Internet, I really need your help. Indeed, I'm throwing myself on your mercy. I have been trying to make sense of this graffito in our street for the last two years with no success and it's making my head throb. This week alone, in my graffiti distracted state I have:
- hit myself in the face with a three kilo medicine ball (in public, because otherwise it would be no fun would it. If I hit myself in the face with a large ball and noone sees, am I still a fuckwit? Hmm.)
- realised I had left the violet shoes behind in a cafe (they are cursed! Damn you violet shoes! The shoes of doom!)and returned to get them, only to realise that, ah yes, I had also left my handbag behind but not noticed because SHOES! Lost again! Cannot be allowed to happen!
- realised that the lyric I had been blithely singing along with in a not at all ridiculously ' down with the kids' fashion as "wrap yourself in bleeding mattress*" was in fact nothing of the kind. Madras. Not mattress. Yup. This almost rivals the Space Cadette's famous:
"Somewhere over the rainbow
Wear your pie"
- Got into the car this afternoon and headed off for another doom-filled afternoon in an underground medieval-themed Flemish soft play area (could any series of words be less appealing?) holding a carving knife.
Please. It's getting beyond a joke. Help me deconstruct the graffiti. Come, let us stroke our beards together and examine the text and what it signifies.
WHY is the cat saying it likes rusty spoons? Is it a drug reference? Does it have a club paw or is it playing with a ball? Is it indeed a cat? Is it significant that the speech bubble comes from the paw and not the head? Is it just too Belgian for me to comprehend? Is there any other place in the world where foreign language graffiti is so fricking surreal? I mean, "fuck you motherfucker" I could understand, but "I like rusty spoons"? I used to quite like "Corriere della Sera paid [?? illegible]'s legal bills" on the railway bridge just north of Farringdon station; it sounded a bit Carrofiglio and intriguing. But this is just beyond me.
So please, anyone? Does it mean anything or should I just take a fistful of lithium and have a lie down?
The shoes contemplate their next escape attempt:
L: Shall we take the legs with us next time?
R: Mà, no! Dio mio! With that ridiculously streaky fake tan?
L: Mà Certo. And the nails! Horribile!
*Vampire Weekend. So ridiculously good. Thank you Space Cadette!