Hogarth...

It's been a weekend of social satire at From Beer To Paternity Towers.

On Saturday myself, the Boy and the Missus went to see the excellent stand-up Phil Nichol at Soho Theatre, whose show The Naked Racist is thoroughly entertaining. For me anything that combines lunatic and energetic musings on arguments with girlfriends, historical pacifism and the Iraq War, with music and displays of nudity is always worth a look.

On Sunday myself and the Missus went to see the Hogarth exhibition at Tate Britain.

I've always liked Hogarth as I love his talent for brilliant social satire and he's always my first line of defence to art-lovers who claim that comics are not 'proper' art:
Sexy lady art critic: ‘Comics are not proper art!’
Me: ‘Well I think fans of William Hogarth and his sequencial works such as the Rake’s Progress or the Harlot’s Progress would dispute that…’
Sexy lady art critic: ‘Bugger! You’re so right! Make love to me like an animal and teach me never to question your wisdom again…’

But I also like Hogarth because he’s one of those artists where you can almost taste the smell of whatever they are depicting.

STOP PRESS
On an unconnected theme the Boy now has his own blog. It’s address was supposed to be:
www.we’reoutoftime.blogspot.com.
This is a reference to 24 but you can’t use apostrophes in blog titles so it reads:
www.wereoutoftime.blogspot.com instead.