Pointless Public Art

Some cunt has been putting plastic unicorns, the size of an actual horse, around Bristol, each individually decorated.

I have tried to find out the point of these , seemingly they have been sponsored by certain charities and you are supposed to go round the city having your photo taken in front of each one. I cannot imagine a world where that would pass for entertainment, but I have seen stupid cunts capering about in front of them, usually obvious tourists.

They make the place look an even bigger nuthouse than it already did. I can’t remember being asked if I want this crap all over the city. Some cunt is knitting woolly hats for postboxes as well, as if the fucking things might get hypothermia in the winter. I long for the days when people used to suffer in silence. Also, if you want to give to charity, why not just do that privately, instead of participating in some peculiar public nonsense.

Visit Bristol

Nominated by Mary Hinge.

75 thoughts on “Pointless Public Art

  1. Modern art is total wank. Created by pretentious cunts and loved by even bigger pretentious cunts. It’s void of any life. Amazes me how some fucking box wine drinking manbun twat can stand amazed for hours at a couple of plain red squares on a wall or some other shit that looks like it was painted by a pissed fish & over analyse it, calling it a masterpiece that reflects life’s pain and rage. No….it’s just a pile of self absorbed cunt. Get a ticket to fuck.

  2. I rather like the Beano statues in the middle of Dundee. Solid bronze and relevant – the Beano publishers are DC Thompson, a Dundee firm. There’s also a rather fine bronze dragon.


    The fad for pissing money on garishly-painted plastic animals may have died down, I hope. I see one of Norwich’s giant fibreglass hares has turned up in a local garden. Better than gnomes, anyway. But the photo at the top of the nom indicates a new threat. This is plainly the product of an AI fractal engine, and was probably produced at colossal cost on a CNC machine of some kind. Horrible. O tempora! O mores!

    Note to councils: Fill the fucking potholes. Collect the fucking rubbish. Supervise your fucking bent councillors (with a sharp axe) And scrap the fucking cycle lanes. You’ve got plenty to do already.

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