize winning cast of a Victorian house, which turns into a discussion about the latest development in the Saatchi inferno, which prompts us to share our memories of the 1997 Sensations exhibition at the Royal Academy, which leads us back to Whiteread’s casts of the underside of chairs, which helps us to wander around the pieces in our mind and think about how crap the Chapman brothers are, how good Richard Billingham is and how indifferent we are to Tracey Emin, until, finally, we agree unanimously, grinning like fools, that Ron Muek’s Dead Dad was the most breathtaking experience of the whole collection.

I hope we get a phone call like that tomorrow.

Mercifully, there is yet to be any report of Dead Dad’s cremation.

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