Art Ruined My Career in Crime

On the eve of drawing the old-age pension )provided I can become sufficiently unsuccessful) I am more concerned with myself painting, writing or creating a decent chook house than in bothering with the art and culture of other people or peoples.

The world is a mess. The status quo has got to go. Rape, smog, pollution, sex, divorce and communism must be extended (or is it curbed?). Outer space must be thoroughly dusted, the moon made into a high-rise suburb. I can do nothing towards jazzing these important things along so I escape into the practice of the Arts as much as a strict Baptist escapes into his font or a doting mother escapes into her pill.