a response to Tracy Emin’s response to the public response to the Brit Art blaze, May, 2004

Dear sniggerers,

No, but yeah, because what happened was that it’s just not fair and it’s not funny and it’s not polite and it’s bad manners, see. Because, no, but yeah, but how would you feel if nobody didn’t want to see your pants just cos they was a bit mucky? Shutup! Because I didn’t know nothing about it, because real people don’t know nothing about culture, see? No, but yeah. Because. Mr Saatchi’s so upset he's going to buy a fish market and leave all the fish in it until people can tell that it’s art. Don't look at me! No, but yeah. If it was Kylie’s bum that caught fire no-one would never be sniggering would they, yeah. And anyway, the majority of the British public have no regard or no respect to what me and my peers do, or something or nothing, to the point that they laugh at a disaster like a fire, see. And that’s well out of order. We really don’t need to laugh at the culture in our own country, ’cos there are plenty of foreigners who laugh at it for us, because I never done it, and that’s true, and if you don’t believe me, ask Nigella. But if she gives you sweets don’t eat them, cos she’s dirty. And me tent was in it, with everyone what I done and no, but yeah, because, shutup! Damien wanted to put his shark what he done in my tent but I never done nothing or nothing, so I never, ’cos I wasn’t even there then, and anyway J.K. Rowling totally had a nappie. See? I wouldn’t never laugh if it was your tent what got burned, would I? No, but yeah. It’s not like I’m saying what you have to understand it, what I’m saying is like don’t laugh when it all burns down, like, see? Shutup! Anyway, I was in Margate with my mum, because, so I never, and don't listen to her because she’s got one tit bigger than the other. I had the inclination and inspiration 10 years ago to make that, see? Because I don’t have that inspiration and inclination now, yeah, but no. My work is very personal, shutup! which people know, so I can’t create that emotion again, no, but yeah — it’s impossible. I couldn’t not never feel the inspiration to write all them names again because, and have them sewn on, so that’s forty thousand quid down the drain, but no, but yeah. Don’t laugh! It’s hard enough sleeping with over a hundred people without having to remember their names, and they shouldn’t have slept with me if they didn’t want their wives and everyone to know about it should they? Because I never ’cos Damien’s taken all the pills from the chemist’s shop again, see? And Billy’s really Childish. Don't be giving me evils!

Tracy Pollard, Darkly Noon, Margate, June 2004