You know the drill. “Beep” chips, “Beep” kitty crunchies, “Beep” ‘please place the item in the basket’…..and so forth. Boredom guides you along the Tesco trail to the top of the moving conveyor. The trolley wheels lock. But everyone tries to push it. Don’t they?
“Please remember to push the trolley off he end of the conveyor” says the ostensibly nice robot lady-voice. A million times a day. 24/7, apparently. I’ve never been to Tesco at 3.30am, so I’ll just have to believe it. Like I believe in Brigadoon.
I had brought my own bag. So I was chuckling to myself in that smug, shabby way that own-baggers do. Safe in the knowledge that the green Club card points are going to be spent on petrol, or shares in a Chinese power station. I crossed the car park, weaving through the full disabled spaces to the empty ones behind when I saw it. “Banksy”!! Deffo! I surreptitiously sidled my squeaking, ill-steering trolley to have a look.
Now I’ve read about all sorts who find Banksy’s. London, New York, in fact even my home town in Dundee had a find. Though it wasn’t as it happened. My sighting, however, looked like the real deal.
The image above is a real Banksy. Verified, certificated, and waiting to be chiselled out of the wall and off to a New York auction house. MY Banksy seemed WAY better.
The image looked earthy, experimental, and unfinished in a Schubert’s 8th sort of way. Already I was planning how to get it, off the wall and home. Then away to that auction house in New York. One can see the nascent, tentative strokes forming a skeletal shopping trolley. The acid-rain of a changed climate corroding it from above. A statement of Big Business and it’s come-uppance through environmental neglect. And it’s in monochrome: even more saleable!
“HEY YOU!” shouted some large voiced security man. “What are you taking photos of, in Tesco property?”
I quickly avoided eye contact, parked the trolley and took large steps to the exit.
“I’ve already chased two school kids away from there today. Bloody wee vandals”, he continued.
Little does he know, I thought. Hoisting the ‘Bag for life’ onto my shoulder.