Presumably Tracey Emin was too busy talking to the taxman about poetry (and entirely legal, Tory-sponsored tax avoidance loopholes) to attend such a humble event, with Damien Hirst no doubt locked in negotiations with one of Charles Taylor's henchmen regarding his next shipment of Liberia's finest commodity. However, the ever reliable, down to earth family man and shit hot post-ironic artiste Gavin Turk put in an appearance, spinning vinyl on the decks with what looked like one of his sons but more likely some Goldsmiths' Masters graduate art-world intern. I was hoping for a sighting of Sarah Lucas, but she must have been burrowed away in glorious hermitage, stuffing scrunched up copies of hoarded News of The Worlds into pairs of nude hosiery from Oxfam.
So there you have it...another post ostensibly about something, but in reality utterly superficial and pointless. Did someone mention YBAs?