Go...Look At All The Little Girls

Go...Look At All The Little Girls

21 July, 2008
by: Spoonfed

The internet: it's not all about youth culture you know. Sad balding men have just as much right to lie about their identity in chatrooms as you do. And, here at Spoonfed, we feel the same about London town: it's not just non-stop raving for skinny young people. No sir. So, inspired by Ray Davies' idiosyncratic classic Art Lover, we've compiled an itinerary designed to help you cultivate your taste for the finer things in life. Miserable men with paunches, this one's for you. Make it count.

Click here to see the itinerary as a map.

We're kicking things off in affluent South Ken with some photography at Michael Hoppen Gallery. There's Polly Borland's surrealist nudie pictures, which it's ok to perv at because they're taken by a girl. And there's also stuff by Miroslav Tichy who used to get in trouble with the law for taking pictures of women without their permission. But that's ok too, because it's art.

If all this illicit image-making inspires you (and it bloody well should) then it's about a ten minute walk to Harrods where you can pick up a big-zoom camera to take some voyeuristic photos of your own. As a true 'Art Lover', you'll also need pencils, a sketchbook, a pair of oversized shades and big beige raincoat. On the way out you see Mohammad Al Fayed disembarking from his silver Merc and can't resist a quick snap or two. Suddenly two burly suited henchmen are pursuing you down the Brompton Road. You manage to dodge, panting, into the tube station and lose them in the crowds. Oh yeah, you've still got it.

Emerge when the coast is clear and head to the Natural History or Science Museum: there's plenty of young families there. Take a few snaps of their happy smiling faces. Such purity! Such innocence! Then potter to the Serpentine for an exhibition of Richard Prince's filthy pics. If he can get away with it you bloody well can, so take a seat in Hyde Park and click away. Frolicking young Sloanes in the summer sun: magical! But if your oversized lens draws too much attention, then put it away and carefully unzip your pencil case instead. Nobody suspects the idle sketcher.

By now it's approaching evening and all these lithe young limbs are probably giving you an appetite, so head for the faux-'20s splendour of the Wolseley. Book a table for one and flash the cash. Miserable rich men on their own: nothing draws youthful gold-diggers quite like it. On the way there you've probably just got time to pop into Fortnum & Mason to pick up some deluxe confectionary, an ideal conversation starter with any passing pre-teens.

After dinner it's time for some musical action in the form of high-kicking sleazy smut-fest Chicago at the Cambridge Theatre. A front row seat guarantees you a bit of titillation and if you turn off the flash on your camera then you'll be able to capture enough memories for weeks to come. Chicago's all finished by ten thirty but don't just shoot off home. You've got more stamina than that old man.

Sneak across the Charing Cross Road and up Greek Street where Saturday Night Lick at Moonlighting is in full flow. Ladies are free before midnight, but you're certainly not so just loiter on the other side of the street and try to hold your camera still, you trembling wreck. If you continue to shake then you're in need a stiff drink. Pop downstairs to the dingy New Evaristo Club for a whisky or two and then over to Dean Street and the Colony Room, home to many a lonely 'artist'.

All this perving and a couple of drinks will perhaps have you in the mood for something a little more participatory. If he's not in his usual corner at the Colony, then pay a visit to Soho dandy and whore-connoisseur Sebastian Horsley in his flat on Meard Street. You'll know the one because on the door is a plaque with the statement, 'This is not a brothel'. If he doesn't offer you any smack – he claims to be clean now – then he'll certainly point you to one of Soho's premiere grot spots. While away the night with Fifi and Nancy. And if you tell them Spoonfed recommended them, then special rates are guaranteed.

You're bound to be broke by now and it's too late now to return to your poor ignorant wife, so spend the last couple of hours until dawn chatting with the tramps on Golden Square. They're not hard to charm: just bring a bottle of cider and show them all the grotty little pictures you've taken today.

Right, now it's morning and you're beginning to look like a skank so grab a spot of food at the cafe in the crypt of St Martin in the Fields. Maybe all the religion going on upstairs will help to cleanse your putrid soul. If it does then brilliant! Trafalgar Square is now full of eager young tourists, who'll be delighted for you to take a few 'artistic' images of them for your 'portfolio'.

You probably want to sleep now after nearly 24 hours of non-stop voyeurism and perversion. But one more task awaits you: at 12:00 take a champagne flight on the London Eye. The booze will be a much-needed pick-me-up and there'll be plenty of happy couples there to intensify your feelings of self-loathing. Plus you'll be able to take pictures of people from above with the massive camera you bought yesterday. Nice.

Now sir, you've had your fill. Return home. 'Had to work late, tube strike, phone broke... You didn't wait up for me, did you dear?' We're guessing this has been the best weekend of your life. Yes? Well then, here's another date for your diary: on the 8th August Victoria Park is hosting the Underage Festival. They won't let you in of course, but there's no law against slobbering at the gates. Is there?

By Tom

Spoonfed