Let’s talk Veronica Wadley.
Rejected last year to become head of the Arts Council by Culture Secretary Ben Bradshaw for the appointment being inappropriate according to Major’s Committee on Standards in Public Life. It had been suggested that Wadley, a great supporter of fop-haired cunt Boris Johnson, was being repaid for her services to the man. No- at the Evening Standard. Not those kind of services.
Anyway, Ms Wadley has indeed wheedled her way into the top job at the ACE (thank you Jeremy Hunt), and we can’t wait to see what’s in store. Amusingly, in the Guardian article of 10 June detailing her appointment, the National Theatre’s Nicholas Hytner said “As editor of the Standard, Veronica Wadley was a fierce advocate for the London theatre. She has remained passionately committed to the arts. She is enthusiastic, perspicacious and informed, and I look forward to working with her.”
Their budget was sadly subsequently cut by £98,699.
This excellent Guardian data blog has all the facts and figures.
What a treat for the arts. With news that Ed Vaizey is launching such schemes as ‘The Big Arts Give’, promising to give an initial £3 million back to arts organisations when there will be rumoured 30-50% cuts, well, that leaves him just £84 million short.
Hang on. DON’T PANIC. Cathedral of Shit has come up with some ideas to help raise a little cash for the Arts Council. That’s right – never let it be said we’re not willing to give help where it’s needed. And so:
How about a tombola? EVERYONE loves a tombola don’t they? We can contribute four cases of Carlsberg Export, some bottles of Tango, a bottle of Limoncello, and I’m sure there’s a case of marrowfat peas in the cupboard behind the fertilizer and the chapati flour that we’d be happy to donate.
Or a raffle? We can donate a couple of works by Tim Noble and Sue Webster we’d be happily rid of, a back catalogue of eight years’ worth of Modern Painters, five slightly soiled copies of Sarah Thornton’s Seven Years In The Art World (soiled I said, not actually read. I think it’s gravy. It smells meaty), and, sod it – we’ll split the case of peas if we have to.