So Thursday evening heralds the annual return of the American Photography Party, like a frowsty-smelling grandma at Christmas. AP 27 – abbreviated for the cognoscenti – celebrates all that is American about Photography in Party format. Apparently it consists of 3000 voracious photographers and a single, unwitting photo editor, who will be instantaneously consumed in a manner befitting a cow’s leg in a piranha-infested stream. Despite this, we are all a’flutter here at Bell End. Ugly Sister Andrew and Ugly Sister Rob await the arrival of Ugly Sister Noah from Shanghai, Ugly Sister Jake from San Francisco and Ugly Sister Sarah from Carroll Gardens. Ugly Sister Mike is oiling the wheels of his ugly carriage in New Paltz. Sadly, Ugly Sister Dean (surely the ugliest of them all?) will be in Charlotte, and the remainder of our mess of Uglies will also all be spread across the world like cheap cheese from a tube.
And then there’s the two Bell End Cinderellas – Selwyn and Lisa – scrubbing the poured concrete, blacking the grate, beating the dander from their rugs, tweaking each other’s besoms, cataloguing the Bell End spanking porn Blu-Rays. Will they go to The Ball? Will they be afforded the privilege of slipping their dainty, bird-boned feet into the glass slipper of Prince Phillip Toledano? Fuck Yes! In fact, Fucky Fucky Bang Bang, Yes! Maybe even Fuck-fuckety Fuck-fuckety Fuck Fuck-fuckeeee, Yes! Because, like Cabbage Whites from wrinkled pupae, Selwyn and Lisa have finally wriggled into the sunlight, shaken the dust off their wings, moved their butterfly bowels and are poised to take flight. Look out below.
2011 will mark Selwyn’s inaugural appearance at this, Photography’s Fête of Fêtes. He previously adopted Nick Meek’s stance on such cockclusters of embalmery: when asked if he would be attending AP 24, Meek answered simply, “not even if they gave me a golden pig”.
Furthermore – and here you should pay attention, because the verbal diarrhoea is taking a back seat to an actual piece of information – we will be celebrating the celebration with our very own after-cockcluster Cockcluster, here at the little house on Waverly, the cottage at the End of the street where the church Bell rings: The Bell End. For those of you who would like to wind down gently, loosen the gusset of your boy shorts and slither into a leathery fug; Selwyn and Lisa will be offering buttery grilled cheeses to dunk into piping-hot tomato soup with cream and thyme, along with Bell End Manhattans to moisten everyone’s buds. Music by the Choir of Magdalen College, Oxford, hot showers and Mrs Meyers available for anybody so excited they make a mess.
Let us know by lettre électronique! Or seek out one of our Pied Pipers at AP 27; Lisa, Rob, Sarah, Noah, Andrew, Mike or Jake. Hop in their 1970 Sedan deVille and snuggle on the beige vinyl all the way to glorious, glistening Bell End.