THE BANKSY METHOD

Banksy is a well-known, provocative and controversial graffiti artist. His ironic art can sometimes be found on the dirty walls of an anonymous street, next to a PUB, on the side of a sexual health clinic or even on live animals.

His unique satirical approach is rather refreshing, amusing and depressing at the same time. Above all, I think he has a great sense of humour.

I'm guessing his official website may look something like this:

http://www.banksy.co.uk/

Mr. Banksy is sometimes described as an "Art Terrorist" (everyone's a terrorist nowadays...), because he sneakily hanged subverted versions of famous paintings on leading museums and prestigious galleries, without express permission from its directors (or his own parents).

He is actually famous for this modus operandi and a great inspiration for six-year-old children (and me) who also wish to see their House-With-Smiling-Sun-And-Family drawings on exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art.

He maintains some degree of anonymity to avoid arrest, because graffiti is illegal. Some believe his name's Robin Banks (a joke name for: "robbing banks") or, more seriously, Rob Banks from Bristol, UK. Yet, no one's really sure of his true identity (a bit like a superhero). Not even his parents who actually think, according to the man himself, that he's some sort of painter or decorator (or an accountant who just happens to own thousands of spray cans).

In 2005, he painted on the Israeli Wall which stands three times higher than the Berlin Wall and is, accordingly, three times more degrading for mankind (and also for the Israeli government).

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/4748063.stm

Well, soon after reading more about him, I found myself inclined to pull the same sort of stunt to slightly increase the popularity of this blog.

By the way, I wish to proudly announce that the readers sum now (amazingly) exceeds the rather depressing total of zero (Hurray…) and also to greet them all with much heartfelt love ("Hi Mom! Learn English, please..."); but are however still less than two, which is not that bad if put into the right perspective.

I hope to change this state of affairs in the next decade.

I've got plenty of time. I think…

My doctor has a different opinion and said to me that staying up all night, jumping meals, drinking and smoking like there's always another tomorrow was bad for me. All the other doctors I've visited seem to have attended the same boring medical school and I just can't find one that will let me sin against my self-preservation (without feeling kinda guilty about it, you know...).

After some meditation, I decided to take marketing guerrilla action into my own hands and chose a place where everybody had to go sooner or later. So I posted an advertising poster on the back of the local gravedigger without him noticing. It's harder than you might think at first as I had to play dead for some time until I got my chance.

It went pretty well up to the point when he had to lay off work and go home to his wife and kids. I ceased to immobilize him against a tombstone when I eventually realised that it's very hard to read anything when you're lying down under the ground.

Being dead, as I was later told, is an exceptionally time consuming occupation. There's no time to read anything longer than three small words.

Besides, the few undead who did read it said to me – and I quote: "you should perhaps pursue other interests such as erasing texts instead of writing them. It's a steady occupation and I heard there was an opening at the Paper Recycling Factory.".

It was a tempting idea and I knew it was the practical thing to do, therefore I didn't do it.

Banksy would be so proud of me for being anti-establishment and anti-capitalism. He more than once turned down a huge contract with Nike involving "mad money" (sic). How many of us could afford to do the same?

Apparently, he could. His works have been selling like hot cookies and have reached record values in auctions. His street and subversive artist image has been ironically appropriated by the rich and famous.

While one of these auctions was still going on, he sent a note to be read to all the auctioneers saying: "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE BUYING THIS SHIT YOU THICK CUNTS.".

But the buyers there just didn't get the anti-commercial message and the note itself was subsequently auctioned for sale! (The irony in this is plainly unbelievable…)

In fact, all the commercialisation of his art is driving him nuts and he's much irritated by this entire media circus around him:

http://www.martian.fm/banksy_manifesto.htm

Anyway, I pursued my second alternative (which was also coincidentally my plan B) and targeted the Police Station.

However, in an attempt to deviate my marketing work from Banksy's, and thus make my feat more original, I decided to ask my parents for permission (therefore avoiding the copyright lawsuits Mr Banksy's lawyers had promised me over the phone when I asked for some free advice).

Unfortunately, when I phrased the question to my parents, I inadvertently commutated "…Police Station" with "…in my room.".

It was an understandable mistake but as so often happens (for some unknown reason especially with me), I was too embarrassed to retract myself and nailed my publicity post behind the door to my old room.

By the way, I "obviously" no longer live with my parents and I think anyone over thirty who still does should be ashamed and hide it as a state secret. I suggest you tell people that your parents are the ones living with you instead (like I used to do when I was twelve).

I finally went to the Police and very subtly managed to glue the blog advertisement to the counter while I complained that my priceless gold watch had been stolen.

It was a good spot as I knew that two of the Law Enforcers were fabled to have some sense of humour (they laughed a lot while writing traffic tickets).

The next part of my deviously conceived plan was to rob everybody in the neighbourhood in order to increase the number of people going to the police and therefore reading my clandestine advertisement.

I'm now writing this from jail.

Apparently, the two policemen I referred to earlier had retired from active duty and my blog post advert ("The Police: those stupid lazy bastards who pretend to protect us") was taken as evidence. I think they're not giving it back to me.

My splendid Banksy-styled plan had a minor flaw: my name was on the damn thing. Those clever detectives were able to crack the case in less than four hours, setting a new standard in criminal investigation for the whole country.

I still think however that this Police Station idea really looked, sounded and tasted like a good one (even though I usually prefer ideas such as roast turkey and chocolate ice cream).

In my cell, I was comforted by the thought that this has happened in the past to Einstein and his brilliant plan to end World War II by helping to build a bomb so powerful that it would end not only that one, but also all future wars.

He was probably aiming for a Nuclear Holocaust of biblical proportions enough to utterly destroy our planet, thus ensuring ever lasting peace in the rest of the Universe.

It was a great concept, but it didn't quite work and the planet is more or less still in one piece with everybody pretty much alive (extreme Pacifists are outraged to this very day).

I can now see even more clearly why Mr. Banksy goes to great lengths to protect his identity.

It's the secret winning strategy against the Law.