This is something a little different. I’ve had an obsession with Banksy for a while now. Recently a new biography was released. The author claims to know Banksy’s true identity but chose not to reveal it. I’m glad. Here I say why.
It was the rats I first noticed.
I moved to London in 2006 and right from the start, on the morning walk from my east end flat to work in the city, I began to notice half a dozen spray painted rats hidden in various little nooks and crannies along the way. Each rat was different and most held signs of some sort, or sometimes an umbrella. The last one on my journey was directly outside my office building, a belligerent little fellow holding a placard saying ‘London doesn’t work.’
I’m no fan of graffiti. Tagging disgusts me and I can’t stand the colourful American-style hip hop graffiti that apparently is edgy and cool but all looks the same to me. But I loved the rats and would greet each one cheerfully, arriving at the Job That Ate My Soul with a smile that lasted all the way through my first coffee. At that workplace, a smile was a rare thing indeed.