a man bearing a passing resemblance to guy garvey, lead singer of elbow, sits in a dark graveyard, reading extracts from various literary works attributed to katie price, AKA jordan, before becoming agitated and emotional about deleuze and guattari as an increasingly heavy rainstorm passes over. ask yourself: if he's reading this off a card, did the poor bastard holding it get an umbrella?
my voice sounds funny on this one. originally shown to a completely disinterested panel at some academic conference somewhere, sandwiched inbetween a paper on something i can't remember and some complete bullshit about hardy's attempts to write plays. sample questions: 'is she that one with the large breasts who gave birth on the internet?'. and i tried so hard to be loved.