Auntie Doris’s Great Works of Art: Bonus Edition – Jeff Koons: Made in Heaven, 1989

imageMy good friend, the Puppetmaster, Peter Allen, suggested that I should write a piece about this work by Jeff Koons. To be honest, I thought that Peter had a bit more about him than to entertain filth like this, but then when I thought about it, I realised that he’s a man, and they are all filthy so and sos when it boils down to it. Even Harry H. Corbett was caught with his hand up the skirt of a female panda called Sue, and apparently, that bloke who did Basil Brush was a well known frotteur, which is probably why he spent half his life under the ruddy table.

Any Road, Jeff Koons was as filthy as they come. He was a good enough looking bloke though, and after he he made a fortune out of making balloon models out of stainless steel, there were probably hundreds of women queuing up to get him up the aisle. So what did he do? He chose an actress out of those phonographic films. She wasn’t just any old actress who was used to taking her clothes off though, this one was Ilona Staller, otherwise known as Cicciolina. She had been an Italian Member of Parliament, and had gone on the television and offered to have carnal relations with Saddam Hussein in exchange for him releasing some hostages.

Funnily enough, Saddam Hussein never got back to her, if it had been Lloyd George or Bill Clinton, they would have probably taken up her offer, apart from the fact that Lloyd George was dead and Bill Clinton wasn’t President at the time. Apparently, when he was President, he did look at the possibility of taking some hostages and getting in touch with Ilona, but it all fell through when he got that copydex on that lasses skirt.

Any road, when Jeff Koons married her, he wanted the world to know that he had married a proper phonographic woman, so he did an exhibition called “Made in Heaven” with hundreds of photographs and paintings and other nick nacks, depicting him and her having it off in all sorts of positions. He even had some glass ornaments made of them working their way through that Indian sex book, the Carnal Suitor.

Of course, there was a bit of a hoo ha when people saw what he had done. They said it was filthy. Of course, what a man and a woman get up to in the privacy of their own homes is nobody’s business but their own, but plastering it all over an art gallery for all and sundry to be looking at is another matter entirely. Elderly people, young children and vicars might have accidentally wandered in and seen it and been corrupted for the rest of their living days.

Any road, Ilona left him after a year and went back to Italy, where she continued trying to achieve world peace through stunts like offering to have carnal relations with Osama Bin Laden if he would promise behave his ruddy self in future. Koons went back to being an almost normal artist, making his stainless steel balloon sculptures and other ornaments including a delightful figurine of two Yorkshire terriers, which could almost be my Hairy Mary and my Tuppence


Auntie Doris’s Twelve Days of Christmas. #8: Eight Maids a Milking.


8thI had been wanting the front room wallpapering for a while. I had persuaded my Raymond to buy some lovely paper. Eight rolls of lovely brown stuff with an orange and silver floral design. It was just after we got our Betamax video recorder. And the night that I was wanting him to get started on the job, his ruddy brother Bernard came around with a ruddy film to watch with him. And do you know what the film on it was called? Only “Eight Maids a Milking” that’s all! Course, the soft beggars didn’t realise I had spotted that they had it, and they waited ’till I was out of they way before they watched it. I always used to go round to our Pearl’s on a Wednesday night, once we had made amends over the tea caddy business. We used to choose what we would buy out of the Kay’s catalogue, and I used to collect the money for what she had bought before, then we used to do spot the ball together, and talk over the old times. Anyway, when I got back that night my Raymond and his Bernard seemed a bit subdued. There was no wallpapering done and they had the sort of looks on their faces that men have when they have been up to no good. So the next day, when I was in on my own, I got the tape out from where they had hidden it (under the ottoman) and put it in the machine. Ruddy Nora! I have never seen such a load of tripe in my life. There was this farmer who wanted to employ some milkmaids to work in his dairy, but when they came for the interview, he didn’t have any ruddy cows. So him and his three sons got down on all fours, stark naked, and told the poor lasses to demonstrate their milking ability on them. I would have chucked a bucket of water over the filthy sods, but that’s not what happened in the film. I wasn’t having that sort of muck in MY house. I put Sellotape over the bit that made it record again and taped Afternoon Plus and the Galloping Gourmet over their silly ruddy film. After that, I half filled a bucket with wallpaper paste, and I presented it to Raymond when he got in. “There” I said. “I’ve been busy while you’ve been out.” You should have seen his face! “You had better get that front room wallpapered quicksticks,” I said “and if you need any help, you can ask your ruddy Bernard You seem pretty chummy with him these days. And if you run out of ruddy paste, I’m sure that the pair of you can make some more. Anyway, I got the front room papered, and I never saw another tape like that in the house. So they had either learned their lesson or found a better hiding place. Eight maids a milking? No thank you! It would be a different matter if my true love had sent me a few cows instead of all those birds, but what the ruddy hell would I want milkmaids for? (Uncle Raymond felt a little queasy after reading the above story, he declared himself “not in the mood” for adding a Christmas Cracker Cackle of the Day, and went for a lie down.)