Act 1. So here's the trick. First, become a designer. Then have a soirée at the visually spectacular
and internationally, ahem, sensitive British Museum so you can absorb and expel a bit of gravitas in your rather flippant duck egg blue suit that looks just like this (just add pants):
that also wonderfully set off your white KT26 clones.
Then describe to your audience how clever you are in a conversational style that Parkinson did so well (but you don't quite master yourself), then get busy with flashing up a few pictures of fantastic furniture, jars and bicycles, keep talking about yourself, then have a free couple of hundred gallons of booze on hand and Bob's-your-uncle, the audience doesn't care if you design the most ostentatious natural resource obliterating things on the planet or for that matter, orbiting it. It's all right, they look good.
Actually they look fantastic.
The scene was set by no less than an invitation from the Australian High Commissioner (someone I am yet to meet) to yours truly. Here's the proof:
to witness the wisdom being spouted by none other than Lord of the A380 economy class seat, god of the first class club lounge and co-covenor of the facebook group 'likes metal, smooth sufaces and shiny stuff' - designer Marc Newson.
Don't get me wrong. His furniture is beautifully fantastic. It's just that I was left with the distinct impression that he'd design a fantastically beautiful execution chair, gas chamber (There. I said it.) or even a plain old Hummer, or perhaps torture implements like this:
or similar without a moments consideration. Of course Climate Change didn't get a mention. Nor did using less, even a little bit less. On occasion. Or just say once or twice.
Suppose I should have expected to be disappointed though, bells should have rung when Rio Tinto was thanked at the beginning for paying for the gallons of booze. Cheers to that.
Act 2 continues the booze theme. Lets move on to Hard Liquor!
So in preparation for my night with Marc I had to tool about Bloomsbury learning to be marvellous, witty and a touch clever. So of course I went to the Museum and scouted the joint and was pleased to have a Julie Bishop style stare-off against Napoleon's death mask:
Then gawked at some ancient but art deco looking teapots (everyone likes a good teapot right?)
and some pottery that looked like it cost $12.39 at Bunnings but were actually made by the Romans and are absolutely priceless.
How's that for a modern day bargain?
But the real action hotted up because I found a shop that sells, and only sells hard liquor:
So I did my bit for the UK economy by geting a bottle of this:
Sold! for a bargain price, after pretending for added cultural integrity purposes that the sales assistant was Scottish but who I believe was from Dublin. Close enough right?
Act 3 is short. It involves dangerous antiques that I spotted 'tooling about' in antique row: AKA Church Street. Anyway after browsing along for an hour or so I saw this:
No its not an elaborate vegetable peeler.
It is a jolly good, original World War 1 era best-of-British Vickers machine gun with chrome plaiting for added style. It would look great in your office, school or hallway right? ... Or for dealing with those uppity Colonies. Or maybe just as an added extra for the A380.
