But what of the roller-skating rat in the tutu?

Well, when I was nine years-old my Grandmother and Mother decided that I should be more like other little girls. That Christmas they bombarded me with a Cindy doll (the British version of Barbie) and all these outfits for her. I hated it, I wanted roller-skates!

But as they say, every cloud has its silver-lining, and I was soon to discover that a lot of the clothes fitted my pet rat, Ratface Meldoon, much to my grandmother's horror.

Jealousy cackles, egging on the crab:

Petty Meanness. Petty in every way but his timing, just when you think it cannot get any worse, it does; Petty Meanness is there. Ready to twist the knife and rub salt in to the wound, or maybe just stick a lance in your eye, or simple say: "I told you so".

Greed, the cat, has no difficulty taking advantage of the situation, as she laps up a cocktail of fresh blood and pomegranate juice.

Shallowness, spares a single tear for his lover, but there again, there is that thorn pricking his lower lip; indeed, he cries only for himself.

Bribery's warped and desperate hand extends, offering up the gold and ruby brooch a pedophile tried lure me with when I was 9 years old, in exchange for my secretary. So much for that Love.

Secrets, appropriately placed under the rank armpit of the demon Murder, hold its crooked finger up to its hushing lips.....ssshhs!

Gossip, the Raven, below the mocking finger of Jealousy, listens to the cardinal, Lies, as the plate holder Passive Aggression lends Lies his ear.

Passive Aggression is just doing his job, of course. Standing silently and unashamed, smothered in the cast-off spoils of his master's victims and he willingly indulges Lies, much to Gossip's delight.


Lies, obviously, also represents the Catholic church. An organization highly venerated to this day, that has gotten away with genocide. Approximately 90% of its scores of thousands of victim being female; first tortured and then murdered in one of the cruelest ways imaginable, and not even an apology. God is Love?

Betrayal lurks in the darkness, hiding beneath the sacrificial plate. It is said that Betrayal is the cruelest act of love of all.......which bring us too:

Murder and Rape. The Demon Murder and his handy-man, the snake Rape, hold forth my Severed Head. We all know the statics. The most common murder is femocide, and most rapists? Partners and ex-partners, fathers and brothers, uncles and co-workers, friends and clergy. All that Love.

Severed Head, the late victim, that being myself; let it be noted that I put up a bloody good fight.

Being lowered onto spikes rising from a pentagon, some of the Hebrew inscriptions, the ancient characters that represent the five elements of the Tarot can be seen. With the Apple of Innocence thrust forcefully into my mouth, the barcode, (courtesy of Shop-Rite) our new imperial language, sits in the centre of the canvas.

‚ÄčLove, furthered cheapened into a commodity, is being scanned, but by whom? Could it be you?

On the 2nd of February 1988, at the Old Bailey court house in London, I sat in the public gallery and listened to a Judge sentence my ex-boyfriend to six months for attempted rape; a plead bargain on two accounts of rape, one attempted rape, and an assault upon my person. In his summery the Judge said that he was sorry to have to sentence him, as he appreciated that he had acted In the Name of Love.

The Things Done In the Name of Love


oil and gold on canvas 27"x 27"