Picture Carnaby Street yesterday - an unseasonably cold June day, pissing with rain. Standing on a corner is a man dressed as the devil, replete with black stubby horns, a tail and red face and tights. He has a stand with painted flames and the legend "Devil Brollies". He shouts "free umbrellas" at soggy passers by. A few incautiously take them, and of course walk off and open them up to shelter from the rain. The joke is that each one has a word written in large white letters on the black canopy, obvious only if you are behind the owner who is ignorant of it. The first says ANUS, the next TWAT, the third I see is ARSE. Of course - there's the bloke with the video capturing all this, presumably for TV. It occurred to me that no-one stops to look at a man with a large video camera these days. We're all at it, making content. Years ago, they'd have had to hide the cameraman in a van. Now he's just part of the street furniture because the whole world is a theatre of content.
Damn, I wish I'd been quicker with the camera phone.
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