Yesterday I was kidnapped. It didn’t bother me much. I like the feel of rope on skin. I like the passionate thrust of kidnappers, hurling me into vans, threatening to slice my ears off. It’s a good wheeze. You don’t get that sort of passion in the art world. No. People are too detached these days. Modern irony and all that. So I was kidnapped. My kidnapper took me to a warehouse and listed the ways he was going to cut me up. “I’ll slice out your tongue wiv’ a cutlass,” he said. “I’ll lob off yer ears wiv’ a hatchet,” he said. “I’ll take out yer eyes wiv’ a katana,” he said. He was very knowledgeable about knives. We spoke about his time in the kitchen dept of Asda. It was working there that drove him to madness in the first place. We grew close and pretty soon we were making huffing great love on the floor. He promised not to kill me if I played him “If I Were You, I’d Be Through With Me” by The Divine Comedy, from the LP A Short Album About Love. I kept my promise.