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the dolly

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Archie had an anarchist parasite. All day long he chanted 'La propriété, c'est le vol!' and 'the passion for destruction is a creative passion' He had a Pierre-Joseph Proudhon tattoo across his chest and was always trying to convince Archie that he should purchase *that* cookbook and wreak revenge upon the scum that rises to the surface. He niggled and moaned, quoted and spouted, he argued and he swore... he eventually drove Archie quite insane. Archie decided to become a Conservative politician, but was rejected on the basis that his parasite couldn't stop smashing the windows of the Conservative club every time they went in to take part in a meeting. His heart full of sorrow, for Archie dearly felt he had missed his calling, Archie retreated into his house, he kept ten cats and was visited only by his closest family. He took to writing long expansive letters to the Daily Mail. Unbeknown to him, as he slept, the parasite would take these letters form his jacket pocket and scrawl obscenities all over it before resealing and replacing it ready for posting on tomorrows early post. Archie's parasite decided that he could not suffer Archie live, he was a traitor to his class. He was a Blackleg Miner. Un traidor de la clase. Their birthday was coming up and the parasite decided upon a terrible, abominable, dastardly plan... The day of their birthday arrived and Archie and the parasite sat down by themselves to a special birthday treat of cake and fizzy drinks. The parasite gulped air as he swallowed his cake, he sucked coke through a straw, he swallowed the air from the balloons at their lonely birthday party... his belly swelled and stretched, he was at bursting point... that evening as they prepared for bed, he shoved the George Bush doll Archie had got for his birthday firmly into his mouth. Archie tried to remove it, but the parasite would not let go. The parasite squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, eventually his parasitic arse, deep in Archie's body let loose it's first and final fart. A release of gas that crept like a mad bomber wot bombs at midnight, like a smackhead down a street full of parked cars, like Jesus coming down the stairs, it crept through Archies motorway of veins and arteries, the assassin bubble paused briefly on the outskirts of Archies heart, then struck it's final blow and Archie fell to the ground. Both Archie and Parasite were found six weeks later. The parasite had been almost completely eaten by the cats, except for his teeth, which were still clamped down on George Bush's leg.

This photo has been digitally retouched.

well, I don't really have a parasitic twin...

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amieha said...

To be honest its an intresting photo but i think you dont need the enhanced 'dolly' it would be more objective to the viewer if it was just one person then they could read the expression themselves and make up their own mind. But it is very catching and immediately draws the viewer in because of its dark nature.

Posted on 14/01/2008 12:23

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ososment said...

hello old bean, this is part of a series about parasitic twin based pokes at life and psychology, also it was an attempt at a more illustrational version of photography moving away from my usual stuff which tends to be as 'out of the box', without putting it through the old shit shiner, as possible cheers for commenting ;)

Posted on 14/01/2008 15:24

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