Here’s a thing that just happened. From the first paragraph of The Guardian’s profile of Damien Hirst, published today:
During the period he refers to as his “glory years”, Damien Hirst had a favourite gag. He would pull his foreskin through a hole in his pocket, then exclaim in mock alarm: “What’s that?” “People would go, ‘You’ve got some chewing gum on your trousers.’ They would touch it and go, ‘What the fuck?’” he said, smirking.
What the fuck, indeed. Regarding Damien Hirst’s Foreskin, my colleague tells me over Gchat: “This is an old camp gag, right? I mean, I never did this, but I have heard of that gag.” I never went to camp, so let us know in the comments.
Well, reader, here we are, both of us now fully aware of Damien Hirst’s Foreskin and the kooky things he used to do (does?) with it. June 30, 2015, 10:50 a.m.: The day we entered into this glorious epoch of Post-Knowing-About-Damien Hirst’s Foreskin. It’s not even noon, and I already know about Damien Hirst’s Foreskin! How to go on with the day now?