Two pigeons in Trafalgar Square watch the antics of a One And Other participant.
Bill: He’s got a tent.
Ben: What the hell is that?
Bill: [Bobbing up and down with excitement] It’s a blow-up doll! It is! It is a blow-up doll! Christ almighty, what is he playing at?
Ben: [Pause. More activity on the plinth] Dinosaur.
Bill: It’s not a dinosaur, it’s a blimmin’ crocodile.
Ben: He is flinging an inflatable dinosaur off the plinth. That is not a crocodile.
Bill: Chicken looks scared.
Ben: Chicken looks scared because it's up on that plinth with a mad man who is chucking inflatable sex dolls and crocodiles into Trafalgar Square.
Bill: [Pause. Some activity on the plinth] Oh. My. God. He is, isn’t he. Isn’t he? Completely. Completely naked. Blimey
Ben: [Shouting] And he’s left her! There he goes! What a bastard! He’s left her! He’s climbed down and run off in the nip!
[In the distance, from the chicken] Noooooo! Come back! Don’t leave me! Oh, god! Why do they always leave me? Why? Oh, god, why?
Bill: [Muttering] Hen-pecked, that’s why.
Ben: Glenda says she’s seen more nudes out here since the plinth project started than she did that time she flew into the National Gallery.
Bill: I’ve seen more art out here than in that gallery.
Ben: But is it art?
Bill: Michael still has £50.00 going on a bet that he can crap on one of them. He doesn’t think it’s art.
Ben: Not sure about that, Michael crapped on every Antony Gormley statue around the Hayward Gallery and those were ‘art.’
Bill: They’ve got her down. Look at those feathers beautiful.
Ben: But she’s no good for anyone now. Ruined. Crying really toughens the meat.
[In the distance, from the chicken receding into the distance on the JCB] He said he’d make me famous he said I would be on TV he said he loved me
Bill: That callous, naked bastard.
Image of netting around the plinth by author.
