During the Edinburgh Fringe Festival this yer Fierce had a page feature in the inaugural Forest Fringe Zine. Dirty Cash!!! was a competition we ran as part of the Forest Fringe programme where we invited the public to send in the the filthiest suggestions of how to spend £250 – an expansion of the idea that there is no such thing as clean money.
The entries ranged from pure sleaze and sexual deviancy to more political statements on corruption.
The top three were:
1) Jasmine Loveys (below) – winner
2) Andrzej Lukowski – ‘Autopeodophilia’ – a study on the ethics of child pornography – what happens if you masturbate over a picture of yourself as a child?
3) Lucy Ellinson – ‘Anti-filth’ – finding the filthiest, grimiest unperpasses and spaces in a city and writing ‘reverse graffittti’ statements about the ConDem coalition government in bleach and industrial cleaning products.
So the winner is…
So. . . here is the filthy way that I would spend 250 big ones:
Jasmine’s dirty day. . .
I would begin with a bit of light cosmetic surgery and have a hair transplant on my face. Specifically, I would have hair transplanted just above the mouth to form a moustache. I would like it to be quite a bushy one but money doesn’t go far. I visit a back- street transplantists and pay £200 for a thin moustache.
Armed with new facial hair, it’s time for a little jog and the tache reveal. Having purchased a pair of tiny, shiny red shorts from a charity shop for the bargain price of £2.50, I take all my clothes off, apart from the shorts, and run.
Very sweaty from the jogathon, I pop in to the local co-op for a tin of UHT squirty cream. Pay £2 to the cashier and leave.
Having left the co-op, I stop to slather my sweaty torso in cream, paying particular attention to the nipples. I am thinking how much the girls will love this.
It’s never to early for a titty bar so I head to ‘wild catz’ for a little of the action. I order a reef and watch the girls on the pole, seductively fingering the cream from my chest into my mouth.
Somehow hours have passed and I’m still at the titty bar. By now the cream has really festered and something is smelling pretty funky. I head home.
I find some cold chips in the kitchen from the night before. I eat them before climbing into my new leopard print sheets (£12 from debenhams).
What a marvelous day!