THE WALL
XXXX
XXX
XXX
THE GREAT BRITISH
SPRAYCATION
It’s the summer of 2021, and the good citizens of the UK are released from their second COVID lockdown. Like the rest of the population, Banksy holidays on the beaches of The UK.
He gets in his camper van, drives east and gets busy, dropping ten pieces around the East Anglian coast. Social commentary disguised as seaside fun. Or maybe the other way around.
And he kindly makes a film, verifying he’s the artist, entitled - The Great British Spraycation.
The world wakes up and descends on Great Yarmouth and the surrounding towns. Journalists, pundits, opportunists.
The Banksy is encased in a frame, pieces get vandalised, the art critics dissect and prognosticate over the meaning.
Then, predictably, the brick-cutter-wielding art establishment descend. Pieces are cut from walls. Millions swap hands.
Hype. Destruction. Greed. The Spraycation becomes a spreadsheet.
Same Old Story.
ONLY ONE PIECE
ESCAPES UNSCATHED.
xxxxxxxxx
The Protocol of The Daves
Meanwhile in a pub in East London, an improbable number of Daves, meet over pints around table 43.
One of them owns the house. All of them have an opinion.
What to do with The Banksy? What to do with The House?
The conversation circles, wobbles, lands. They all agree:
