SickBitchCrips detest all of you and we look forward to your tragic, pitiful demise. We are outcasts from everything and have zero pity for anyone, least of all you criplets.
We are appalling and nasty, degenerative atrophied SickBitchCrips and intend to remain wheelchair dependent for the rest of our sorry little helpless lives.
Regrettably we recently survived a severe bout of acute pneumonia and we hate ourselves for this, unfortunately a stint in the high dependency unit did us the world of good, no gaping holes in our neat little arses apart from the orifice one skitters out of. Prior to this we nearly drowned in our own bodily fluids but alas we were sucked high and dry in the dick of time.
Our Modest and Honest Guide for the Febrile-Disabled:
- The no purpose pathetic life of a disabled specimen is to always be false to yourself – you will be relegated to the fringes of society until you die.
- The life of a genetic defect is not worth considering.
- No happiness can ever be expected when you drain societies coffers to care for you.
- The law is changing and spazzos will most certainly succumb as a result. You are a severe burden and an unnecessary financial drain to the wealthy tax payer.
- A feral animal has earned more respect than you can ever wish for.
- This is the year when any money you acquired to live an abnormally luxurious lifestyle will be rightly snatched away from you and hence pissing, shitting and stuff like that will become a thing of the past.
- You will be force-peg fed, suprapubicised , catheterised and colostomised, and that’s just for starters.
- As a cripple you can forget about having sex and for all you girlies look forward to a premature hysterectomy, no watersports for you my dears.
- Your best hope for a relationship is the one you develop with your bedpan/hoist/crutch/guide dog/cochlear implant/mummy and daddy.
- Heroin, coke and MDMA/other will be available to you in plentiful supply, dirty needles de rigueur.
Sick – is an iconic wheelchair-bound living miracle and is the proud host of a multitude of debilitating diseases. She is still breathing and lives life to the full despite her many conflictions. She holds the world record for being the sickest cripple ever and she has no intentions of letting anyone in with a chance of snatching this prestigious title. Everyone adores her and she is a Sick celebrity lapping up all the sympathy and pity she can muster.
Bitch – has a disproportionate over inflated ego and fiery tits. She dreams of being crippled and is desperate to hunt down a surgeon who will snap her spinal cord to stop her legs from wriggling. In frenzied acts of self-destruction to make her dream come true she will do anything to lame herself, yet tragically all attempts of crippling herself to smithereens have failed. Every day is a struggle but she is determined that one day she will successfully disable herself and steal the limelight from Sick.
Crip - is a product of her own self-indulgence. Her greasy fatty fried festering look and sit still and do sweet fuck all attitude has rendered her into a piss guzzling, fast food obsessed junkie. Her assistant lap dog bitch named Gob, is determined to gobble all the crap that Crip shoves down her gullet. The other two bitches have their eyes on Crip in fear that one day she may consume them and become the ultimate Sick Bitch Crip. Crip is fantastic at playing the Crip card and has a natural gift for pulling at the heartstrings and making people weep.
SickBitchCrips are the greatest thing that the world could ever want. Introducing ‘Sick’ the cripple that everyone wants to be…
SickBitchCrips, growth in popularity is increasing every second – meet ‘Bitch’, you know you want to be her – everyone’s favourite and everyone’s secret little desire…
SickBitchCrips elevating high above their contemporaries, introducing ‘Crip’ the epitome of success and envy of many…
Sponsorship deals are currently in negotiation with McDonald’s, Marlboro lights, Heinz baked beans, Tesco’s Value Lager, the Daily Mail and the Queen.
‘A Fistful of Froth’ it’s so bad it's good! Watch the video!
SBC (SickBitchCrip) is fit and healthy but also understands she is lame and sick.
It isn't fair that the state does not recognise her need to feed her devoted Chihuahuas on caviar and chips. The economic climate is against her and she knows we are living in dangerous times. An individual cannot be expected to use art as a support mechanism to live a good quality of life. This is a self-indulgent trait of many artists who should go out and get a proper job and stop messing around with people's closeted mindsets.
SBC’s inspiration comes from Raffaella Carra in her 1978 hit 'Do it again'. The lyrics and tone are beautiful and give a clear message about art; ‘… don't ever start it if you can't stop’.
Other sources of inspiration come from herself.
A Fistful of Froth is full of love and hate and the spaghetti mishmash tells the story of bestiality, incest and murder. The juxtaposition of wheelchair and Whorehorse set against the backdrop of the Irish Potato Famine is charged with a sense of grandeur.
The sticky, slimy, gritty mess on the backside was dirty and required a good heart warming scrub to make it look shiny and new again. Once restored it was ready for action and as good as new – waiting to iron out those imperfections.
The plug had been pulled and Jemima was once again relieved that the battery on her breathing apparatus kicked in and she could continue watching Tiptoe Through The Tulips.
Little Miss Pity Crippy catapulted out of her chair onto the sodden ground and squashed all the insects that lay beneath her. She kept still and did not move a muscle, everyone around her thought she was dead but she was just faking it. Once recovered and craned back into her chariot she went about her daily business. The Chihuahuas remained intact and were not put off by their downfall. The lift on the coach is now fixed and safety procedures are now in place to ensure that the Beachy Head near fatal mishap never happens again.
Little Miss Pity Crippy sat on a wall
Eating her turds and whey,
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And pushed Little Miss Pity Crippy away
Little Miss Pity Crippy sat on the wall
Precious and delicate and perfectly still
Little Miss Pity Crippy had a great fall
All the king's horses and all the King's men
Couldn't make Little Miss Pity Crippy normal again
On an exceptionally gloomy, Easter Erection wet weekend, at the butt end of a bedroom tax demo, SickBitchCrips gayfully retreat to the Duke of York’s Theatre to gawp at Rupert Everett in the role as the talented Oscar Wilde in The Judas Kiss. After interminable inching backwards and forwards, SickBitchCrips are finally comfortable in the wheelchair spaces, allocated at the opposite ends of a row. Sadly they are unable to catapult themselves out of their prams into normal seats and therefore have to pay the price by seeing less than fifty percent of the action. The bed scenes displaying fanny, jugs and drooping dicks are out of sight for patrons confined to wheelchairs and on reflection SickBitchCrips are delighted that they have been denied cock at Easter.
The ageing theatre was indisputably built without consideration for its invalid patrons as the sick didn’t venture out much in those days. At the end of the performance the actors take a bow and announce that one of their crew will be running in the London Marathon shortly. The cast ambush the exit rattling and thrusting buckets to raise money for sick and delicate children. SickBitchCrips make a frenzied departure, swerving through the herd of lesbians/thespians, exiting the theatre, avoiding begging bowls and clinging on to their hard earned drug money.
SickBitchCrips are elated that they have outmanoeuvred sick kiddy pity giving only to be accosted by Rob the helpful cripple. SickBitchCrips listen with elation as Rob regurgitates a long drawn out story about how his toes were blown off in a mishap during target practice in The Royal Signals. Rob refuses government hand-outs and accommodation and opts to kip in the gutter rather than skip on a plane to Dignitas to guzzle down a massive dose of healthy barbiturates. He bravely decided to become independent and took up flogging The Big Issue outside the Duke of York’s day in day out. SickBitchCrips aspire to disabled Rob’s life style choices and are stoically proud of themselves for refusing to purchase The Big Issue and indulging his war victim hero’s, lavish lifestyle.
SickBitchCrips exhaustedly promote engendered self-pity with their latest two or three million pound multiple grants funded project. They are grateful to their funders who include ACE, BNP, BP, GREAESE, and SHIPSHAPE. Pity Party exposes the necessity to Pity Party until the bitter end. The luxury venue is the fabulously appointed Wes-Sex through floor lift and although somewhat confined the space is an acoustically inferior location especially if one's friends are limited. The elevator experience brings new heights to the afflicted and serves as an intimate space accommodating an eclectic breed of hybrid sick bitches. The Pity Party depraves have spent months developing new, more individualized approaches to the moving body and choreographic possibilities. Pity Party is realised, danced and choreographed by SickBitchCrips, integrating special movement in and around the disabled lift. The song is composed and arranged by SickBitchCrips and the backing singers are a revised group of late sixties dyslexic duets who have spent a long time in rehearsal.
Click on the link to see 'Pity Party' before it is premiered in Leicester Square sometime soon.
SickBitchCrips have little to report this month. They continue to steer away from issues of sex, politics and religion and attempt to avoid the reality of their own sorry lives. SickBitchCrips are gleefully ignorant of what everyone's currently debating i.e. the instigation of Bedroom Tax and abolition of Council Tax Benefit and refuse to comment from their privately owned penthouse overlooking the Houses of Parliament. However they did admit to a degree of empathy because they too suffer intolerably on a daily basis waiting for the lift to reach them on the top floor of their luxury apartment.
SickBitchCrips enjoy watching the fun, pity and trivialities of Comic Relief and have decided to respond and generate cash for themselves by creating their own special charity 'Chronic Relief Day'. It's all very simple – donate £50 and they will personally bake you a special SickBitchCrips farewell cake which is guaranteed to change your life forever.
They are also looking forward to their lavish Pity Party prior to the inevitability of their being placed on the Liverpool Care Pathway for the dying of impatience, with their full consent. SickBitchCrips are delighted about this because it will save them the cost of a one-way ticket to Zürich which they have been planning since the Paralympics and the Valentine's Day ‘surprise’ shenanigans.
Due to the sad resignation of their close friend the Cardigan they will be flying to Rome to take part in proceedings and fancy their chances of trying on the ruby slippers and driving in the specially adapted Crip-mobile. They fully recognise that they have a reputation to uphold and can assure the populace that absolutely nothing will change, after all where would we be without haemophilia and male bondage. We wouldn't be quite the same institution.
For those of you who haven’t yet heard of SBC I am going to gently introduce you to us. SickBitchCrips is an arts organisation made up of the most severely afflicted, contagious and diseased artists who have multiple disorders i.e. myself and any other specimens who feel they meet this hierarchal criteria.
Extreme physical movement is forbidden and SickBitchCrips has no time for anatomically perfect people. We have been heavily involved in producing posters of late that are in par with those beautifully crafted images of the foot and mouth painters association. We intend to bring out a Christmas special something sometime soon and to get a taste of the wonderfully courageous work we do I have included an image with this blog.
Due to our severe limitations we can take rather a long time to produce work, some may refer to our work as 'durational' but we see it as 'inspirational'. We believe the end result is worth it and we have some very important messages to put out there for anyone brave enough to engage.
Similar to Damien Hirst and others we think about our work and what our next piece will be about, we have an affinity towards Damien because his work is about life and death and we believe our work is comparable to his but we tend to lean more towards imminent death.
I am dying to tell you about the Christmas special something we intend to do but I have to hold back and try not to get overly excited because like many other artists we struggle, I mean seriously struggle to stay alive and continue to make work. It's not easy facing our daily tragic circumstances and SickBitchCrips embraces your pity and welcomes language that sees us as special, brave and amazing.
Our mission is to be ghettoised and denied access to pretty much everything. SickBitchCrips is deserving, needy and our special needs will not hold us back from making mediocre art.