Just Julian here wishing you all the best this merry yuletide. I thought, like, how retro would it be to write a round robin so that you, my adoring public can read all about little me over mince pies and sherry next to a roaring log, or whatever it is you do at Christmas. We cant all spend Christmas with Tracy Emin after all.
I am writing this, because even I don’t expect you to read every one of my many tweets, I do write rather a lot, and they are rather varied ( some people have even commented that they seem like several people have written them, how crazy!). I thought, therefore, that I would condense both my tweets and the progress that my charity side project the Bakery (bless) have made this year. So merry crimbo y’all, peace out.
The year started very well. I moved into my new home in Hoxton. I had to kick a number of slightly unsightly homeless types, although I allowed one to stay because he happened to be wearing what was in that season. He now pops down to Nero to fetch my Macchiatos and I pay him loose change, so we now have a like, well retro master and slave relationship. OMG! I feel so Roman. Anyways peeps I moved in and I got this well in Dutch interior designer, Arsole Van Buren, to design it. He was so charming and his addition of a wendy house in the living room and all this ex Nazi memorabilia in the kitchen makes it all look so homely.
As you all probably know, I then started my media company in Soho called Newsagent. Im not going to lie, it has caused a certain level of confusion. I am a very liberal man but I will never be a vendor of ’10 Mayfair and a can of coke’. So now I have cleared up the confusion by renaming it the ‘Newsagent’. I was then watching this programme on TV called ‘Booze Britain’, and I saw that like, the working class and like, those who are maybe a bit on the interesting side don’t have a creative outlet. I mean, we all like to go out and get smashed on Bolly from time to time, but only for creative purposes. My best work always comes after a night out at the Curzon. Anyway, I thought that I could maybe fund a little outreach project that gave odd people a way of expressing themselves. I put out an advert in the Angling Times, and this chap called Alaric King replied. He was an ex Nazi or something and he looked like a real convict. He had a shaved head! And he looked like he used his arms for work! Anyway I went fishing with him to you know, get down to his level and I found he was a jolly nice chap although he had some odd political ideas to say the least. Anyway he professed a wish to join the project and he said he knew a couple of guys and maybe we should meet up in Canterbury or something. I mean, really, Canterbury, whos ever heard of it! I met up with these guys. One was called Dick Dadd and he had a ming dynasty moustache that was like well retro, and this guy called Dave Fryer who had like amazing glasses and ginger hair! Then there was this tall man from somewhere in Essex. To be frank I liked the look of him, if you know what I mean. Then there was this wild haired guy who liked prog rock and was a bit weird. I thought we could do without him but the others claimed that it kept him happy. I didn’t like them but, you know it was these unwashed types that I wanted to help. So I gave them £100, 000 and have let them get on with it. They are called the Bakery and they try their best.
Anyway back to the ‘Newsagent’. Around March time things were a bit slow and I was starting to get desperate. Eventually I met this guy called Cosmo. He put me in contact with the like, government and I had olives and espresso with this suited type. I made a pitch that was so daring ( excerpts from Angling Times sellotaped to slices of Genoa cake), that he gave me the job on the spot. The upshot of it was that I was commissioned by the Arts Council to make this piece of art for Gordon Brown. Unfortunately at that moment my old friend Lionel dropped in and said did I want to come out to his yacht for a month. I said yes and the rest was a whirlwind of deck parties, sexy fashionistas, ironic shuffleboard and Bolly. I arrived back a month later and shock, horror, I hadn’t done anything for the project. I couldn’t face the truth so I went out for another big one at the Curzon! Hungover on the Sunday I had to find something to give him so I dug out a piece I made at A – Level at Winchester Boys. It took the shape of a phallus and was made entirely out of rubbish. Above the phallus is a big sign saying ‘This is You!’. It is called ‘ The death of a bad leader and his terrible regime of awfulness’ and it got me an A. He took it and thanked me but I never heard anything more about it, I wonder if Gordon liked it.
Pulling into June I started thinking about getting a Twitter account but felt I couldn’t commit, because did I really want others knowing all about my whereabouts? YES, YES, YES! However, I had this little thing going on with a beautiful advertising exec. She was taking up all my time and I had like this crazy idea to make a retro romantic novel. I mean how difficult can it be, bish bash bosh. I called it Withering Slights and it was all about this wicked, wicked woman advertising exec who meets a gorgeous media baron in a bistro and they bond over feta and olives. Later on at the Curzon a dark stranger comes along and offers her his hand in marriage (how gauche!) and she accepts. The baron is like, the light side of her personality and the dark stranger is (duh!) the dark side. I gave this to Salman Rushdie and he said I might want to retake A – Level English because there is a book that is a little bit like it. He then laughed at me and called me a new media ponce! It took a lot of dark painting to rid myself of all the accumulated aggro. I got over it however and dumped my g – friend, who needs them anyway.
It was at this point that I decided to Twitter. My first post reads:
Organising a focaccia and olive oil tasting party, in my Hoxton flat with BF’s Zara and Xavier. Bring a bottle and a blackberry.
I did and it was wonderful. Thank you all so much for following me this year. The rest of the year many of you will already have a certain amount of information on via twitter. I will cover the main points. After a few crazy parties (yes Richard I did dance with her from the Ting Tings, did I sleep with her? I don’t kiss and tell) and a certain amount of Beaujolais and olive oils spilt on myself (thank you very much Xavier), as well as some terrible looks, (What was the dictator look all about?) I arrived at September. This is were I had my now infamous fight with Melvyn Bragg and Yentob. From my perspective this is were I fixed strongly upon my intention to become the undisputed king of the blogosphere. Those two old evil bastards will never ever have the chance to humiliate me like that again. Their time is over.
I also hooked a bloody great fish as far as my commission for SHOW US UR ARTS goes. How brilliant that was and to think I was originally only going to display at the Serpentine! What a first wave establishment. I eventually did display to great success. Like all great artists I sold nothing. I am going the Van Gogh route. There was as well, my short fling with Zara (the hussy). You will all be pleased to know that I recovered from the brief fracas outside the Curzon with Zaras husband. His wounded pride wont recover from my comments though ( he is outmoded, he still shops at Topshop).
As for the rest of the year, well, as I write this Ive got majorly into philosophy and so Im making a new piece of art called ‘The new Marx’. It revisions Marx as a modern man who, like, updates his Twitter account and has meaningless relationships that briefly illuminate his otherwise pointless existence. I’m so glad I’m not like that. Well, anyway cheesecakes I’ve no time to waste. Lady Ga Ga waits like a little disco fairy under my tree. Byeee!