Me and Rusty Rockets (part 2)

http://www.ochigallery.com/baron-von-fancy/

This isn't really about Russy Wussy Randy Brandy at all. Of course not: it's all about me.

It's all about celebrity culture and its relationship to the self.

It's all about how democracy isn't so much 'one vote per head' as 'one vote per ten thousand pounds'.

It's all about the dramaturgy of personality. 

It's all about the corruption of fame.

It's all about sexual politics.

It's all about me. It's about what I don't know.

I don't really know Russell Brand: I know his persona. The human being, Russell Brand, is a very different entity than the Walking Winky (with a cheeky smile) who turned up on my television with a swirl of his notional cane and top hat.

I bet he does stints in his local Oxfam at the weekend and mans the phones at a domestic violence help-line. 

My deconstruction of his book, his activities, are as focussed on Brand's being in the same way that a technical analysis of the hologram in War of The Worlds  is a character study of Liam Neeson.