A colleague recently returned from a press trip to Hamburg, where his tour guide left a trail of small creatures made with Hama beads. “Street art,” he informed my colleague, placing various pocket-sized rabbits, cats and birds in public places. My colleague was dubious but I rather liked the idea. I once saw a comedian advocating a whole new pointless way of living: “see if you can get oranges to rhyme with sausages,” he cajoled, rousing the audience by asking them to chant lines ending with both words and the encouraging “If you try hard enough, you might find sausages and oranges do rhyme.”
They never did. But we had fun trying.
The same comic said he often left eggs in people’s gardens, as talking points.
“Imagine Florence and Alfred at number 73 haven’t actually spoken to each other for years. Then, Flo draws the curtains one morning and tells Fred to get out of bed and look at this.”
He mimed Fred going to his wife, who he no longer had anything left to say to.
“What is it?”
Suddenly they are chatting away over breakfast. “How did it get there? Who left it? Why? Is it art?”
Illustration by Joda