'My Tate Crack Hell'

A TOURIST who spent 53 hours trapped inside the huge crack in the floor of the Tate Gallery has described the moment he knew he wanted to die.

Tom Logan, 41, from Maidstone, fell into the crack on Monday afternoon, almost landing on top of art enthusiast Wayne Hayes, who had fallen in three hours earlier.

Logan told the Daily Mash: "I was scared of course, but also relieved that I wouldn't have to go through this on my own. Then he started talking about art.

"For the first 26 hours I wanted to kill him and for the last 26 hours I wanted to kill myself. Now I want to kill him again."

Logan said he had not realised the huge crack in the floor was actually an exhibit.

"Well, you wouldn't would you? You'd think to yourself, 'that's just a big hole in the floor and anyone who says it's art must be a right fucking monkey'."

He added: "I tried to steer the conversation towards holidays or cars but he just kept nodding and sucking on the leg of his specs.

"Then he started to talk about the 'intrinsic values of Experience Art' and I started to think about hitting him with my car. I don't suppose you know where he lives?"

Tate directors say the exhibit will be seen as a milestone in humanity's understanding of long, shallow holes.

Meanwhile the gallery's cleaning staff are threatening strike action over the crack, claiming it is rapidly filling with bits of stuff.

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'I Was There'

Great Moments in Sport, no. 87: Joe Pesci remembers the 2003 London Marathon

I HAD the privilege of witnessing my first London Marathon a few years ago when some business associates and myself were in town to take care of this thing. To many, this fucking global event conjures up images of thousands of deadbeats running 26 miles dressed as fucking turkeys in order to raise awareness for retards with learning difficulties.

Okay, back to my fucking story. It was a beautiful spring morning and I’d gone out to get the fucking papers.

I kinda noticed that there was this big group of morons gathered by the road, cheering on some fat fuck who was out jogging.

‘What the fuck is going on here?’ I asked this one guy. ‘It’s the London Marathon, mate’. This guy had a real fucking attitude. So I cracked the degenerate mumbling, stuttering mutt on the head a few times with this, like, heavy-duty Sunday newspaper I’d just bought – ‘Ping! Pow!’, and he falls to the floor like the big sack of shit that he is, clutching his head in agony and crying like a big fucking baby.

Then I pull out the Lifestyle Supplement, roll it up real fucking tight and tell the dumb asshole that if he doesn’t stop his stupid fucking whining, I’m going to shove it up his sorry fucking ass, sideways – fucking spoil my relaxing city break in England’s historic fucking capital.

For those of you who’re interested, some skinny fuck from Ethiopia won, and I went out and got laid – how’s that for a happy fucking ending?


As told to Matt Owen