My daughter Emma, the real artist – wot paints pictures and takes photos – says these "conceptual art" persons are called the "black-specs-roll-necks" brigade. She is far too generous.
But, doing my GOM impression (Grumpy Old Man - hey, we all have to start somewhere), I can most pompously declare that a modern jet aircraft is the ultimate expression of form defined by function, combining engineering and design in a highly complex machine which, as a single entity, is also an object of grace and beauty and well as power and ingenuity.
If you half close your eyes, you can almost imagine me in a pulpit - or pontificating at the bar of the Pig and Whistle. There, I roundly declare that, as such, the aircraft itself is a worthy object of display, and many find their ways into museums and air parks where they provide entertainment, fascination and education to generations of adults and children.
But not the Tate gallery. It hires some idle tart to mess around with two important aircraft, types which have a long history and which in their own ways represent considerable achievement and pride, and this becomes "art" for the clever-dicks and chatterati to prattle about, to mock and to denigrate.
Now I get serious. This little episode really does seems to typify everything that is wrong with this country. We don't seem to be able to take pride in our own achievements any more, or take uncomplicated enjoyment in what is. It has to be dressed up as "art" and used to send some perverted, distorted, sick message, no doubt at inordinate expense.
Fiona Banner they call this tart, who thinks it is soooooo clever to truss up a Sea Harrier, the type that helped save the Falklands, and much else besides. Now if they would truss her up and hang the stupid, vain bitch upside down from a lamppost, then that might not be art. But it would be a small compensation for the insult, and the offence she has given.
And if you really want art, this is art. Feast your eyes on it!