The Apotheosis of the Lingerie Model

Dear, oh dear. Words do fail us. And aren't we in a fine old mess when a pretty bimbo does a Diana Lite on the nation. The Sindo all agog - some breathless fat boy journalist regales us with details of the frequency of her fucking. And Berties's aide-de-camp represents us at the plasma screen bedecked funeral where the family seemed more intent on performing than mourning.

The word meretricious springs unbidden to mind. What a country we are when the agenda for the life we should aspire to is set by such a collection of self-absorbed, vapid fuckwits. And shouldn't we start a campaign to liberate Gene Kerrigan.

Fallon's Folly

There is no doubt that the race-fixing charges against Kieran Fallon were spurious in the extreme. The BHA were exposed as both stupid and malicious and their Australian wide-boy witness made a complete farce out of their case with his admission that he was not familiar with British racing. The obscene flouting of natural justice whereby Fallon was forbidden to ride pending the trial gave him a perfect platform from which to capture public sympathy and receive compensation for his troubles.

And what does he do – persist with his coke consumption (apparently, pending the B sample confirmation) so that having at last got off the hook he is firmly impaled on it again. Surely Coolmore will cry enough now. If he gets the usual penalty he won’t be able to ride again until 2010. This is ingratitude write large on Fallon’s part after the loyalty and genorosity displayed by Coolmore.

He has now lost the sympathy of all reasonable men. Ain’t that a shame.

William Crozier at the Taylor Gallery

Nice man, great swathes of bright alluring colour but there's something I just can't warm to about Crozier's work. Maybe it's the faux naive drawing - especially of trees and bushes - that puts me off. There was a poor enough turn out in the Taylor. Maybe getting into town on a Thursday evening is just getting too difficult with the current traffic levels. I think all openings should be on a Sunday afternoon. They were hawking a book at the show so they had the poor man stuck in a corner signing all evening rather than up and about glad handling the punters.

There was a bunch of barristers there (Eoin McGonigal, Jim O'Driscoll, John O'Donnell etc.) and a few artists (Robert Ballagh, Stephen Lawler, Cecily Brennan etc.) but in general it was quiet. And where was Campbell Bruce? His ubiquitous biddy was there (seated) but he was nowhere to be found. Crozier is a West Cork neighbour of his so he must have been unwell.