He’s a tedious, smug, sanctimonious little twerp called Sebastian or Charles, or something like that. He grew up in a detached house, and went to a private school, but quickly realised that that wasn’t cool, and began to rebel. He went to Warwick or Durham, but dropped out to study art (which seemed a cool and rebellious thing to do). He also embraced left-wing politics. He hates Britain and is ashamed of its past (even though his great grandfather was an officer who bravely led his men off the beaches at D-Day).
That’s what I imagine, anyway. I imagine a sarky, huffy, sulky, sneering, tutting, humourless, rude, sanctimonious twerp, with no grasp of what real life is like for real people, or the real consequences of his left-wing beliefs. The more angry he gets (or claims to be), the happier he feels. He loves being outraged about food banks and the migrant crisis and that sort of thing. To him, every single migrant is a genuine refugee, everyone on disability benefits is genuinely ill. Above all, he hates NIMBYs (who are also uncool).
As for his ‘art’, it’s laughable. True art is deep, profound, unsettling, ground-breaking. It challenges us to re-think. It also presents multiple points of view, never allowing us the comfort of a simple answer. Banksy’s ‘art’ has all the intelligence and subtlety of a Disney cartoon. Everything is reduced to simplistic black and white.
Mawkish, mindless drivel.