I’m a confused man. The world is mine, clearly, so I pee on everything. While outside our kennel, I am praised for my work, but inside the same action is judged harshly. But why? If I can sit on the sofa, surely I can pee on it?
I am not only confused, I also feel under-appreciated. I piss art. People around where I live go on street-art tours. That’s mostly my work. And you should see me: the way I lift my leg makes Nureyev look like a Morris dancer. So what’s with the yelling when I pee indoors?
Barksy, Schnoodle, Shoreditch
Hi Barsky (if that’s your real name),
as a bitch let me tell you: you’re not impressing anyone with your territorialism. Give it up – this is not the 1950s. Embrace the diversity of smells, and accept that all couches are mine.
If you insist on spraying your art indoors, I have one word for you: neutering. So, my advice is to keep your leg down indoors.