Okay, Sammy says to him, tell us about this painting here (it’s a painting with three trees, huddled close together, with a flock of birds in the background and with shadows across the field, in the evening). That was obviously painted during the olden days, Tommy says to Sammy. And how do you make that out? Sammy says to him. Because it’s in black and white, it has been painted in black and white, Tommy says. It’s not a fucking telly, Sammy says to Tommy, it’s not like they invented colour at a certain point. Of course they fucking invented colour, Tommy says to Sammy, don’t be a fucking madman, somebody had to dream that up.

This guy, Tommy says, pointing to a painting of a pale suffering Christ illuminated in his agony and with spectators running all the way into the past and the future; this is the guy what dreamt up colour, he says. Colour existed before this clown, Sammy says to him, get real. There’s a difference between something existing and something being dreamt up, Tommy says. That’s called art, Tommy says to Sammy. Art’s called what? Sammy says to Tommy. When Christ shops up, Tommy says to Sammy, he pulls an audience by the art of illuminating Himself.

But in art Christ Jayzus is not the only one that is crucified, Tommy says. In the background, he says, pointing to the painting, and fixed to another cross, he says, in the shape of a coiled number eight, he says, hanging there like it might be dead already, he says, there’s a brightly coloured snake with all of its bones broken. How do you know its bones are broken? Sammy says to Tommy. Because, Tommy says, a blind snake with all its bones broken is the pain at the centre of the world. How did you get to that? Sammy says to him. The Green Book, Tommy says. I got it from The Green Book. Of course it might just be a plastic snake, Tommy says, and he shrugs. It might not be real, he says. How come? Sammy says to him. Because in order to vanquish it, you must make an idol of it, and raise it up, Tommy says. They probably stuck a plastic snake up there, he says to Sammy, just for the sake of it. After that the pair of them saw some more art but none of it was of much interest except for a beezer painting of Mickey Mouse by your man Lichtenstein.

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